notepad. The boy glanced over, down at his gadget, and then back to me.
“You’re going to take notes on that?” He grinned while looking at my standard issue yellow legal pad.
I glanced around the room and shifted in my chair. “Uh, yeah. What’s the problem?”
The guy sat up and held out his hand. “Landen, second year and the teacher’s aide. You are?”
I shook his hand. “Amber St. James. First year.”
“Top of your class, I assume?” He smirked and started tapping on his tablet again.
“Yeah, so what’s the problem with my notepad?”
His eyebrows rose as he smiled. “Nothing. Just a little old school.” He waved a hand around, indicating the other students. Some had laptops primed and ready on the long wooden beam that acted as the desks. Other students carried handheld devices, and here was little ol’ me with a notepad.
Blowing out a slow breath, I straightened my spine and set my perfectly sharpened pencil to rest above my pad. “Yeah, well, I like to do things the old-fashioned way. The act of writing something down helps me remember more information.”
“Kind of like the art of repetition.” He chuckled.
I jerked my head side to side and cracked my neck. “I guess. So, how’s the teacher?”
He grinned and looked at me askance. His eyes burned a sparkling green and his corresponding smile, while pleasant, seemed almost too big for his face. He had a dimple in his right cheek that I could swear winked when he spoke. I found dimples an attractive feature on a man. This guy was no exception.
“He’s a piece of work for sure. I love him, though.” He shrugged and went back to multitasking on his device.
Love. Hmm. Not often you hear a guy toss out the term love so casually, especially when referring to a teacher.
“I’m excited about being here,” I said, chatting him up. The nervous bubbles in my belly popped and gurgled with anticipation of my first day.
He laughed that time. “The first-year med students always are. See that dude over there?” He pointed to an Asian man who looked about our age, typing furiously into a laptop. He kept pulling on his hair and finally banged his head down on the desk in front of him. “That’s Hai. He’s a fifth year about to get his MD. See how stressed out he is? I am not looking forward to that!”
I watched as Hai continued to pull at his hair, tug at his tie, and twist his fingers together. This program was unusual to say the least. Merging first years with fifth years for cross-training sounded like a great idea when I reviewed the course material. Seeing how wound up Hai was put an X in the con column for this untraditional format. When I chose it, I appreciated the severity in the differences between standard medical school and the joint program. The knowledge that students further along in their studies would be leading sections of the coursework alongside credentialed professionals, as well as the intense overlap in the training, would allow earlier advancement and more hands on support than the average program is what sold me on this course. Alas, seeing Hai, I no longer felt certain in my choice.
“Yikes. I hope I’m not like that,” I whispered, feeling really bad for Hai.
“Depends on what your specialty is. He’s going to be a brain surgeon. That comes with some serious emotional, mental, and physical pressure that a lot of us who just want to be GPs don’t have to suffer through.”
Brain surgeon. Yeah, that’s nowhere near where I want to go with my studies. “I’m focused primarily on pediatrics and gynecology. I figure I’ll determine which specialty I prefer once we start our residency.”
Landen nodded. “Makes sense. I think I’m shooting for the general practitioner route. Maybe emergency medicine. Haven’t decided yet. What you’ll find in this program, though, is there are usually only a couple in each year of the program, except the newbies. There are two fifth, fourth, third, second, and the
“You’re going to take notes on that?” He grinned while looking at my standard issue yellow legal pad.
I glanced around the room and shifted in my chair. “Uh, yeah. What’s the problem?”
The guy sat up and held out his hand. “Landen, second year and the teacher’s aide. You are?”
I shook his hand. “Amber St. James. First year.”
“Top of your class, I assume?” He smirked and started tapping on his tablet again.
“Yeah, so what’s the problem with my notepad?”
His eyebrows rose as he smiled. “Nothing. Just a little old school.” He waved a hand around, indicating the other students. Some had laptops primed and ready on the long wooden beam that acted as the desks. Other students carried handheld devices, and here was little ol’ me with a notepad.
Blowing out a slow breath, I straightened my spine and set my perfectly sharpened pencil to rest above my pad. “Yeah, well, I like to do things the old-fashioned way. The act of writing something down helps me remember more information.”
“Kind of like the art of repetition.” He chuckled.
I jerked my head side to side and cracked my neck. “I guess. So, how’s the teacher?”
He grinned and looked at me askance. His eyes burned a sparkling green and his corresponding smile, while pleasant, seemed almost too big for his face. He had a dimple in his right cheek that I could swear winked when he spoke. I found dimples an attractive feature on a man. This guy was no exception.
“He’s a piece of work for sure. I love him, though.” He shrugged and went back to multitasking on his device.
Love. Hmm. Not often you hear a guy toss out the term love so casually, especially when referring to a teacher.
“I’m excited about being here,” I said, chatting him up. The nervous bubbles in my belly popped and gurgled with anticipation of my first day.
He laughed that time. “The first-year med students always are. See that dude over there?” He pointed to an Asian man who looked about our age, typing furiously into a laptop. He kept pulling on his hair and finally banged his head down on the desk in front of him. “That’s Hai. He’s a fifth year about to get his MD. See how stressed out he is? I am not looking forward to that!”
I watched as Hai continued to pull at his hair, tug at his tie, and twist his fingers together. This program was unusual to say the least. Merging first years with fifth years for cross-training sounded like a great idea when I reviewed the course material. Seeing how wound up Hai was put an X in the con column for this untraditional format. When I chose it, I appreciated the severity in the differences between standard medical school and the joint program. The knowledge that students further along in their studies would be leading sections of the coursework alongside credentialed professionals, as well as the intense overlap in the training, would allow earlier advancement and more hands on support than the average program is what sold me on this course. Alas, seeing Hai, I no longer felt certain in my choice.
“Yikes. I hope I’m not like that,” I whispered, feeling really bad for Hai.
“Depends on what your specialty is. He’s going to be a brain surgeon. That comes with some serious emotional, mental, and physical pressure that a lot of us who just want to be GPs don’t have to suffer through.”
Brain surgeon. Yeah, that’s nowhere near where I want to go with my studies. “I’m focused primarily on pediatrics and gynecology. I figure I’ll determine which specialty I prefer once we start our residency.”
Landen nodded. “Makes sense. I think I’m shooting for the general practitioner route. Maybe emergency medicine. Haven’t decided yet. What you’ll find in this program, though, is there are usually only a couple in each year of the program, except the newbies. There are two fifth, fourth, third, second, and the
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