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Last Friday, I bravely battled the fierce traffic of downtown Washington, D.C. and made my way to the Westin Hotel, on the corner of 14th and M Streets, to attend a Veterinary Medical Career Fair sponsored by the Association of American Veterinary Medical Colleges (AAVMC). Here, representatives from the majority of the vet schools accredited by this organization set up tables featuring their recruiting literature and a plethora of useless tchotchkes (seriously, what on earth do I need with a foam stress device in the shape of a dog bone?). I figured this would be a fantastic opportunity to talk to the different schools and find out what they’re all about. A bit of school shopping if you will (and y’all know how much I love to shop!). Plus, it got me out of work a bit early on a Friday – woo-hoo!
After spending the better part of two hours talking to the various schools, here’s what I found out:
- Kansas State seems really desperate to recruit students. This is probably not a fair statement since ALL the vet schools are hard to get into, but the recruiter working the table seemed overly excited to talk to me and quite literally shoved everything he had to offer into my hand – brochures, pencils, bandanas for my dog – all while speaking at a rapid fire pace. Not a slam on the man as he was quite nice; I just thought he was funny. However, he did inform me that KSU has no minimum hour requirements for the non-academic “animal experience” portion of the application process. Hmmmm, interesting...
- Americans and Europeans differ greatly on their opinions regarding how much “personal space” each human is entitled. I spoke to a recruiter from the Royal Veterinary College from the University of London who was a real sweetheart and absolutely fascinating to talk to, but did so at a very close range. Honestly, she was so close I felt like she was going to reach out and hug me at any moment. However, she told me enough great things about the school that I feel like London could be a very neat place to attend vet school.
- Don’t like lecture-based learning? That’s OK. Cornell, Western and Colorado State Universities all have some form of what is called “Problem-Based Learning,” PBL for short. This is really cool. Instead of sitting in lecture for three years and doing clinical rotations only in the fourth year, you start working on cases the first day you step foot into the school. They break the class up into groups of about 8 or 10 and in these small groups, you break each case down by medical component, study it, digest it, lather, rinse, repeat until you finally do your formal rotations in the fourth year. In other words, you get to do doctor stuff from day one. Wow.
- The guy from University of Pennsylvania gave me a great strategy on how to better my chances of getting in. Become a resident again. This places you into a different applicant pool that increases your chances of acceptance from under 0.5% all the way up to 25%. Still pretty shaky in terms of numbers, but MUCH better than trying to apply from out-of-state. My gut tells me this strategy is not limited to U of PA. Something to chew on…
- Apparently Michigan State University is too sexy for its recruiters. Or decent brochures. Their table was in a corner, by itself, no one behind it, with only flyers consisting of two stapled, letter-sized pieces of paper offered to those interested. However, from talking to other people, reading articles and doing my own research, I hear MSU is still a great school and is definitely worth looking at. I suppose it helps that I have family living about an hour away.
- Speaking to representatives from Virginia Tech, the school I had most anticipated gaining admittance (for obvious reasons) was a bit of a let down. When asked similar questions to those asked of other schools, which did require a certain amount of comparison to other schools, the woman became a bit defensive and called out other schools on some of their faults. Salesmanship 101 will teach you that bad mouthing the competition does not serve as a successful marketing strategy and can, in fact, backfire. This was exactly how I felt. I know very well that one person’s opinions may not reflect the quality of the school in its entirety, but to say I was somewhat disappointed would be a gross understatement. I feel like I will still apply, but perhaps with less enthusiasm as before. Perhaps a visit to the campus will reinstate my good feelings toward the school. After all, the gentleman from VA Tech did say that most applicants who declined their acceptance offers had done so without ever seeing the campus.
So there you have it, the top 7 schools I am interested in applying to a few years from now. Which one of these schools would I like most to accept my application? Whichever school will admit me, that’s which one.
