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A disturbing truth about medical school — and America’s future doctors

Ed. Note: This article first appeared in The Wash Post

You may be surprised to learn that medical students at many of the best schools in the country aren’t given grades during the first two years of their medical education.

They either pass their coursework or they fail. And then, they take one high-stakes test that affects their medical future.

While the effort to allow medical students to take two years of course work on a pass-fail basis was driven by an effort to make the notoriously difficult life of medical students easier, the high-stakes testing consequence creates problems of its own.

In this post, Brenda Sirovich, a physician and professor at Dartmouth College’s medical school, writes about how this approach threatens to compromise both the community of medicine and the quality of patients’ care.

She’s a 2017 Public Voices Fellow with the OpEd Project, a social venture with both a nonprofit and for-profit arm that is aimed at increasing the range of voices and quality of ideas contributing to national and international debate.

News that a federal educational experiment failed to supply evidence in favor of  Education Secretary Betsy DeVos’s school choice agenda has undoubtedly elicited schadenfreude in some Democratic circles.

Somewhat lost in the story is scrutiny of how students’ educational success or failure is measured.

The trend toward near-exclusive reliance on standardized testing to measure educational achievement now extends all the way to medical school. Many may not realize that the readiness of aspiring doctors to enter the world of clinical medicine is now based overwhelmingly on a single, standardized, closed-book, multiple choice test.

Scores on the test — the U.S. Medical Licensing Step 1 Exam — taken after two intense years of classroom education, will overwhelmingly determine where students do their residency training. And their professional futures.

Such reliance on Board scores wasn’t always this way.

About 30 years ago, I took the Boards. I passed, and have absolutely no idea how I scored.

But a decade or so ago, residency programs suddenly started caring, a lot, about Board scores — an unintended consequence of a well-intentioned move by medical schools to grade the first two years pass-fail, to foster student wellness.

Residency programs abruptly found themselves in desperate need of a yardstick by which to measure and compare student applicants. Board scores were suddenly paramount.

Behold the mismatch: We aim to prepare students for a career characterized by collaboration, complexity, nuance and uncertainty; yet, we evaluate them on their ability to select — autonomously and without research — among radio buttons representing a discrete range of right-or-wrong responses.

After 20-odd years in practice, I have yet to see a patient come in with a list of four or five possible diagnoses, and ask that I select the most appropriate response.  

Nor have I, while searching online for current evidence or recommendations, heard a patient cry out, “Stop!  This is a closed book appointment!”

Here’s the thing: Students understand how they’re assessed — they’re all quite brilliant in this way, whether they’re in medical school or high school or third grade.

They figure out with lightning speed what they need to do to maximize their performance on the assessment that matters.

As a result, here is my students’ To Do list:

  1. Do not attend class, unless attendance is specifically required.
  2. Complain about the (modest) number of class hours requiring attendance.
  3. Resist discretionary learning opportunities, no matter how interesting.

Their logic is impeccable. Each student’s sweet spot for MCQ mastery involves some combination of lecture videos at double speed, late nights, ear buds, coffee and little human interaction.

It works beautifully in achieving the desired outcome of a good Board score.

But what is the desired outcome?

My students — and others like them — are the doctors of tomorrow.

They will care for me — and you — as we age. For our parents facing life threatening illness and difficult decisions at the end of life. For the children we haven’t yet contemplated.

The desired outcome should not be about test scores.

We should hope students will have learned how to find, evaluate and apply knowledge; how to work collaboratively; how to tolerate and manage uncertainty; how to reason; how to walk in someone else’s shoes; how to relentlessly pursue what’s best for each patient; how to debate, be wrong, fail — and embrace and learn from it, each time; how to become who they want to be.

It’s tough to do alone. It’s really tough with ear buds in.

To be sure, the medical students I teach believe all these capabilities are genuinely important. But they are keenly aware that these are not what will bring them educational success.

The contrast exemplifies the pernicious and corrosive power of standardized metrics of success in any educational setting — to transform what we value and how we learn.

“Every system is perfectly designed to get the results it gets”: It’s taken me years to fully appreciate this deceptively simple observation by one of the fathers of health-care improvement science. Change the last two words to “by which we choose to measure it,” and the paradigm clearly applies as well to education as to the health-care systems Paul Batalden describes.

Clearly, we need objective and reproducible measures of achievement.

But when we permit the easy availability and seeming objectivity of one measure to exalt itself as sovereign, we become singularly capable of removing the joy from teaching, fragmenting a community of learning, and undermining our commitment to foster curiosity, nourish problem solving and inspire a love of lifelong learning.

Posted by: The Wealthy Doctor

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A disturbing truth about medical school — and America’s future doctors - overview

Summary: You may be surprised to learn that medical students at many of the best schools in the country aren’t given grades during the first two years of their medical education. They either pass their coursework or they fail. And then, they take one high-stakes test that affects their medical future.

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  • Mir H. Ali

    No worries. If you wanna be a spine surgeon or a neurosurgeon, you should maybe be judged on your ability to handle the high stakes pressure of a single standardized test

  • Altitude

    Yale Medical School has been that way for many years, in fact you only take two tests during your four years – Nat. Boards I and II. They did away with AOA because without test scores the only way to distinguish yourself was self-promotion commonly called brown-nosing. Their grads and medicine in general haven’t been adversely impacted.

  • Freeman

    I went to medical school from 1977-1981 at St. Louis University. All of our grades were pass-fail. I didn’t know there was any other way. This article might have had more relevance 40 years ago.

  • hawaiiheaven

    We get it- in the age of the “me” generation, the entitled generation, the age of wanting things without having to sweat for them, the age of it’s not Fair if I’ve been out drinking, traveling and rallying but I want to be a doctor- you want to change it so that pushy undisciplined, entitled brats can get an MD without the tremendous amount of discipline, studying and learning needed to pass the Exams. And by the way, you need to pass all the Bench exams to be prepared enough to pass the Boards, you have to be working all along, not just passing the one test.