Fourth year at vet school seems to finish before it’s even begun – and that’s not a romanticism.
It’s only six months (running from September to February), so even if you factor in time spent on exams, it sort of feels like cramming a whole year into just half the space of time. Like too much butter over too little bread.
Short year
There are many maladies of fourth year that nobody quite prepares you for.
For starters, exams come before Easter (so you don’t even get a chocolate fix while revising), there’s no real summer holiday (unless you count an overseas EMS placement) and – the scary part – it’s the stepping stone between being a plain ol’ student and basically being an actual vet.
Despite these curveballs to the regular programming of the vet course, I believe fourth year has been my favourite so far. However, I’m not sure if it’s the nostalgia after intercalating for a year, the delicious lack of biochemistry and 9am dissections, or the slow and almost intangible sensation of everything coming together.
Mixing bowl
It’s most certainly a scary jolt when you realise that, academically speaking, the university staff have essentially taught you everything there is to teach you. There are no more ingredients to becoming a veterinary professional – all that’s left is to mix them all together and hope you come out fully baked.
It’s also a familiar type of “scary” – like holding your unopened A-level results envelope, or moving out of home and into halls. It’s a precipice of the unknown, but there’s also a lot of potential there. Staring into the jaws of final year is a humbling experience and it feels like the beginning of the end of a very long journey.
Looking back, the past five years seem like a blur and despite the fact most of the friends I started university with are now working 9 to 5 and getting on the property ladder, I can’t quite believe I’m already here. Is it really that time already?
Limitless
Academics aside (you know, the actual important bit), I’d say my takeaway from my time so far probably boils down to just one point: don’t limit yourself.
This applies to every aspect of life at vet school – from trying different clubs and sports in your first year, to keeping your options open when it comes to what type of vet you actually want to be. For example, when I first started writing for Vet Times as a wee 19 year old, I knew down to my bones that I wanted to be a farm vet… until I didn’t.
That’s not to say that cows aren’t still the cutest things that fill me with absolute joy, because they do. It’s even become a sort of car game among my vet friends to point out fields of them on long journeys. The fact of the matter is, I don’t know what I want to be any more, unless there’s an option for everything?
Growing confusion
I never really considered myself an exotics enthusiast, or a conservationist, or a wildlife welfare advocate until halfway through my veterinary degree, and with each passing EMS placement I become more and more torn as to which area I’d like to branch into.
“Don’t limit yourself” is also applicable to your life and interests outside of the course, to giving yourself a much-needed break during the revision period, and not being scared to ask questions of that vet who knows everything now, but was once just like you.
Don’t miss out
It makes for a very cheesy motto, but if you get too caught up in where you think you should be going when you first start vet school, you might miss out on some really incredible opportunities along the way.
It’s natural for you to end up being a very different person at the end of the course than you were when you first applied (a culmination of all of those years and experiences) – I know I certainly am.
Despite that all COVID-19 restrictions are due to be removed as early as the end of the month, the long-term impacts of this pandemic have yet to ease and will likely be sending ripples through many professions for the foreseeable future.
The virus has already left lasting changes to the landscape of the veterinary industry – not only in how it operates, but in how new professionals are taught from the ground up. Long gone are the days of packed-out waiting rooms and lecture theatres.
The more things change
Even with restrictions out of the way, it’s thought that measures put in place over the past two years to reduce viral transmission in our practices may remain the “new normal”, with clients asked to wait outside until necessary, and often with only a single owner asked to come in with their pet at any one time.
Several vet schools now operate under the banner of “blended learning”, whereby the curriculum is taught in a mixture of face-to-face content, live and online lectures, alongside pre-recorded, virtually accessible resources.
In the face of recurrent industrial action – coupled with the rising, desperate demand for new veterinary professionals – online teaching may offer a convenient, long-term solution.
Fallen behind
As with all change, there are pros and cons, although one area I think is yet to be fully addressed is the issue of EMS backlogs.