Oh, but wait! Those counting along will note that I mentioned 8 schools. Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m going to Kansas. Sorry Kansas! I’m sure you’re a very nice state and you have a wonderful personality; I’m just not feeling the chemistry, if ya know what I’m sayin’. Same goes for states that begin with the letter “I.” Too bad there isn’t a vet school in Hawaii.
Ha! I suppose beggars can be choosers, afterall.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
They Love me...They REALLY Love Me!!!
So, it’s not really that big of a deal, but it kind of is a big deal. I got my acceptance letter from George Mason University in the mail a couple days ago. Yea!
To any normal kid who’s doing the post-secondary education thing the normal way (right out of high school), this is a very stressful time in his/her life. Filling out all those applications, writing all those essays, making mom/dad write all those checks for application processing fees – all so you can find out if you’ll be attending the college of your dreams (or if you’ll be stuck with Plan B).
This is what’s very nice about being an adult student, because you get to shrug your shoulders and make like you actually don’t give a crap one way or another as to the school you are going to attend. And why would you? You already have a paying job, right? Benefits? A 401K perhaps? Who gives a flying dookie?
Here you are, you’ve racked up some credits at a junior college, (presumably) achieved the best grades that you possibly could, and thrown out a couple of applications to the four year Universities closest to your house. If you get in, great. If not, better luck next semester. [That’s the cool thing about being a transfer student…you get to keep re-applying relentlessly every semester until you wear them down and they finally let you in.] Plus, you know damn well that you applied as a transfer student and, for all intents and purposes, you’re a shoo-in, provided you get a half decent GPA (at least that’s the way it works in VA). They’re gonna accept you. No worries. Right?
Uh-huh. Whatever. This is me we’re talking about. The one who worries about upper respiratory infections every time the cat snores. The one who won’t open up the manhole-cover-thingy that leads to the attic (despite the promise of a boat load of much needed storage space) because of the inevitable threat of eight-legged intruders breeching the inner sanctity of my arachnid-free home. The one who is currently undergoing a complete regimen of orthodontics to save ONE TOOTH. Yeah, that’d be me.
I admit it, I worried! I checked George Mason’s applicant website everyday to check for any new status on my application. I got mad when I kept seeing nothing. But I got my letter, finally, so yea!
So, if you can picture it, here’s me doing the cabbage patch. And the Roger Rabbit. And raising my hands in the air, wavin’ ‘em like I just don’t care. And hooting out 70’s disco noises to the songs in my head. And yelling out, “Who’s Your Daddy?” to random passers-by.
OK, maybe not all that, but it is nice to know that this is one less thing I have to worry about. Imagine what I’ll be like when it comes time to start submitting applications to vet schools. Yikes.
To any normal kid who’s doing the post-secondary education thing the normal way (right out of high school), this is a very stressful time in his/her life. Filling out all those applications, writing all those essays, making mom/dad write all those checks for application processing fees – all so you can find out if you’ll be attending the college of your dreams (or if you’ll be stuck with Plan B).
This is what’s very nice about being an adult student, because you get to shrug your shoulders and make like you actually don’t give a crap one way or another as to the school you are going to attend. And why would you? You already have a paying job, right? Benefits? A 401K perhaps? Who gives a flying dookie?
Here you are, you’ve racked up some credits at a junior college, (presumably) achieved the best grades that you possibly could, and thrown out a couple of applications to the four year Universities closest to your house. If you get in, great. If not, better luck next semester. [That’s the cool thing about being a transfer student…you get to keep re-applying relentlessly every semester until you wear them down and they finally let you in.] Plus, you know damn well that you applied as a transfer student and, for all intents and purposes, you’re a shoo-in, provided you get a half decent GPA (at least that’s the way it works in VA). They’re gonna accept you. No worries. Right?
