Is it necessary to have a "narrative" or cohesive EC's in your application?

[C17H21NO4]

I feel like my main activities (med/surg PCT, oncology MA, homeless center volunteer, and neuro research) are somewhat unrelated to each other. Would this be a detriment to my application if I want to get into a top ~50 school instead of a top 20 school?

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[pedneuro6894]

Sometimes people have a theme that is more tailored to one aspect or one specialty type, but this is not a requirement nor necessarily viewed as "better". As long as you have the general theme of interest in medicine/research and helping vulnerable people (which it seems like you do), that is perfectly acceptable IMO.

 

[Goro]

I feel like my main activities (med/surg PCT, oncology MA, homeless center volunteer, and neuro research) are somewhat unrelated to each other. Would this be a detriment to my application if I want to get into a top ~50 school instead of a top 20 school?

No, not at all.

 

[Mr.Smile12]

I differ slightly. No, we don't ask for a narrative, but we ask for an answer to our prompts. The most important prompt is "what motivates you to become a physician" or "why medicine" for the personal statement. I want to know your purpose as a physician because I must discern whether you have a mission that fits our program. It doesn't matter if you are applying to the brand-name schools or the least well-known; why do you want to go into mortgage levels of debt on your medical school education at our school? How does each of your activities inform me about your informed decision to become a health professional?

You can use the personal statement to list three completely unrelated disparate activities, but does it give us an insight into what motivates you to become a physician? I get that many people don't have a Eureka moment that they should be a doctor. But it's hard to know whether you have a good idea of what awaits you as a physician if you cannot connect disparate lessons or themes about yourself and how you would make future career decisions.

We want your professional impression, and most people have a vision of their lives. They know how each activity they were involved in added value to this vision and how they would choose future opportunities. Otherwise, giving us random facts about you looks bad when compared to others who have clearer purposes as physicians.

Not everything needs to align with the narrative, but the more things that do, the easier it is to see your value as a future physician. (This is the case when it comes to regular employment.)

 

[LindaAccepted]

I agree with the points made in @Mr.Smile12 's post. The readers of your application needs to understand why you want to be a doctor, and when it comes to secondaries or the interview, why you want to go to their particular school. However, they also want to know that you are an interesting human being with interests, hobbies, and a background outside of medicine. Our lives don't all fit into one box and your application shouldn't either.

 

[polymerization]

I'm not a professional, just a student like you going through the application cycle this year.

As I was writing my essays, I felt like I was being more so interrogated than being allowed to tell the truth of my story. I didn't have anyone laying out activities and opportunities for me; they were often hard-earned and many of them were situations where I was at the right place at the right time.

I felt that schools take on a default assumption that you get to have a lot of choice throughout this process. I can understand why they see it that way: you can walk into a soup kitchen and choose to volunteer. But not all activities are a soup kitchen—oftentimes we view the expectations of medical schools (clinical/non-clinical experiences, volunteering, leadership, etc) and just try to meet them in whatever ways are available—often, not even really having the luxury of getting to scrutinize how participating impacts some broader narrative we are expected to have.

So, I think it's normal to face this process and feel like all you can do is shrug and say you did the best you could to meet expectations, even if some of the activities you did weren't necessarily things you were jumping-up-and-down-excited to do. That's just the reality and I wish both students and admissions could acknowledge it.

In fact, to admit you didn't enjoy something is where I realized I could start developing traction in writing my narrative. Sure, there were activities I enjoyed less than others, but the other side of that coin implies there are activities I enjoyed considerably more so.

I started looking back on my time as a student and put the activities I found most meaningful in front of me. Stringing together diary entries, thoughts I'd put together as I considered writing my essays, and even photos taken along the way helped me start to see the ways in which those activities I enjoyed most made me a richer and more interesting person. From there, I was able to see the ways in which even those activities I didn't enjoy as much were similarly in service of making me better, and that mindset shift helped me incorporate those activities in a way that is narrative-aligned and authentic to me.

This kind of introspection isn't easy or something you can reliably execute. It really only comes from spending enormous amounts of time alone, seemingly navel-gazing, and writing and rewriting ad nauseam—with fleeting moments of "oh, it makes sense why I did that!" Sorry, it's just the truth—and a lot of people won't have the patience. Collecting those moments and making them literate to schools is your task.

This expectation isn't limited to T20s, T50s, or T100s. For better or worse, medical schools are asking for self-actualized individuals, and that hidden curriculum certainly places philosophical demands on students that they may have never even attempted to meet before.

 

[C17H21NO4]

I'm not a professional, just a student like you going through the application cycle this year.

As I was writing my essays, I felt like I was being more so interrogated than being allowed to tell the truth of my story. I didn't have anyone laying out activities and opportunities for me; they were often hard-earned and many of them were situations where I was at the right place at the right time.

I felt that schools take on a default assumption that you get to have a lot of choice throughout this process. I can understand why they see it that way: you can walk into a soup kitchen and choose to volunteer. But not all activities are a soup kitchen—oftentimes we view the expectations of medical schools (clinical/non-clinical experiences, volunteering, leadership, etc) and just try to meet them in whatever ways are available—often, not even really having the luxury of getting to scrutinize how participating impacts some broader narrative we are expected to have.

So, I think it's normal to face this process and feel like all you can do is shrug and say you did the best you could to meet expectations, even if some of the activities you did weren't necessarily things you were jumping-up-and-down-excited to do. That's just the reality and I wish both students and admissions could acknowledge it.

In fact, to admit you didn't enjoy something is where I realized I could start developing traction in writing my narrative. Sure, there were activities I enjoyed less than others, but the other side of that coin implies there are activities I enjoyed considerably more so.

I started looking back on my time as a student and put the activities I found most meaningful in front of me. Stringing together diary entries, thoughts I'd put together as I considered writing my essays, and even photos taken along the way helped me start to see the ways in which those activities I enjoyed most made me a richer and more interesting person. From there, I was able to see the ways in which even those activities I didn't enjoy as much were similarly in service of making me better, and that mindset shift helped me incorporate those activities in a way that is narrative-aligned and authentic to me.

This kind of introspection isn't easy or something you can reliably execute. It really only comes from spending enormous amounts of time alone, seemingly navel-gazing, and writing and rewriting ad nauseam—with fleeting moments of "oh, it makes sense why I did that!" Sorry, it's just the truth—and a lot of people won't have the patience. Collecting those moments and making them literate to schools is your task.

This expectation isn't limited to T20s, T50s, or T100s. For better or worse, medical schools are asking for self-actualized individuals, and that hidden curriculum certainly places philosophical demands on students that they may have never even attempted to meet before.

This is a great reply, thank you. Over the past two years of college I've been constantly studying, working, researching, volunteering almost to the point of burnout. In this time I haven't really sat down to reflect that much. Thankfully with the semester ending I will have more time to do so.