There are current backlogs in the NHS, the postal system and in many other major industries throughout the country, and I don’t believe the veterinary student training system has escaped unaffected.
For a good 12 to 18 months, many practices – especially small independents – were forced to shut their doors to both pre-clinical and clinical placements – and although EMS requirements were lowered for all year groups due to graduate by 2023, every succeeding year must complete the formerly required 26 weeks.
This has led to an overwhelmingly large number of students competing for a progressively smaller number of placement opportunities.
This makes it particularly difficult for students who lack their own transport, or the funds to travel far from their university or hometown, meaning there may be growing social inequity in the variety and quality of experience vet students are able to obtain.
Better the devil you know
Not only this, but large veterinary conglomerates may have the infrastructure to accommodate larger numbers of students, and new graduates may want to “stick with what they know” and, therefore, be less likely to consider signing contracts with smaller, independent practices.
There is also the argument that, with the rise of online teaching and decrease in student-lecturer contact, work experience has never been such a valuable tool in supplementing a student’s learning.
With the demand for placements higher than ever before, and veterinary practices sometimes two or three times busier than before the pandemic, the financial cost of EMS for some students has never been greater.
Essential experiences
Confidence, satisfaction and a balanced education behind all new graduates serves the interest of both individual professionals, and the profession as a whole.
In my opinion, there has never been a greater need for a review of the need for higher education funding for veterinary students, to allow every student access to a large variety of work experience and the opportunity to see what different avenues are available to them after graduation.
Many facets of mental health are comparable to physical illness/fitness, and I’ve gained a lot of introspection on how to keep myself mentally healthy and happy on the vet course from lessons I’ve learned from my physical training.
Since joining the gym a couple months before the pandemic hit (as futile as that turned out to be) to focus on my physical health, I’ve noticed a profound increase in my mental health and my general mood.
There’s a lot that links mental and physical health that we’re barely scratching the surface of. Endorphins released while exercising improve your mood and reduce anxiety, wearing out your body a little more during the day helps you sleep better at night, and building a routine can certainly be beneficial in a course as time-management crucial as veterinary medicine.
Getting physical
Having said that, I think there’s a lot more to it when it comes to prophylactic mental health.
When I started weightlifting, for example, it was easy to feel like more was better – to the point where I was putting in more time in the gym, but seeing less results.
As counterintuitive as this sounds, your body needs time to rest and recover before starting back fresh with renewed levels of energy. Usain Bolt isn’t trying to break records every single day, and being at 110% all the time sounds exhausting… and is probably also impossible.
The same can be said for working and revising. If you have an inbound deadline or exam, your impulse is likely to think that the more you work, the better your grade. But trust me, that’s just not always the case – and I learned this the hard way.
Heed the warning signs
After suffering from burnout in my first year – after three months straight of revision (which I began four months before exams) – I had to accept that, long term, high intensity just isn’t sustainable.
Recently, I’ve been able to apply the warning signs I’ve learned to pick up on at the gym to my work on the vet course.
If I’m noticing that I’m not motivated to work out, that the weight I lifted easily last week now feels super heavy, or my muscles are sore for longer, I know it’s time to tone it down. Similarly, if I can’t bring myself to stare at another textbook, if a fact I previously knew now keeps escaping me, or if I’m noticing longer periods of bad moods and shorter periods of feeling happy, I know that something needs to change.
For the former problem, I take a couple days off, do some stretching, and give myself time to heal. For the latter, the process is much the same, rest, relaxation and doing my best to switch my mind off – whether that’s TV, a good book, or, ironically, a good gym session.
Preventive approach
With the busy work life that comes with being a vet, I think the luxury of being able to go to the gym three or four times a week falls by the wayside, despite even the best of intentions.
I know of a lot of professionals who’ve given up hobbies like running or hiking because there simply aren’t the hours in the day.
However, giving our medical staff the time to take care of their physical health could go a long way to lessening the mental health crisis that has existed in the veterinary community for decades.