Uh-huh. Whatever. This is me we’re talking about. The one who worries about upper respiratory infections every time the cat snores. The one who won’t open up the manhole-cover-thingy that leads to the attic (despite the promise of a boat load of much needed storage space) because of the inevitable threat of eight-legged intruders breeching the inner sanctity of my arachnid-free home. The one who is currently undergoing a complete regimen of orthodontics to save ONE TOOTH. Yeah, that’d be me.
I admit it, I worried! I checked George Mason’s applicant website everyday to check for any new status on my application. I got mad when I kept seeing nothing. But I got my letter, finally, so yea!
So, if you can picture it, here’s me doing the cabbage patch. And the Roger Rabbit. And raising my hands in the air, wavin’ ‘em like I just don’t care. And hooting out 70’s disco noises to the songs in my head. And yelling out, “Who’s Your Daddy?” to random passers-by.
OK, maybe not all that, but it is nice to know that this is one less thing I have to worry about. Imagine what I’ll be like when it comes time to start submitting applications to vet schools. Yikes.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Saturday Morning: For the Birds
Part of the application process of getting into veterinary school actually happens well before you even think about starting the actual application. To be considered for acceptance into a veterinary program, one must first log in hundreds of hours of employment or volunteer time spent working in science or with animals to satisfy a number of “non-academic prerequisites.” It is really never too early to begin working on these particular prerequisites. Virginia Tech, for example, recommends 400-600 hours of clinical experience in an animal hospital, 200-300 hours of large or mixed animal experience (i.e.- horses, zoo animals, commercial/food animals), and yet another 100-300 hours working in a corporate or research setting. On the high side, that’s roughly 1200 hours of scooping poop and not getting paid for it. For those following along at home, the average full time job rings in 2080 hours annually. This means that in the middle of working and schooling full time, I have to figure out how to defecate more hours out of an already constipated schedule to the tune of another half time job. Giving myself 2-3 years to knock this out is probably one of my better decisions I’ve made yet!
Being thusly short on free time, a girl needs to get creative. This means finding little snippets of volunteer efforts in which to become involved for the sake of sharpening my skills of making mountains from molehills. More on this later…
My first volunteer opportunity was on March 1st. The task was to assist the “Wildlife Coordinators” (Hoo doggy, DO NOT call them Park Rangers!) at the Mason Neck National Wildlife Refuge with counting blue heron nests in the rookery located on the banks of the Potomac River. Not real hands on, mind you, but still science-y nonetheless.
My contact, Marty, who at this point I only know through emails, advised us volunteers to meet up at the rally point at 0800 (for my civilian friends, that 8:00 am – aka too damn early on a Saturday). So, wanting to make a great first impression for my new “friends,” I woke up nice and early (grumble) and made it to the front gate at 0745 (translation: 7:45a…you’ll catch on, I promise). Here’s what welcomed me:
Son of a baby biter, I should have known! How could I forget that I was dealing with the federal government? Ugh. So there I sat for 20 minutes until Ranger - I’m sorry, Coordinator - Grumpy Pants came to open up the gate. Seriously, he was a real bear. I said a friendly good morning, he snarled at me. I was going to take a picture of his sour puss, but he looked like he’d eat my camera if I did.
After he opens up the gate, I continue to the rally point, knowing full well I’d be there way before anyone else. Sure enough, it was a full 45 minutes until someone else, showed up. “Did I miss the memo?” I ask my fellow volunteer. Apparently, I did. There was an email sent out the night before moving the meeting time to the right an hour. Figures. I was at the Jeff Dunham show when that came in and I never bothered to check my email before bed. I could have slept in an hour longer. I could have bathed! Ah!
The refuge is a beautiful wooded area right on the Potomac River – pretty rare in these parts. I took these pictures while waiting for everyone else to drag their sorry butts out of bed.
Notice my trusty steed in front of the maintenance shed. I’ll never get rid of that vehicle!
