I’m Glad I Failed the MCAT

Dear Fancy Collective, 

For those who may not know, the MCAT, the Medical College Admission Test, is the exam every aspiring physician must take before applying to medical school. When I took it, it was only offered twice a year. Two chances to prove yourself, two moments that felt like they could determine your entire future. I took my first exam right after graduating with my biology degree, confident that four years of coursework would carry me. I didn’t study for the test; I studied for the degree. And those are not the same thing.

I walked into that testing center believing I was ready. Then in the middle of the exam, the fire alarm went off. All of us were ushered outside into the heat, standing there for what felt like hours. My focus shattered. My confidence slipped away. I finished the test, but I knew the score wouldn’t reflect my potential.

When the results came back, I was right. 

I didn’t get the score I needed. I didn’t get the score I wanted. I didn’t get the score I believed I deserved.

So, I did what so many determined, first-gen, purpose-driven students do: I signed up to take it again. The only available seat was in Corpus Christi, Texas. I booked a flight, reserved a room at the Red Inn, and told myself this was my redemption story.

I didn’t have a car, so on the morning of the exam, I walked. Through a neighborhood I didn’t know. Past people unfamiliar to me. Carrying fear in one hand and determination in the other.

I called my dad as I walked, partly because I was nervous about the test, partly because I was scared of the environment around me, and partly because I needed to hear a voice that reminded me who I was.

I took the exam. I flew home. And I just knew that if God had allowed me to go through all of that, He would deliver on His promise. He would see to it that I made it into medical school.

But I didn’t do well. Not again. Not even close.

When I saw that second score, something in me broke. I threw things in my room. I yelled at God. I cried until my knees hit the floor. I felt embarrassed, angry, confused, and betrayed by the very dream I had been chasing since childhood.

But here’s the part I couldn’t see then. The part mentorship taught me to understand.

Failure is not the opposite of purpose. It’s often the confirmation of it.

That season shaped me into the mentor I am now.

It taught me humility. The kind that keeps you grounded. It taught me discipline. The kind that builds character, not just credentials. It taught me resilience. The kind that doesn’t crumble under pressure. It taught me empathy. The kind that allows you to sit with someone else’s fear without judgment.

Most importantly, it taught me that the students I would one day mentor didn’t need a perfect doctor. They needed a human one.

Someone who knew what it felt like to fall short. Someone who understood disappointment. Someone who had been heartbroken by the journey. Someone who could say, “I’ve been there, and you can still make it.”

Failing the MCAT didn’t disqualify me. It prepared me. It softened me. It made me a better physician, a better teacher, and a better mentor.

So if you’re reading this and you’re in your own season of setback, hear me clearly:

Your failure is not final. Your detour is not denial. Your story is still unfolding.

Signed, 

Your favorite doctor’s favorite doctor – Dr. Fancy