This month, we will look at the final part of a fluid therapy plan – accounting for ongoing losses. This can be challenging, but some general rules can be helpful.
Regular assessment is essential to track patients’ responses.
When considering ongoing losses, try to not forget about patients with pre-existing polyuric diseases; chronic renal failure is a prime example. Patients with dehydrated chronic renal failure are unlikely to suddenly regain concentrating ability. Polyuria should be considered as an ongoing loss.
Other conditions that may result in additional urinary fluid losses include post-obstructive diuresis, diabetes mellitus, hyperadrenocorticism and hyperthyroidsim.
How much to add?
This is the tricky part. I often add an additional half to one maintenance and frequently reassess clinical parameters, or if a urinary catheter is placed matching ins and outs.
Gastrointestinal tract losses can be collected and weighed; 1g of vomitus or diarrhoea can be roughly equivalent to 1ml of water.
Fluid removed from drains placed in cavities or wounds should also be measured and accounted for.
Remember the key point is regular assessment of the patient’s hydration status, from repeat clinical exams, to track their response. Don’t forget regular retesting of electrolytes – for example, every 12 to 24 hours for patients on IV fluids and not eating.
Although it may technically have finished in September with my final deadline, it didn’t feel complete or right to celebrate the end of my MSc intercalation until the final grades were released this month.
With my shoulders a little lighter, I can now look back on the experience with a fondness similar to that which I felt after completing my silver Duke of Edinburgh’s Award (a similarly exhausting experience) – and although it was definitely a steep learning curve, I’ve come away incredibly grateful for the experience and having learned the value of intercalating.
Lesson #1: you don’t have to be a one trick pony
Now, I’ve spoken before about the plethora of jobs a veterinary graduate can apply themselves to beyond clinical practice. Not only has intercalating made this all the more apparent to me, but it has also expanded my academic experience.
The vet course is very exam-centric (with the occasional directed self-education), and for those like me coming straight from GCSEs and A-levels with no prior undergrad degree, exams are all we’ve ever known. Course work and deadlines are an entirely new kind of process.
To put it in athletic terms, I feel it’s a little like a long-distance runner retraining for sprinting events. I’m used to planning six months ahead and slow-burning my revision in preparation for one big exam, so changing my mindset towards two to three coursework deadlines a month did not come naturally. Despite this, I appreciate the challenge, and it felt good to apply my mind in a different way – like stretching a new muscle.
Lesson #2: comfort zones are there to be defied
Everything I’ve learned and applied myself to over the past few years has been entirely vet related, so, for a while, I felt a bit like a fish out of water. Saying that, why does anybody intercalate, if not for a fresh perspective? I now know more about conservation efforts than I knew there was to know about, including several career routes I never would have even considered beforehand.
Pushing yourself and not getting set in your ways are valuable traits to have as a clinician. You need to be versatile, adaptable and open to new ideas, as well as constantly trying to work on yourself both personally and professionally (no sleeping on the job either, literally or figuratively).
At the start of this course, I’d never written a literature review, a grant proposal or a research paper – to tell you the truth, I’d have had no clue where to even start. The closer I get to graduation the more I worry about all the new challenges that lie ahead, but the past year has really helped my confidence and made those challenges seem less intimidating.
Lesson #3: absence makes the heart grow fonder
If it hadn’t been obvious to me from the beginning, it certainly is now. I really, really, really (am I overdoing it?) cannot wait to be a practising vet.
A short break from the course made me miss everything about it, which affirms that I am:
a total nerd, and
have likely been on the right course all along
Intercalating doesn’t have to imply disinterest in whatever medical degree you’re studying – quite the opposite. So, if you’re reading this article trying to decide on whether to intercalate yourself, my advice would be to go for it. Expanding your interests or abilities is never a bad thing.
Many vets return to education several years post-graduation anyway, and intercalating is a really useful way to explore a whole new world of academia in a relatively short space of time.