Finally everyone shows up. The turn out was lower than expected, but enough to get the job done. We were divided into different groups (I got to be in the group that did the most hiking, which is way cool), got briefed in on what we needed to do and piled into the vans for the short drive down to the dike that served as the outside boundary of the rookery. In short, we were to count the heron nests that we found, record the number and put chalk lines on the trees so they weren’t doubled counted. Not brain science, but probably about as much as I cared to handle on Saturday morning. I got to be the data recorder – a position that I handily placed myself into for reasons I’ll detail later.
All in all, it was a really cool experience. We saw a ton of heron nests and even more blue herons flying around.
These birds must have smurfs as general contractors, so indicated by their aerial subdivisions. There were many, many trees that looked like this.
As many nests as we counted (rough count was 788), it was still not good news for the herons. According to Coordinator Joe, the trend over the last seven years or so has been a slight, but steady decline in the heron population as well as a marked eastward shift of their habitat. It was also rumored that more nests had been found on the ground this year than had in years past. I guess even the blue herons aren’t safe from the effects of a crappy real estate market.
One hypothesis into the decline of the heron population has stemmed from an increase in the bald eagle population. As they compete for the same resources, bald eagles – the larger, more aggressive of the two species (who have clearly mastered the art of the avian McMansion) – appear to be running the herons out of their happy home. I’ll let you play with the symbolism on this one.
Bottom line, it was a fun, unique experience. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
My take aways:
- I have officially logged four hours of science / animal experience under my belt which, of course, further cements my aspirations to get into veterinary school (there’s no way I’d miss sleeping on a Saturday unless there was a really good reason).
- This makes great application fodder. As per my duties as “data recorder,” I “tracked” blue heron habitats (walked around aimlessly waiting for teammates to call out numbers), “recorded observations” (wrote numbers on a paper), “analyzed the resulting statistical data” (added up the columns at the end), and “submitted the findings to the lead research team” (left the clipboard on the table). Hey, you write enough resumes, you’re bound to become a skillful BS technician.
- I made some great contacts so that maybe, just maybe, they’ll call me back to help conduct some actual research.
On my way home from the Wildlife Refuge, I found a government owned stable full of horses. Naturally, I had to stop in to see what it was all about. That story next time.
BFN.
Being thusly short on free time, a girl needs to get creative. This means finding little snippets of volunteer efforts in which to become involved for the sake of sharpening my skills of making mountains from molehills. More on this later…
My first volunteer opportunity was on March 1st. The task was to assist the “Wildlife Coordinators” (Hoo doggy, DO NOT call them Park Rangers!) at the Mason Neck National Wildlife Refuge with counting blue heron nests in the rookery located on the banks of the Potomac River. Not real hands on, mind you, but still science-y nonetheless.
My contact, Marty, who at this point I only know through emails, advised us volunteers to meet up at the rally point at 0800 (for my civilian friends, that 8:00 am – aka too damn early on a Saturday). So, wanting to make a great first impression for my new “friends,” I woke up nice and early (grumble) and made it to the front gate at 0745 (translation: 7:45a…you’ll catch on, I promise). Here’s what welcomed me:
Son of a baby biter, I should have known! How could I forget that I was dealing with the federal government? Ugh. So there I sat for 20 minutes until Ranger - I’m sorry, Coordinator - Grumpy Pants came to open up the gate. Seriously, he was a real bear. I said a friendly good morning, he snarled at me. I was going to take a picture of his sour puss, but he looked like he’d eat my camera if I did.
After he opens up the gate, I continue to the rally point, knowing full well I’d be there way before anyone else. Sure enough, it was a full 45 minutes until someone else, showed up. “Did I miss the memo?” I ask my fellow volunteer. Apparently, I did. There was an email sent out the night before moving the meeting time to the right an hour. Figures. I was at the Jeff Dunham show when that came in and I never bothered to check my email before bed. I could have slept in an hour longer. I could have bathed! Ah!
