When my teenage son asked if we could go to Guatemala for a medical mission trip, I said yes without hesitation. This would be our second journey together, and I was eager to reinforce the values that have guided my career in medicine: service, compassion, and staying true to the mission of helping others.
I thought I knew what to expect. I’d guide him through the experience, model effective leadership, and watch him grow from the challenges of working in resource-limited conditions. What I didn’t anticipate was how he would challenge my own understanding of what service and leadership should be.
When the Tables Turned
When we first arrived in Guatemala, I had concerns that were predictably parental. How would my son handle sleeping in crowded barracks with twenty other volunteers? Would he adapt to using water bottles to brush his teeth, sharing communal bathrooms, and navigating all the basic inconveniences we take for granted at home?
But he surprised me. After a particularly difficult night in the barracks, I grumbled about the snoring symphony disturbing my sleep. My son gave me a look that stopped me cold – half incredulous, half amused – as if I’d just complained that the Wi-Fi was too slow in the jungle.“Seriously? What’s the big deal? Do you have earplugs?”
That moment crystallized something I hadn’t expected to learn. Our children can be far more resilient than we give them credit for. While I was focused on the discomfort, he was already adapting, finding solutions, and moving forward without dwelling on things he couldn’t control.
Lessons in True Service
The real revelation came during our outreach clinics. We would drive an hour into remote mountain villages, set up temporary medical facilities in churches or schools, and often find 100-200 patients already waiting in line. Everyone on our interdisciplinary team – doctors, nurses, pharmacists, volunteers – wanted to help, and most people naturally gravitated toward tasks that matched their titles or comfort zones. Doctors doctored, nurses nursed, and pharmacists…pharmed.
Not my son. He just asked, “What needs doing?” and did it. Whether it was carrying supplies, helping set up the pharmacy, or checking blood pressure, he threw himself into every aspect of the operation. His willingness to contribute regardless of his experience level or official role was humbling to witness.
One day, when he was assigned to work at our base clinic instead of the outreach site he preferred, I braced for disappointment. Instead, when I asked about his day, his face lit up: “This doctor showed me how to check patients’ ears—it was so cool! And I learned how to check blood glucose levels, too.”
His focus wasn’t on what didn’t go as planned, but on what he had learned. His gratitude for the experience, his flexibility when plans changed, and his genuine excitement about contributing in any way possible reminded me of something I had lost sight of in my own career progression.
The Fire That Burns Out
Here’s what that trip made me realize. My son showed me in real time what healthcare should look like when we’re connected to our deeper purpose. Every volunteer, including doctors, nurses, and pharmacists, had paid their own way, used their vacation time, and chose to serve. Despite seeing 40-50 patients per day in challenging conditions, there was an energy, a joy in the work that I rarely see in our healthcare system back home. In Guatemala, after 50 patients, you feel energized. In the US, after 20, you feel like you need an IV drip of espresso and a vacation in Bali.
This contrast haunts me. Why does treating patients in Guatemala feel so fulfilling, while seeing the same number of patients, or even fewer in the U.S., can feel overwhelming? What happens to that fire – that genuine desire to help – that draws people to healthcare in the first place?
I think the answer lies in what I observed in my son and the other volunteers. They were unburdened by the administrative barriers, bureaucratic constraints, and micromanagement that can gradually extinguish the passion that brought us to medicine. They had autonomy to help however they could, freedom to connect directly with patients, and clarity about their purpose.
Leadership Lessons from a Teenager
My son’s perspective and approach revealed several leadership principles that I’ve carried back into my work at home:
- Remove the pebbles from people’s shoes. Those small administrative annoyances – excessive documentation, burdensome electronic health records, unnecessary bureaucracy – may seem somewhat benign, but they can accumulate quickly into major barriers that prevent healthcare workers from focusing on what they do best: caring for patients. Remove the pebbles from people’s shoes. Because if you don’t, eventually someone throws the whole shoe at you.
- Preserve autonomy within boundaries. Highly trained professionals don’t respond well to micromanagement. While healthcare systems require policies and regulations, effective leaders set clear boundaries while allowing freedom and agency within those limits. Loss of autonomy is one of the biggest drivers of burnout.
- Stay connected to the why. The most effective leaders find ways to keep their teams connected to the fundamental mission of their work. When people remember why they chose healthcare – to help others, to make a difference – the challenges become more bearable.
The Unexpected Teacher
Perhaps the most profound lesson my son taught me was about approaching familiar challenges with fresh eyes. He didn’t carry the weight of professional protocols, career concerns, or institutional constraints. He simply showed up, contributed wherever he could, and found joy in the direct impact he could make.
As leaders, we often think our experience and expertise make us the natural teachers. But sometimes the most valuable lessons come from those who approach our work without our assumptions, limitations, or preconceived notions about how things should be done.
I went to Guatemala thinking I’d be the one teaching leadership. Turns out, my teenage son handed me an education free of charge, no CME credits required. Sometimes the best way to lead is about being willing to ask every day, “What needs to be done?”