As the new academic year begins, veterinary schools across the UK are welcoming student vets on their journey to their chosen careers. While we all hope this year will be less eventful than last year, there’s little doubt that many large lectures will continue to be recorded or put online to minimise the spread of COVID-19.
Learning with technology is fast becoming standard practice for vets. There are eye-catching new tools, like simulation models that mimic arrhythmic heartbeats and augmented reality videos to demonstrate catheterisation, but there are also more subtle technologies many students may not think about. Lecture recording – the practice of capturing audio and visual representations of the lecture – is now common in many universities across the world.
There is a temptation to think about lectures as they were in James Herriot’s day, with a lecturer standing in front of a chalkboard drawing complicated anatomy diagrams while students squint and try to capture as much as they can on paper. Now – with smart boards, PowerPoints and recordings – students can have a much more complete record of the material covered – and fewer hand cramps.
While some lecturers have been concerned that recordings will stop students learning how to take notes, research at the Royal (Dick) School of Veterinary Studies has found many students use recordings very effectively in their study strategies.
In this work, some of which was funded by Echo360, a video-based teaching and learning platform, we have identified five top tips for students who want to make the most of studying with lecture recordings.
Whether your lecture is on campus in a bustling lecture hall or on a screen from the comfort of your bedroom, these tips will help you to get the most of your time at vet school (and we won’t lie, they are good for online CPD, too, for those qualified vets among you).
TIP #1: Know what the lecture is for
Most lectures will have “learning outcomes” or “instructional objectives”, either clearly detailed at the start of the lecture or highlighted as part of your course material (such as the course handbook).
Learning outcomes are a great way of making sure you have understood the purpose of the lecture and met its aims1. Learning outcomes usually begin with a statement like “at the end of this lecture, you should be able to…”. Unsurprisingly, these are the skills you should be able to do after you’ve finished the lecture!
Imagine a lecture designed to teach you how to make the perfect cup of tea. The learning outcomes might be:
Identify the sugar caddy, tea caddy and milk jug in the kitchen.
Describe how you would assess a person’s tea preference.
After the lecture, you should be able to go into your kitchen and point to the relevant equipment, and ask your guest how they like their tea to be made.
If you haven’t been able to achieve these things after the lecture, you might want to revise the topic again, review the recording, or ask the lecturer clarifying questions (“can you describe the sugar caddy again, Doctor?”). If you’re not sure what the learning outcomes are, be sure to look in your course handbook, but also don’t be afraid to ask your course organiser or lecturer.
TIP #2: Lectures as the diving board
Although it can seem as though you’ve just had an ocean’s worth of material dumped on your head in a lecture, your lecturer will be thinking you’ve barely dipped your toe in the water.
Often, the lecture is an introduction to the subject, a diving board that helps you find the right materials to study further. We’ve seen in our studies that students can use lecture recordings in all sorts of inventive and useful ways to support their learning.
Photo by Markus Spiske from Pexels
It might be tempting to put lecture recordings on while doing the dishes, like your favourite Netflix series, but studying should be a dynamic activity. In one study2 we found vet students would watch recordings, pausing often to look up references or clarify concepts from their own notes.
We’ve also seen that students like to revisit their lectures on EMS3 – particularly to reconsider tricky topics that may have come up on placement, or just as a reminder that they do know this material really.
TIP #3: Make good notes
While it’s easy to say “make sure you study actively with recordings”, it can be a bit harder to imagine what that looks like. Here are some of our recommendations for making the best of your notes.
Remember that your notes can (and maybe should) begin before the lecture. You will most likely know the topics in advance, so outline what you think you’re going to learn, and even some potential questions before you review a lecture recording or go to class.
Leave gaps in your notes where you might want to revisit important phases or concepts. This is particularly useful in recorded sessions, because you can concentrate on listening to the lecture, knowing you can revisit the recording and look up the spelling of “blepharorrhaphy” later. We all know that’s suturing eyelids, of course, but if you weren’t sure, you could test yourself when you’re filling in your notes after class by researching the answer after you’ve made a guess.
