Recently, I read the book The Road to Character by David Brooks. Mr. Brooks is an opinion columnist and contributor to PBS NewsHour. In a New York Times essay reflecting on the book, he wrote:
“It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love? We all know that the eulogy virtues are more important than the résumé ones. But our culture and our educational systems spend more time teaching the skills and strategies you need for career success than the qualities you need to radiate that sort of inner light. Many of us are clearer on how to build an external career than on how to build inner character.”
Composing a résumé may have become the great American performance art. Many are bloated with adjectives and carefully engineered to impress rather than reveal. Take the scandal of George Santos. The now-disgraced New York congressman lied his way into public office, padding his résumé with fictions, including a degree from New York University that he never earned. That’s the power and the danger of résumé culture. When credentials are valued more than character, the temptation to pad accomplishments becomes irresistible. Nurses, nursing students, and faculty are not immune to this.
Is this really you?
In reflecting on the distinction between résumé virtues and eulogy virtues, I’m reminded of the countless student résumés I’ve edited in my role as faculty. For years, I’ve conducted what I call a “Résumé Clinic,” an interactive workshop where students receive one-on-one feedback on how to craft a strong nursing résumé. Most students struggle with the basic structure of the document, and I frequently see résumés that begin with a “Profile” or “Professional Summary” section. These multi-sentence statements typically overflow with generic, self-congratulatory vague adjectives such as “hardworking” and “dedicated.” Such embellishments may appear to tick the boxes of professional convention, but they tell us nothing about whether the writer is truly compassionate, ethical, or trustworthy—the very qualities that are indispensable in the care of patients and families. Incidentally, one of my first suggestions in editing résumés is to delete or skip the profile as it adds no value.
Patients don’t care how many committees a nurse served on, or how many times the word “leadership” appears in a résumé. What matters is whether that nurse shows up with compassion, honesty, and the courage to do the right thing, every time. One can’t bullet-point kindness or fake your way into integrity. However, I see many students and faculty caught in the trap of thinking otherwise, of believing that if they just sprinkle enough power words into their résumés, they’ll prove themselves worthy.
“You’re awesome” and other lies
Part of the problem begins long before students ever sit down to draft a résumé. We live in a culture of overpraise, where children and college students are routinely rewarded for participation, applauded for minimal effort, and assured that every small accomplishment is “excellent.” The unintended consequence is a generation conditioned to equate self-promotion with self-worth. It’s no wonder their résumés balloon with hollow claims—they’ve been taught to value recognition more than reflection. As educators, especially in nursing, we must push back against this tide. Character can’t be cultivated through gold stars and flattering feedback alone; it requires honest critique, opportunities to wrestle with failure, and a pedagogy that prizes humility, empathy, and moral courage as much as technical competence. To prepare nurses who embody eulogy virtues, we must create learning environments that hold students accountable not only for what they know, but for who they’re becoming.
A tough act to follow
A résumé, by its very design, flattens a person into accomplishments and affiliations; it can’t reveal the moral fiber that makes for truly excellent nurses. But here’s the paradox: Writing a résumé can itself be a moral exercise. To craft one honestly, without fluff or exaggeration, requires humility and clarity. To resist the cultural pressure to inflate is to practice a small but real act of virtue. In this sense, the résumé becomes not only a professional artifact but also a mirror of personal integrity.
Nursing faculty bear responsibility for guiding students beyond the mechanical accumulation of résumé virtues. They also must cultivate in them the eulogy virtues—the courage to advocate for the vulnerable, the compassion to comfort the suffering, the honesty to admit error, and the humility to keep learning. Our curricula, our mentorship, and even the small corrections we make on student résumés should remind them that a nursing career isn’t merely about marketability but also about moral formation. Employers must read résumés with more skepticism and evaluate candidates less by the gloss of the grade point average and more by the evidence of their integrity.
Résumé virtues may get nursing students hired. Eulogy virtues will determine how they’re remembered. And students must be reminded, again and again, that a résumé will only open the door. Eulogy virtues are what fill the rooms with light.
Fidelindo Lim, DNP, CCRN, FAAN is a Clinical Associate Professor at New York University Meyers College of Nursing.