The refuge is a beautiful wooded area right on the Potomac River – pretty rare in these parts. I took these pictures while waiting for everyone else to drag their sorry butts out of bed.
Notice my trusty steed in front of the maintenance shed. I’ll never get rid of that vehicle!
Finally everyone shows up. The turn out was lower than expected, but enough to get the job done. We were divided into different groups (I got to be in the group that did the most hiking, which is way cool), got briefed in on what we needed to do and piled into the vans for the short drive down to the dike that served as the outside boundary of the rookery. In short, we were to count the heron nests that we found, record the number and put chalk lines on the trees so they weren’t doubled counted. Not brain science, but probably about as much as I cared to handle on Saturday morning. I got to be the data recorder – a position that I handily placed myself into for reasons I’ll detail later.
All in all, it was a really cool experience. We saw a ton of heron nests and even more blue herons flying around.
These birds must have smurfs as general contractors, so indicated by their aerial subdivisions. There were many, many trees that looked like this.
As many nests as we counted (rough count was 788), it was still not good news for the herons. According to Coordinator Joe, the trend over the last seven years or so has been a slight, but steady decline in the heron population as well as a marked eastward shift of their habitat. It was also rumored that more nests had been found on the ground this year than had in years past. I guess even the blue herons aren’t safe from the effects of a crappy real estate market.
One hypothesis into the decline of the heron population has stemmed from an increase in the bald eagle population. As they compete for the same resources, bald eagles – the larger, more aggressive of the two species (who have clearly mastered the art of the avian McMansion) – appear to be running the herons out of their happy home. I’ll let you play with the symbolism on this one.
Bottom line, it was a fun, unique experience. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
My take aways:
- I have officially logged four hours of science / animal experience under my belt which, of course, further cements my aspirations to get into veterinary school (there’s no way I’d miss sleeping on a Saturday unless there was a really good reason).
- This makes great application fodder. As per my duties as “data recorder,” I “tracked” blue heron habitats (walked around aimlessly waiting for teammates to call out numbers), “recorded observations” (wrote numbers on a paper), “analyzed the resulting statistical data” (added up the columns at the end), and “submitted the findings to the lead research team” (left the clipboard on the table). Hey, you write enough resumes, you’re bound to become a skillful BS technician.
- I made some great contacts so that maybe, just maybe, they’ll call me back to help conduct some actual research.
On my way home from the Wildlife Refuge, I found a government owned stable full of horses. Naturally, I had to stop in to see what it was all about. That story next time.
BFN.
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Beginning: Part III - The End of the Beginning
Looks like my posting frequency is going to be about once a week. Good enough for government work, so it's good enough for, well, no one, really. I’m over it.
OK, let’s finish up the boring catch-up stuff already, shall we?
Where was I? Oh, I believe I was at the part where I had yet another epiphany regarding what the hel – I mean heck – I want to do with my life (see? Caught myself – all ye naysayers!).
I don’t know exactly what kicked off this whole thought thread, but I can clearly remember driving home from a weekend at my folks in PA, doing some thinking (and more thinking and some over thinking, too), when I realized that the path I intended to take may not be the right one after all. [I know! Go on!]
For one thing, trying to earn my Masters degree while working full time would take me roughly half of forever to complete. Who’s to say that this animal behavior trainer lady is even going to be around when I’m finally done with the whole she-bang. Secondly, just who is this chick, anyway? Who’s to say she has any street cred when it comes to animal behavior? Maybe there’s a reason that this is a subspecialty in the veterinary field.
Having made enough mistakes with my life thus far to satisfy three normal lifetimes, I’m not exactly enthused to go around making an even bigger mess of my life by making cut-corner, dumb decisions. So what, then, is a girl to do when she wants very badly to have a career working with animals? Field biology is out – I can’t deal with things that have eight legs. I know, I’m a taxonomic bigot, but spiders are freaking creepy. Being a vet tech or vet assistant is also out – while being among the noblest of professions, in my book, the salaries of those particular occupations will simply not be able to withstand the rigors of my Coach habit. OK, forget the Coach habit. You can hardly exist on those salaries; God bless those who somehow pull it off. They obviously don’t live in Northern Virginia (notice there how I capitalized Northern – we’re our own state here. Oh, wait, no…we just get taxed like it! *Rim shot, please*).