It’s important to remember that the best notes aren’t just a transcript of the lecture. The recording is there to help make sure you don’t miss the details, but you need to return to your notes and expand on them. There should be more in your lecture notes than what was said by the lecturer.
The notes you have at the start of class won’t be the same notes you have before the exam. The notes should evolve with you and your understanding of the subject. You may find it useful to reorganise your notes as you study. It might not be logical to you to have them in the order of your lectures. Most importantly, your notes are for you and don’t need to be pretty, or make sense to anyone else.
One of the great things about recordings is that they give you the freedom to experiment.
Let’s say you wanted to try a new way of taking notes, like the Cornell system4, you can pick a recorded lecture to experiment in. If you hate it, you can use the recording to fill your notes in again. Perhaps you feel you might concentrate more if you take notes on pen and paper instead of on a laptop – why not try it out?
You may also find it useful to take and store your own notes online alongside recorded lectures or, if your institution has one, use a dedicated chat thread to discuss them with your lecturer or fellow students. It can be helpful to supplement your own understanding of the topics being covered by drawing from different perspectives.
Vet school can feel very pressured, but experimenting is a really important part of learning. Taking the step from school to university can be a great time to figure out what works for you, and what you might want to change.
This tip is also especially useful for graduated vets who are working on CPD recordings – what worked for you before you graduated might not work when you’re also running a practice and dodging children underfoot.
We’ve heard that our students like to use recordings in group study sessions. Think about sharing your notes in sessions like these, be they in person or over an e-conferencing platform. Can you get any tips on organisation from others, or help each other to get a better understanding of the topic? These kinds of group discussions are so important, both for learning the topic, but also learning how to become collegiate vets.
My final tip is to try to relax. The last 18 months have been tough on everyone, and you might be worrying about sitting formal exams again, anxious about leaving your family dog behind or simply concerned about how you’ll balance all the clubs you’re trying to join.
Everyone needs a sick day occasionally, and one of the big things we’ve heard from our students is that having recordings and virtual learning environments can help take some of the pressure off.
Ultimately, the way you study will be very personal to you. The tools and technologies are there to help, and they are worth exploring and experimenting with. Most of all, take the time to enjoy these lectures. They are the first step on the path to becoming the vet you’re going to be.
The assumption is often made that many people get into the veterinary industry for the money. In fact, it’s always been a widely held public view that vets are raking it in.
This is, perhaps, due to a combination of the recognised difficulty of the job, seemingly extortionate vets’ bills and a propensity for Range Rovers.
Whatever the cause, this view was made all the more apparent on the 18 May edition of Good Morning Britain.
Concerns about cost
The original topic of debate – “Should there be an NHS for pets?” – sparked a subsequent debate into the pricing of veterinary care, with strong implications being made that pricing in the veterinary industry is “unregulated” and, therefore, unnecessarily high and perhaps even greedy?
As an outsider looking in, faced with an objectionably large bill for what you thought would only be a routine check-up, I can see how it’s easy to misunderstand where all that money can go, except into the pockets of the vets themselves – and yet this is a fallacy.
Clients just don’t understand
I feel an understandable nationwide misunderstanding exists of the true value of what we consider to be “routine” medical goods and services.
According to an NHS calculator, without health care, the price of a hospital child delivery would range from £2,500 to £5,000, depending on any complications. In the US, a single doctor’s consultation can cost you upwards of $200 (£141), with the average American spending more than $10,000 (£7,000) in health care a year as of 2016.
There’s no denying that we take human medical care for granted, so there’s little surprise when the cost of animal medical care puts our clients in need of a pacemaker (free of charge).
In it for the money
One of the very first things I learned about veterinary medicine – as I sat, rather excitedly, in a school-organised lecture given by the head vet of a local practice to a room of young, naive wannabe vets – was that if we were thinking of getting into the career for the money, we should change tack now, as we would be sorely disappointed.
