Mentorship.
It’s a frequently used word, but often isn’t defined for both students, new grads, and even mentors themselves. How does one build a successful mentorship system that nurtures and grows new veterinarians to be knowledgeable, confident, and successful in their short and long term careers? In veterinary medicine, mentorship is perceived as invaluable. It’s the steady hand over yours during your first spay, the thoughtful debrief after a difficult euthanasia, and the seasoned voice helping you navigate the gray areas of practice. But as vital as mentorship is, there are some lessons that only emerge when you’re the one holding the scalpel, making the call, and facing the consequences.
This article explores the irreplaceable value of hands-on experience—what it teaches, when it kicks in, and why it’s essential for growth as a veterinary professional.
The Limits of Observation
Observing a seasoned vet manage a GDV is fascinating. You might take notes, ask great questions, and even assist with IV placement. But it’s not until you are the one in control that you truly learn how to navigate a case. Do you believe in yourself to identify the “smurf hat” on your own? When the stomach tube does not pass quite as smoothly as you assumed it would, what is your next step? When do you decide the patient is stable enough to cut? The act of navigating these decisions as the leader, rather than assisting or supporting an expert is the rule moment that the knowledge becomes real.
Clinical medicine is as much about judgment under pressure as it is about textbook knowledge. And that judgment is forged in the doing.
Experience Teaches the Feel
Some aspects of practice can’t be taught—they must be felt. The subtle shift in an abdomen that tells you you’re not in the linea like you thought you were. The body language of a client who’s not hearing your medical advice. The fine line between a routine dental and the start of a cascade of complications.
These moments don’t always come with clear “right” answers. They rely on intuition that builds with time, mistakes, and reflection. No mentor can download those instincts into you. You earn them through experience. Experience is rewarding, exciting, and at times stressful, but it is absolutely essential to developing clinical confidence.
When Mentorship Ends, Accountability Begins
There’s a moment when mentorship fades and full autonomy begins. It might be your first solo overnight shift, your first relief gig, or your first day as the medical director. It’s exhilarating—and terrifying.
That’s when you find out what you actually know, where your confidence cracks, and what your default habits are when no one’s watching. It’s also when you begin to form your professional identity—not as a reflection of your mentor, but as your own voice in the medical conversation. And as someone who distinctly remembers my first overnights, the sunrise after making it through on your own two feet is a one of a kind feeling, that will leave you tired but oh so proud of all you have grown to be.
Mistakes Should Be Avoided, But Also Carry The Strongest Lessons.
This may feel controversial but here it is.
Learning from experience doesn’t happen automatically. The toughest cases tend to have the highest learnings. It requires time to reflect—on what went well, what could’ve gone better, and what you want to do differently next time. Strong mentors guide you away from the big pitfalls, the big mistakes and risky decisions. However, it isn’t in your best interest to have a completely foolproof, 100% mentorship program either. If you never have the opportunity to fail, you have to question if you really have the opportunity to succeed either. The deepest learnings come from the toughest cases, and they are often messy, and at times don’t have positive outcomes.
Blending the Two
This isn’t a case against mentorship—it’s a call to balance. Seek great mentors, ask hard questions, and soak up all you can. But don’t mistake guided practice for mastery. True growth happens in the crucible of direct responsibility, where no one else can step in. If you truly want to soar in your skillset and be all that you can be (and more), you have to be willing to take the leap into owning your outcomes.
If you’re early in your career, embrace the discomfort of experience. It does get easier I promise, but that discomfort is the heartbeat of your development. If you’re more seasoned, remember that the best mentors don’t try to shield others from hard lessons—they make space for them.
Final Thoughts
In veterinary medicine, we need both mentorship and experience. One provides the guardrails; the other, the grit. And often, the most lasting lessons are learned not when someone tells us what to do—but when we step into the unknown and do it ourselves.