Page 3 of Deep Blue Lies
The Medical School is a six-storey building, and my meeting’s on the top floor. I take the stairs, mostly because now I’m here, I want to delay things as much as possible. But that’s never going to be a long-term strategy.
Miss Whitaker, thank you for attending…
There are three people seated in front of me. My tutor Dr Samson is on the left, he likes us to call him Gavin. There’s Dr Evans, who is the academic representative. I don’t think he has a first name anymore. Then there’s an older woman – I don’t catch her name, but she’s introduced as a Student Support Officer, except she looks about as supportive as a wasp at a picnic. I try to give each of them a bright smile, to show how much I want this to go well, but then I wait, watching them shuffletheir papers.
“The panel has reviewed your performance in the April exams,” – it’s Dr Evans who leads the meeting. – “pathology, anatomy and physiology, and while your grades have improved a little, they still fall below what is required for you to move onto year four of your degree.”
“I know,” I say, biting my lip and launching into my defence. “The trouble was I ran out of money. I was working all through Christmas, and it just didn’t give me the time I needed to study. But I won’t work over the summer. I’ve saved enough, so I’ll do better with the resits.” I’ve prepared this defence in my mind: sympathy, a hard-work ethic. Owning my mistakes. Even if it’s not necessarily true.
Dr Evans and my tutor share a glance, then he turns back to me. “But you’d still need to be studying your fourth-year material, alongside the resits for year three?”
Thatistrue, and it’s been stressing me quite a bit.
“Yeah, but I can do it. I just need to really focus.”
There’s a silence. Then from the papers in front of him, Dr Evans pulls out something else.
“This wouldn’t be the first time your performance here has raised concerns, would it Miss Whitaker?” He holds up the paper to show me.
“You were emailed a warning in October, and then again in February. Both explicitly stated that a failure to achieve the progression requirements in the April exams would result in your place being at risk. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
Dr Evans furrows his brow, and hums under his breath. I’ve only had him for a few classes but he’s weirdly humourless. I remember one class where I came in late, because it was the morning after Kevin’s birthday. I wonder if he’s remembering it now too.
“Miss Whitaker.” He smiles suddenly, sickly false. “Medical school is highly demanding, and a certain percentage of students simply find they’re not up to the challenge.” He pauses, lookingme right in the eyes. “There’s no shame in that. Many people go on to find fulfilling careers outside of medicine.”
We stare at each other as my brain fills in the implications. Others don’t. Then Gavin breaks in.
“An alternative possibility, Ava, is that you take a break from your studies now, and possibly re-apply at some point in the future.” I turn to him, and see what I guess is supposed to be a helpful smile.
“What do you mean?” I still feel Dr Evans’s eyes burning into me.
“A year, perhaps two? Take some time, find out who you are and what you really want from life.” He smiles like he’s just given me the gift of wisdom. But his face falls when he sees I don’t want it.
“I want to be a doctor,” I tell him.
Gavin’s face crumples. “Look, Ava. We all understand how hard you’ve worked to get here, we really do. But Dr Evans is quite correct. This is a very challenging environment, and perhaps you’re just not quite ready? You said you had some money saved? Perhaps you could use that to gain some life experience? Afterwards you might come back, when you’re more able to dedicate yourself to your studies.”
I don’t reply.
“You could travel,” Gavin goes on, warming to his theme now. “A lot of young people take gap years, and they can be hugely beneficial. Do the backpacker route in Thailand, go island-hopping in Greece…” He smiles at the idea, but it jolts with me – does he know I’m half-Greek? I told some people here, but not him…
He’s still talking though, and I tell myself to concentrate. “Of course we can’tguaranteeyou’ll be re-admitted, but you’ve passed years one and two, so the admission panel may look favourably on you, particularly if it seems you’ve…matured in the intervening time.”
I look back at Dr Evans, who seems bored now with theproceedings. He even glances at his watch, like I’m keeping him from lunch.
“I’m sorry, I don’t really understand exactly what’s happening here,” I say, even though I think I do. It’s Gavin who replies, hesitantly.
“Ava. The panel is strongly recommending that you voluntarily step back from the course. I think that’s where we’re at.” He smiles again, as if he’s offering me a holiday. All expenses paid.
“Miss Whitaker,” Dr Evans cuts in. “What Dr Samson is saying is that the panel is prepared to frame this as you deciding to step away. But if you choose not to, wewillfail you. And that will be the end of your career in medicine. Is that clear enough for you?”
Maybe I was wrong about the expenses.
I swallow. I think somehow I didn’t really believe it was going to come to this. Even though I’ve seen others leave, because they didn’t get through the exams, or couldn’t find the money. I thought somehow I’d be different. But apparently not.
“My mum’s gonna kill me,” I mutter, not meaning anyone to hear me, but Dr Evans does.