I know I am luckier, now than ever before, to have the luxury of both job and financial security when I leave university, but it needs to be said that neither myself, nor any vet student I have ever encountered, got into this business for the money.
Even if we had, I think it would be fair to call us fools, as there must surely be an easier way to make money than five years of student housing, student loans, exams and poop scooping.
Initial outgoings
I think it also needs to be said that the phrase “it takes money to make money” could indeed be applied very aptly to the veterinary degree. A growing awareness exists of the potential accessibility imbalance when it comes to the vet course, depending on background, social class, funding and so on.
It’s no secret to those on the inside that getting into, and through, vet school can insure some serious dents in your wallet, and those of your parents (sorry parents); between textbooks, steel toe-capped wellingtons, petrol miles, Airbnbs for long-distance placements and stethoscopes (the most expensive necklace you will ever own), you are looking at a sizeable sum before you even get to student loans.
And that’s without considering being able to afford the time off work to travel to open days and interviews in the first place, with the assumption that you have a supportive network of family who have the money to fund your ambitions before you’ve even got your foot in the door…
An NHS for pets?
The topic of an NHS for pets aside, I think a great deal needs to be done to help us recognise the true privilege that is our human NHS, and the true value of the service given by all medical professionals.
The nature of the vet course is inherently competitive, with the odds stacked against you from the very beginning.
During our A-levels we are told that only 1 out of every 5 to 10 applicants make it to vet school, and that you’re lucky to get a single interview or offer (any more than that is just greedy).
In university, when students on other courses are totalling up their grades to calculate if they are getting 1sts or 2:1s, vets are given a pass mark of 50%, which has the paradoxical effect of making it seem like you should be sailing through the course when, in actual fact, the bar is set so low because – yes – it really is that hard.
Negative feelings
The majority of vets and vet students, I am sure, can report to experiencing some form of impostor syndrome at some point in their careers – if not throughout.
Impostor syndrome is the feeling you are not as bright, or competent, or worthy of where you are in life as everyone around you thinks you are. It can be a toxic, self-deprecating and sometimes debilitating sensation, making you feel entirely alone when really everyone around you is most likely in exactly the same boat.
No motivation
From a little of my own experience, and through speaking to others in the field, I know this feeling has only grown stronger among my peers as a result of the coronavirus pandemic.
After almost a year of online learning, open book exams and, in some cases, a complete lack of the hands-on practice and subsequent reassurance we should all be receiving right now, it’s only natural things don’t feel quite right.
No motivation. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels
Being cooped up all day, and going long periods of time without seeing friends and loved ones, certainly doesn’t inspire productivity, and it can be hard to stay motivated with nothing to look forward to on the horizon – whether that’s a long holiday in the sun or just a nice catch-up with your mates down the pub at the end of the week.
Under pressure
After a year of lockdowns with nothing else to do, I think it’s all too easy to put too much pressure on yourself to accomplish everything because, look, you’ve never had this much free time before!
I’ve heard from lots of students who think – especially due to last year’s open book exams – that they “don’t deserve to be here“; that they haven’t worked as hard as they could have, or should have; that they’ve dropped the standard, so to speak.
But that’s the thing, even if it doesn’t feel like you’re working as hard as your old self used to in “the before world of February 2020 and earlier”, that’s because this is a completely different kind of work.
Marathon effort
It’s so much easier to sit down and do a day’s work with no distractions when the rest of your life is stable, but when it’s not, even the little things can become difficult – and that’s okay.
Take marathon runners, for example: capable of running for miles and miles, so of course, that first mile, or even the first 10, probably feel like nothing (as a max 10km runner I wouldn’t know personally, but I can assume).
That 25th mile, though – when they’ve already come so far, they’re worn out and their energy reserves are entirely depleted – is probably the hardest one of all. It’s likely a challenge to just put one foot in front of the other. It’s going to feel like they’re working 1,000 times harder than they had to for that first mile, even though the distance hasn’t changed – the conditions have.
