David Marcovitz

David Marcovitz '06

Medical Service Assistant, Christ House Recovery Shelter

The Present

 
The pediatrician's eyes lit up.  "Russian literature…that happens to be an interest of mine.   The last student I interviewed was studying biology, researching viral infections in yellow squash.   As it turns out, we didn't have a whole lot to talk about.   But the works of Tolstoy, Dostoevsky…that's something else altogether..."  We talked for over an hour, and by the end, my med school interviewer was writing down the names of various Russian authors and announcing his plans to head for the bookstore.

Since I returned in June from a yearlong trip to Russia, I have been working at a medical shelter for the homeless in Washington, DC, and interviewing for medical school.   I find a great deal of meaning in my work right now (www.christhouse.org), and I can think of no better environment to be working in, especially for someone interested in becoming a doctor.  As for the medical school interviews, I come prepared to discuss healthcare reform and recent advances in medicine, but time and again the conversation turns to Slavic.   My choice of major has been an unexpected asset throughout this process.

The Past

When I began taking introductory Russian as a freshman, a major in Slavic was barely on the radar for me.   It never occurred to me that a small department might offer the best preparation for a wide variety of potential careers.   But after two fully-funded trips to St. Petersburg and a feeling that many of the Slavic professors cared a great deal about my work and ideas, joining such a small department struck me as a risk worth taking.   The payoff has been enormous.

During my junior and senior year, Russian language and literature were a source of intellectual discovery, stimulating parts of my mind that the hard sciences could not.   At the same time, my independent research on writers like Chekhov and Bulgakov, both practicing doctors when they began their writing careers, reaffirmed my conviction that the study of literature and medicine makes for a rewarding combination.    Interestingly, both fields rely on one's ability to ask the right questions, a noteworthy strength of Anton Chekhov.

My senior year I studied Soviet literature and history, but there was still time to finish the premed requirements (including the much lamented organic chemistry classes).   I wrote my thesis on Soviet Censorship and its effect on the publication of Bulgakov's famous novel, The Master and Margarita.  In May I learned that my proposal to work at an AIDS Clinic in the small Russian city of Pskov would be funded by the Fulbright Program.   Though the grant to Russia had a profound impact on my life, I never would have even applied for it had a Slavic professor, Michael Wachtel, not suggested it to me.   In a small department, the faculty can really look out for their students, an advantage that should not be understated.      

The Future

My plan is to start medical school in the fall of 2008, though I'm not sure what type of physician I want to be.   I do know I will take with me a special knowledge of Russian literature, from Pushkin's mastery of language to Bulgakov's intellectual honesty in the face of government oppression.   But most important of all, I owe my ability it to write clearly, read critically, and engage others – skills I expect to rely upon daily as a medical student and physician – in no small part to my experience as a Slavic major at Princeton.

Read about David Marcovitz and the Fulbright Program in Russia.

Read about David Marcovitz in Russia's media.