Who Will Teach Them? The reality (#554)
- Rick LeCouteur
- Feb 26
- 4 min read
After more than forty years in veterinary medicine, I have learned something simple.
Buildings don’t teach.
Technology doesn’t teach.
Curriculum documents don’t teach.
People teach.
The recent discussion around veterinary school expansion has generated a remarkable range of thoughtful responses. Some focused on general practitioners. Others on specialists. Some on externships. Some on diversity. Some on AI. Some on faculty pay. Some on day-one competence.
If we step back, however, the debate is not fractured.
It is converging.
The convergence point is this:
Who, exactly, will teach them?
And, what are we asking those teachers to prepare students for?
This Is Not a GP vs Specialist Debate
A false narrative quickly emerges in conversations like this:
Generalists versus specialists.
It is a distraction.
Neurologists “neurolocalize” by examination alone. No MRI can replace that cognitive act.
Equine surgeons teach diagnostic frameworks through repetition and rigor.
Experienced GPs teach pragmatism, communication, and welfare-aligned care within financial realities.
The quality of an educator is not determined by postgraduate letters.
Clinical excellence does not automatically translate into teaching excellence, but neither does the absence of specialization guarantee practical wisdom.
The real question is not who is better.
The real question is:
What is the mission of veterinary school?
Are we training veterinary tacticians for day-one competence?
Or clinician-scientists who will push the boundaries of medicine?
The honest answer lies somewhere in between.
Students must dive deep during veterinary school. Breadth and depth matter.
Nuance develops in practice, but intellectual scaffolding must begin in school.
The inverse, hoping depth develops after graduation without structured immersion, is a fragile strategy at best.
Day-One Competence Is Not Simple
Most graduates will enter general practice.
General practice is by no means the easy path. It is cognitively demanding, ethically complex, emotionally heavy, and economically constrained.
Several important themes emerged in discussion:
Over-reliance on diagnostics without thorough examination.
Gold standard recommendations that fail to meet client realities.
The need to teach spectrum-of-care medicine.
The importance of welfare-focused pragmatism.
Communication skills that allow clients to participate meaningfully in decisions.
Students need structured repetition:
Five lameness exams in a row.
Several colics in a week.
Repeated parasite workups.
Vomiting dogs at 2 a.m.
They need to see common diseases again and again.
Pattern recognition is not theoretical. It is built through exposure.
But exposure without guidance is not education.
That requires teachers.
Teaching Is a Discipline
One theme surfaced repeatedly:
Clinical expertise is not synonymous with educational expertise.
We need:
More experienced GPs involved in teaching.
Specialists who can model deep, logical reasoning.
Faculty trained in how to teach.
Investment in educational development.
Compensation structures that make academic careers viable.
Students want to see patients while being observed.
They want feedback.
They want correction.
They want inspiration.
Generalist or specialist, you begin with teacher.
And teaching requires intention.
The Distributed Model Problem
A practical question remains largely unanswered.
Where will the students extern?
Distributed clinical models rely on real practices holding open real dates for potential students.
With three schools competing for placements, the system strains.
With six or twelve, it risks fracture.
Externships are not abstractions.
They are calendars, staff capacity, exam rooms, and human bandwidth.
If we expand student numbers without expanding trained mentors and clinical sites, we create scarcity, and scarcity erodes quality.
Technology can assist.
AI can enhance access to information.
Simulation can build early competence.
But repetition in live cases, under supervision, remains irreplaceable.
People teach.
Representation Matters
Another crucial issue emerged. One that is often overshadowed by structural debate.
Veterinary educational spaces frequently do not reflect the communities we serve.
If our faculties are overwhelmingly homogenous - culturally, economically, experientially - then we narrow the lens through which veterinary medicine is taught.
Clients are diverse.Communities are diverse.
Animal ownership patterns are diverse.
Economic realities are diverse.
If students are trained in environments that do not mirror that complexity, they graduate less prepared to navigate it.
Diversity is not optics. It is educational infrastructure.
A profession that does not invest in building a faculty reflective of its communities, risks becoming disconnected from them.
A Layered Future
Perhaps the conversation is pointing us toward something more sophisticated than a binary choice.
Imagine a layered system:
A core curriculum grounded firmly in day-one competence.
Structured repetition of common disease presentations.
Faculty that includes experienced GPs and specialists working collaboratively.
Formal teacher training embedded into faculty development.
A mentored transitional year in practice. (My best suggestion)
Followed by optional specialty immersion.
Distributed placements that are funded, coordinated, and sustainable.
Compensation structures that narrow the widening gap between academia and private practice.
None of this is inexpensive.
But neither is mediocrity.
The Shared Concern Beneath the Debate
What I heard across all perspectives was not territorialism.
It was stewardship.
Love of the physical examination.
Love of logical diagnostic reasoning.
Love of ambulatory teaching in the snow.
Love of parasitology that actually prepared students for practice.
Love of neurolocalization.
Love of welfare-focused medicine.
Love of mentorship.
This is not about prestige.
It is about responsibility.
Veterinary medicine is expanding.
More schools, more students, more models, more technology.
But expansion without intentional investment in people creates hollow institutions.
You can build beautiful facilities.
You can deploy cutting-edge software.
You can distribute students across networks.
But without enough trained, supported, diverse, committed educators, the system thins.
And when it thins, the profession feels it a decade later.
The Reality
The reality is this:
We are not facing a shortage of buildings.
We are not facing a shortage of ambition.
We are not facing a shortage of applicants.
We are facing a shortage of supported teachers, diverse teachers, well-compensated teachers, trained teachers.
And until we confront that directly, expansion risks becoming dilution.
Buildings don’t teach.
People teach.
The question is not whether we will train more veterinarians.
The question is whether we will invest deeply enough in the people who will shape them.
Who will teach them?
The answer will determine what veterinary medicine becomes.
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