Photo by Tembela Bohle from Pexels
Third and final (?) leg
As the third lockdown trickled ever so slowly onwards, I think everyone felt like they were just trying to keep up on what they hope is going to be the last leg of this unprecedented journey.
For marathon runners at least, they know how long that run is going to be, so they can go all out on that final sprint. In lockdown terms, though, we don’t really know when this race is going to be over (despite the Government’s road map out of lockdown) – and that makes it okay to not feel like you have to give it your all every single day, but leave some in the tank so you can keep going the next day and the next.
No shame
What I’m trying to say (through some very dodgy metaphors) is that we’ve all come so far, and there is no shame in taking extra days off, or extra rest breaks; that if you passed an exam or a year at vet school – open books or not – you deserved that pass.
It was probably one of the hardest exams you ever had to take, at the dawn of a global pandemic when no one knew up from down or left from right.
We all need to be proud of ourselves for whatever we’ve achieved over the past 12 months, even if that’s just making it through and being there for each other.
This year has thrown a lot of annual landmarks into disarray, and A-levels were no exception; my heart went out to all the students this month whose results days did not go entirely to planned.
It has been three years since I went, heart in mouth, to receive my own dreaded envelope.
Even when I’d already learned that I’d been accepted by Bristol vet school just an hour before, it didn’t feel real until I saw those grades for myself on a physical piece of paper, so I can only imagine the anguish of children all over the country who did not get the same experience.
All the difference
The Government’s decision to roll back the downgrading of thousands of A-level results has left me grateful and relieved, because the fact of the matter is, if I had been sitting in the class of 2020 rather than that of 2017, I don’t think I would have made it to where I am now.
Back in 2017, I received D grades in both my mock exams for chemistry. It was a jarring experience and pushed me to dedicate all my efforts into getting the A grades I needed for when it really counted.
Without the patient, supportive and hands-on help I received from my teachers in the months between my mocks and the real exams, I would never have gotten that A. If you asked me to get the same results without that support, and through the stress and uncertainty of a global pandemic, I think I may have burst out crying.
Meaningless mocks
The thing to keep in mind is, I don’t think that second scenario would have made me any less capable of being a veterinary professional, yet I would have been denied that future.
This article is not meant to be political because, of course, no perfect solution exists; for a time as unprecedented as this, there could never possibly be one. I can, however, tell you that, using my own past as evidence, mocks no more define a student’s ability or aptitude than GCSE or A-level grades define that student.
The difference between a B and an A can be as simple as a good or bad night’s sleep before an exam, the ability to afford a tutor or the home life a student returns to even after the best day’s schooling in the world.
Diversification
Another reason I’m so glad for the Government’s change of heart is because I wholeheartedly believe that every course and profession – especially professional ones like veterinary medicine – is bettered and made stronger by having a diverse body of people from a variety of backgrounds.
The veterinary course is sometimes accused of being “elitist” – I think because of the work it takes to even gain an interview. When you factor in travel costs, work experience opportunities and academic support, the door becomes closed to more and more people.
I have also spoken before about how I don’t believe academic ability is all that it takes to make a good vet.
People skills, compassion, determination, resilience and a level head are all things that individuals need to take with them into any professional vocation. An understanding of science and maths is undeniably important, as is the ability to retain large quantities of information, problem solve and reason.
But if you focus on the grades alone, you only see half the person – in the case of this year, maybe even less.
Recognising value
I hope the changing grades for those with their hearts set on a place on a veterinary or human medicine course this year did not come too late. As some of the most over-subscribed courses, places are filled almost instantly.
I also hope every university recognises both the uniqueness of the times and the value of the person behind each results sheet.
In a world currently filled with sacrifice and compromise, the cancellation of a week’s EMS over the Easter holidays did not, at first glance, seem like a hardship.