Anywho, back to my dilemma here. So I analyzed this and analyzed that (Billy Crystal not included) and determined that, if I could maintain the grades that I have been so far, screw it, I might as well go to vet school. Pretty lofty, plan, right? It sure goes along way to ensuring that I quit changing my major, which is handy and a bit more cost effective. It also seals my fate to eternal indebtedness as vet school tuition is NO JOKE expensive. For example, in-state tuition and U of Penn is $30K. Per year. That’s roughly $140K after four years of tuition, books, supplies, etc. That does not include housing. Awesome. I’m gonna mortgage my future. But whatever. That’s the price you pay for wanting to save the world, one guinea pig at a time.
So, there it is, the quick and dirty version of where I’m headed, what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. This way, when you read about me traipsing around in the woods counting bird nests, you know why I’m doing it. I’m not kidding, that’s what I did this weekend. More to come later.
OK. That's the last boring background posting. Thanks for humoring me.
BFN.
OK, let’s finish up the boring catch-up stuff already, shall we?
Where was I? Oh, I believe I was at the part where I had yet another epiphany regarding what the hel – I mean heck – I want to do with my life (see? Caught myself – all ye naysayers!).
I don’t know exactly what kicked off this whole thought thread, but I can clearly remember driving home from a weekend at my folks in PA, doing some thinking (and more thinking and some over thinking, too), when I realized that the path I intended to take may not be the right one after all. [I know! Go on!]
For one thing, trying to earn my Masters degree while working full time would take me roughly half of forever to complete. Who’s to say that this animal behavior trainer lady is even going to be around when I’m finally done with the whole she-bang. Secondly, just who is this chick, anyway? Who’s to say she has any street cred when it comes to animal behavior? Maybe there’s a reason that this is a subspecialty in the veterinary field.
Having made enough mistakes with my life thus far to satisfy three normal lifetimes, I’m not exactly enthused to go around making an even bigger mess of my life by making cut-corner, dumb decisions. So what, then, is a girl to do when she wants very badly to have a career working with animals? Field biology is out – I can’t deal with things that have eight legs. I know, I’m a taxonomic bigot, but spiders are freaking creepy. Being a vet tech or vet assistant is also out – while being among the noblest of professions, in my book, the salaries of those particular occupations will simply not be able to withstand the rigors of my Coach habit. OK, forget the Coach habit. You can hardly exist on those salaries; God bless those who somehow pull it off. They obviously don’t live in Northern Virginia (notice there how I capitalized Northern – we’re our own state here. Oh, wait, no…we just get taxed like it! *Rim shot, please*).
Anywho, back to my dilemma here. So I analyzed this and analyzed that (Billy Crystal not included) and determined that, if I could maintain the grades that I have been so far, screw it, I might as well go to vet school. Pretty lofty, plan, right? It sure goes along way to ensuring that I quit changing my major, which is handy and a bit more cost effective. It also seals my fate to eternal indebtedness as vet school tuition is NO JOKE expensive. For example, in-state tuition and U of Penn is $30K. Per year. That’s roughly $140K after four years of tuition, books, supplies, etc. That does not include housing. Awesome. I’m gonna mortgage my future. But whatever. That’s the price you pay for wanting to save the world, one guinea pig at a time.
So, there it is, the quick and dirty version of where I’m headed, what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. This way, when you read about me traipsing around in the woods counting bird nests, you know why I’m doing it. I’m not kidding, that’s what I did this weekend. More to come later.
OK. That's the last boring background posting. Thanks for humoring me.
BFN.
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