Reflection - The Bueller Method

Reflection gets a bad rap. People think it’s difficult or tedious — it’s not. You just need a method that doesn’t make you want to eat glass.

My first breakthrough came during a diploma course where they told us: find a model and jog on. I didn’t think much of it. Scribbled down Gibbs’ model, picked a trainwreck situation, and word-vomited my feelings onto paper. They promptly tore it apart. That mess later evolved into my reflective rhyme (with references, no less).

Key lesson? There’s a huge difference between descriptive and reflective writing. It’s not just how you felt at the time — it’s why you felt that way, how you’ve changed, how others reacted, and what you learned. Reflection isn’t therapy; it’s pattern recognition — a metacognitive process that allows self-regulation and promotes lifelong learning.

I was born in 1988 — the year of Die Hard, Good Morning Vietnam, Rain Man, Big, Willow, and Beetlejuice. Solid year for movies.

But honestly? I’ve always been jealous of the Year my Wife and Sister (not the same person) were born - 1986

Labyrinth, Highlander, Aliens, Crocodile Dundee, Big Trouble in Little China — and most importantly — Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

John Hughes wrote Ferris in a week, spiral notebook in hand. It’s the rogue’s manual for life: always one step ahead, never quite “proper,” but somehow still pulling it off with charm and mischief. Ferris found the joy — with a level of preparation and flair that would get you through even a Foundation Year handover.

(Side note: Ferris would absolutely have faced the GMC eventually. That creepy “Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” bit? Yeah. Hasn’t aged well — neither has the head-teacher. Why did I pick this film again?)

Anyway — underneath the glorious Chicago tourism ad, the film’s packed with nuggets of wisdom you can slap onto almost anything — even medical practice. So here’s my medical career, reflected through the chaotic genius of Ferris Bueller:

-Isms in my opinion are not good. A person should not believe in an -ism, he should believe in himself.

You’ll encounter a thousand “-isms” in medicine: authoritarianism, paternalism, sexism, racism, ageism. Common theme? Conflict and oppression. How you respond reflects who you are — but crucially, as a doctor, you’ve also got a patient to consider.

I didn’t come from a particularly emotionally intelligent background. Had to learn emotional regulation the old-fashioned way: slowly, painfully, sometimes with beer. When people get a bee in their bonnet about my personality, sure — I could say “so what?” Or I can shove it in a development plan, reflect, and weaponise it for growth.

Professionalism isn’t about being perfect. It’s about knowing how to grow, even when the growth feels like being emotionally exfoliated with sandpaper. Reflective writing provides opportunities for health professionals to learn from their mistakes, successes, anxieties, and worries that otherwise would remain disjointed and worthless like a metaphor without an imaginative… but.

You can’t respect somebody who kisses your ass. It just doesn’t work.

Want someone to take you seriously at work? Don’t try too hard. Earn respect. Then stop chasing it.

Medicine’s pseudo-hierarchical. Power shifts depending where you sit in the food chain — but there’s an acid test: If you ever ask, “Is there anything else to do, or can I go?” and it’s not at handover — congrats, you’re plankton.

But here’s the thing: enthusiasm, prep, and effort outpay being fast, witty, or showing off.

A doctor with an empty brain is a liability. A doctor busting their arse trying to fill it is pure gold.

Look, don’t make me participate in your stupid crap if you don’t like the way I do it.

We all get roped into jobs that clash with our internal settings — maybe even our moral compass. You can’t control everything you’re asked to do. You can control how you handle it.

I’m not suggesting a full “Ferris Bueller school skip” when asked to cannulate an unwilling OAP, but if something feels off — ask questions. Speak up. If you need help, say so.

That’s professionalism. Not weakness. And definitely not cause for an angry consultant passive-aggressive comment on your ePortfolio.

But it also requires us to challenge toxic practices when we see them, rather than perpetuating the “that’s just how things are” mentality.

Wake up and smell the coffee, Mrs. Bueller. It’s a fool’s paradise.

Thought medicine would be like Scrubs or Grey’s Anatomy? Sexy people shouting “Clear!” and saving lives dramatically? Bless you.

Reality’s full of frustrations, political mitigation, and enough paperwork to choke a horse. Time and motion studies indicate that 50% of the physician workday is now spent on administrative work and “desktop medicine” or “dogshit jobs”

Get stuck in early. Immerse yourself in teams during med school. Get elbow-deep in the crap jobs. You can’t swim if you only paddle the shallow end. Eventually you’ll need to doggy-paddle through the bureaucratic shitstorm like everyone else.

Better to start practicing early than get blindsided later.

Only the meek get pinched. The bold survive

Medicine is competitive. The job market is still tight enough to make a fat man in skinny jeans look roomy.

Sharpen your elbows. Push through the hard bits. Loving what you do makes that easier — and landing the role you fought for will feel like winning your own personal Ferris vs Principal Rooney battle royale.

But here’s where Ferris gets it wrong: boldness without reflection is just recklessness. You need to learn how to chew through the problem, rather than. Smash straight into it like a Shitzu and a very clean Patio door. That’s how you survive long-term, not just in the short sprint.

You’re not dying; you just can’t think of anything good to do

Spend enough time in hospitals and you’ll learn two deeply concerning truths:

• Cautery smells amazing when you’re starving

• Everyone wearing a bum-bag is a liability

• Everybody dies, no matter how hard you try

Gallows humour keeps you afloat. But be careful. If you let it harden you, you risk becoming detached, autocratic, clumsy, and exactly the sort of miserable fuck you hated as a student.

Success isn’t just about survival rates. It’s about compassion, honesty, integrity, and showing up human when it matters.

The irony is that reflective writing can help you keep your empathy rather than wallow in it till it falls off like a cauterised wart.

It’s exactly what we need to stay human in an increasingly dehumanizing system.

TL:DR - Reflection isn't that Hard

Here’s what the research tells us that we correctly, through Ferris, intuited:

• Reflection is more than thinking back, it’s about chewing through it to plan for the future you

• Reflecting back helps you recall times you nailed it or didn’t - and to know why if it comes up again

• Being reflective makes the chunky, unwieldy shit you have to get through more clear, contextual, and above all learnable.

In other words, reflection makes you a better doctor. Who’d have thought?

Final Thoughts

Yeah, this is all a bit contrived. I wanted to quote Ferris Bueller, and I did. Go me.

But the point still stands: reflection isn’t about box-ticking. It’s about stopping, paying attention, challenging your reactions, and figuring out how to do it better next time, but only when they’re done with genuine intent rather than bureaucratic compliance.

In a profession where more than half of US physicians are experiencing substantial symptoms of burnout, maybe it’s time we took Ferris’s advice seriously. Not the truancy bit — the reflection bit.

Or, as Ferris himself puts it:

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

In medicine, if you don’t stop and reflect once in a while, you could miss more than just life — you could miss the point entirely.

Stay reflective

— DW