Of course I had been looking forward to my first ever farm-practice placement – especially as only a week or so before I had tried my hand at my very first rectal exam and even understood, with sudden and unexpected glee, what some of those lumps and bumps actually were.
But the idea of a little extra time with the family and a whole additional week to focus on upcoming exams meant that, initially, I was not too disheartened.
What does it mean?
Now we’re several weeks deep into lockdown, with no clear end date on the calendar and firm Government advice to “not expect a return to normality anytime soon”, what does this mean for my friends, colleagues and peers at veterinary school – my unlucky year in particular? The situation is different for each year.
First-year students
Poor freshers have had to miss out on Easter lambing season – an unspoken rite of passage into the vet student community. After all, if you’ve never come home without bodily fluids in your hair, are you really one of us?
Second-year students
Second years are having to postpone pre-clinical EMS, compared to those in their fourth year who are sacrificing what could be termed “the good stuff” – that is, real problems in real practices, suturing, injecting, slicing, dicing and all of that (though maybe not the last one). But hopefully the majority of these students will have managed to gain experience in their respective levels of training over the summer of 2019.
Final-year students
Final years have been somewhat of a priority, and rightly so, with special arrangements being made to ensure they graduate fully qualified and at no more of a disadvantage than those who graduated the year before.
My friends and I
Enter now the third years – the year I myself am a part of.
This year marks a transition for us; a stepping stone from sweeping dung from a variety of sources and essentially stepping back to watch the magic happen, to actually doing the magic – or at least attempting it with a sweaty brow under the watchful eye of several veteran professionals.
It’s a big thing. A big, scary, daunting prospect of a thing, but a thing nonetheless – and, given the uncertainty we’re facing in terms of what the future holds for anything and everything, the question is being opened as to what this means for the next generation of vets.
Abnormal
We’ve been told by many officials not to expect “normality” for some time.
“Normality” in this case meaning “the way we’ve always done things” – crowding together in coffee shops, restaurants, and hospital and practice waiting rooms without a care in the world.
“Virus? What virus?” we would say.
But, although certain establishments can change the way they operate – cafés can upregulate hygiene and waiting rooms can impose distancing restrictions – EMS is another matter entirely.
Impractical
Veterinary practices and animal hospitals are undoubtedly some of the cleanest places in the world – because they have to be – and vets themselves are no strangers to singing Happy Birthday twice before eating their lunch. But opening their doors to one or several new vet students each and every week in the coming months might just not be feasibly possible.
A lot of practices – especially independents – are small compared to their human counterparts, which has never really been a problem for us because, luckily, a lot of animals are also rather small. It does mean, however, that, a lot of the time, the two-metre rule just wouldn’t be practical – even if your only purpose is to stand and observe.
For those still needing to undertake pre-clinical placements, a whole new set of challenges exist, including the willingness of farmers to take on students whose help would not be essential, as viral exposure for them could mean a complete loss of livelihood.
Preclinical conundrum
It is an RCVS requirement for all students to complete a minimum of 12 weeks’ preclinical and 26 weeks’ clinical EMS. However, fourth-year students have already had their mandated clinical minimum halved to a mere 12 weeks.
While other years are currently expected to be able to “make up” any missed placements before graduation, the fact the situation is constantly in flux means the RCVS has admitted further reductions may be needed.
While this would certainly be helpful and take some of the pressure off for those of whom meeting the usual requirements would be an impossible feat, one has to worry how this will affect student confidence in the long run.
Key experiences
There is a reason the RCVS has always asked for a certain amount of EMS, and while the number seems daunting at first, it’s only during (or perhaps after) each placement that you can truly see its value.
Practice makes perfect – but, more than that, it builds confidence. It provides an environment in which mistakes are not life-threatening and are safe to be learned from.
With the loss of these key experiences that have helped shape generation after generation of vet students, it is perhaps inevitable that vet schools will have to adapt even further than they already have to limit the knock-on impact of a scenario we have never had to face before.
