 |
The Grant House at MCV
Current site of the MHA program
(He visited there once after many years absence
and found one of the great professors,
Dr. Ramesh Shukla still there -
they had a fine time reminiscing...) |
He was an Air Force health care administrator
A freshly minted one
Serving as a sort of chief financial officer...the main budget person
At a nicely located Northwest US Air Force hospital
He met a counterpart from a larger hospital
Who advised him on the next logical
Career progression step...
How to get into Air Force sponsored grad school
His counterpart said; "I applied for it three times
And finally got accepted on the third attempt."
So he applied, fully preparing to get turned down
But was surprised with acceptance
First shot - dumbfounded and feeling lucky
Next step...find a civilian grad school,
Masters in Health Care Administration type
That would accept him.
His first choice...The University of Washington
Close to home and a cool place to live
They didn't want him
"Not enough meat in his mathematics undergrad work."
Which was true as all he had was undergrad statistics
He had challenged the required basic math via CLEP testing
Next stop (attempt), the Medical College of Virginia
Good possibility as there were two former Air Force
Health care administrators on the faculty
So he got a visit and an interview
One of the profs who was ex-Air Force challenged him;
"You have nice letters of recommendation
But we all know they are somewhat inflated in the military."
His response; "One of my recommendations is from a civilian undergrad professor."
Blammo...accepted into grad school!
His goal...just take it easy and get through
He loved his work but had absolutely no interest
In cracking any books to further his education
He wanted to be around hospitals, patient care
Learning in the 'school of hard knocks,'
Just punch that ticket...Get that degree and move on.
Little did he know that the real 'hard knocks' were right around the corner
MCV turned out to be a good old boy college
Coat and tie to class... always
Southern blue bloods everywhere
One of his classmates was the 11th of his name
He liked to call him "Eleven" just for grins
He quickly found out the program was serious...very serious
The faculty was pretty proud of stating
They had an academic failure rate
And intended to use it when indicated
(And it was for one of his thirty some classmates
A fine gentleman of Armenian descent
Who couldn't (or wouldn't) maintain the required 3.0 GPA
And would be gone after the third term
Their "failed" classmate went on to graduate
From a different university
And became a very successful hospital administrator)
They worked so hard they felt guilty
Whenever they took a Sunday off to relax
He sweated every course, especially those
That included the math he had ducked earlier
Memorization was rampant
Cram it in, spit it back on essay
Don't worry about the short shelf life
There were three major components
Coursework, residency with written "management study"
And a comprehensive oral examination
Fifty-four semester hours packed into two years
They made him take it serious
And somehow he made it through the coursework
Though he was often cowed by the brilliance of some of his classmates
Then he had a good residency and paper
Although his professor/preceptor hated him
The feeling was mutual as the prof's arrogance was palpable
Then came the oral exams
And a pucker factor like no other
You could go for two years...
Make it through everything
And lose it all in one hour-long oral examination
They wanted health care leaders
And you were not going to make it through
If you did not demonstrate it in orals
He thought he was a good leader
Having stepped up on every occasion
Since he was a kid
But who was he to presume
The MCV professors would agree?
Orals were conducted on the top floor
Of one of the hundred-plus year old buildings
Right across the street from their own grad building
It was a warm, humid day...they were in suits of course
The windows in the room were open
Hearing was difficult...complicated by street noise
From Richmond's main drag below
The panel's questions hit him like stones
He couldn't make out some of the words
In response to one, he asked to use the blackboard
To diagram some concept he would later not remember at all
Short shelf life...remember?
There was nothing to drink
He was pretty sure all the southern cotton harvested that year
Was stuffed in his mouth
He had never felt more out of place or less worthy
After...he stumbled out of the building sure he had failed miserably
Back in the grad school building the answer was quick
One of the professor's gave him the news
"You made it."
He was stunned
He did not know why and still doesn't to this day
Maybe it was some enthusiasm he showed as he nervously
Fumbled with the blackboard that day.
He walked the few blocks to Shockhoe Slip
And one of its bars in old Richmond
Where the class often met
He was to meet one of his friends
The only other Air Force student in his class
He stood outside the bar waiting
Feeling more accomplished than
He ever had - reveling in every sight, every smell
And the sound of rain drops hitting his umbrella
Then he looked up as his friend turned the corner
A block away
Their eyes met and his friend shook his head "No"
*****
He would readily confess that all the academic stress
Did not bring out the best in him
He never got over the shock of finding
Such a serious environment
His wife somehow put up with his extremes
Throughout the two years... helping him study
Forgiving his trespasses
Making sure he had nothing but time to focus on making it
It ended up being her Master's degree in Health Care Administration...
Much more than his.
*****
His friend who failed at first attempt? Hung in there through a couple more years of waiting... returning twice in the interim to repeat his orals and, in an amazing feat of persistence finally made it.
