When it comes to the intersection of patient safety, simulation-based education, and human factors, few names resonate as strongly as Jenny Rudolph. No ordinary expert in healthcare simulation, Jenny has not only led how we approach debriefing but also drawn lessons from unexpected places, like high-hazard industries, to foster safer learning environments. When she’s not transforming debriefing practices, you might find her recharging with a detective novel set in the Alaskan wilderness or testing her limits on a rock face. In this exclusive SIM Face interview, we dive into the experiences, insights, and passions that drive Jenny’s groundbreaking work.
Jenny Rudolph
Jenny Rudolph, PhD, is an organizational behavior expert and Senior Director of Innovation of the Center for Medical Simulation in Boston. She advances patient safety by integrating experiential learning, team performance, and insights from organizational behavior.
Welcome to SIM Face, where we spotlight the people driving the simulation transition and shaping a culture of patient safety. Through their stories and insights, we aim to inspire and connect professionals in the field. So, it is with real pleasure that we welcome you to this “special” space. Jenny, your journey into medical simulation started from a very different domain. What sparked this transition, and how has your organizational behavior expertise shaped your approach to healthcare simulation?
It started with rowing, actually. My journey into healthcare simulation wasn’t a straight line —more like one of those wobbly paths I took as a sculler so focused on my stroke I didn’t notice I’ve veered off course. As a member of the U.S. rowing team, I spent hours in those torturous elongated swimming pool-like rowing tanks that simulate a rowing shell. Then… hours reviewing video footage of my less-than-perfect form. Hoping to row better — and maybe stop grimacing in every frame — I took up meditating. That mindfulness habit hooked me.As a doctoral student, mindfulness led me to industrial safety. I became fascinated by how nuclear power plant operators made and learned from mistakes: minor details like forgetting to update the coolant level read-out of the reactor. Then I stumbled on healthcare simulation: a field where practice, reflection, and error meet to build mastery. For a lifelong learner like me, it was like somebody said I could play for work, with do-overs built in.
“There’s no such thing as nonjudgmental debriefing”. This statement became a game-changer for the field. Can you share the story behind this influential publication and its ripple effect on debriefing practices worldwide?
“There’s no such thing as nonjudgmental debriefing.” It sounds kind of bold, right? Honestly, it started with me just trying to figure out how to tell people what I really thought—without, you know, ruining the relationship. A professor in my doctoral program once quipped, “Jenny, you have a knack for getting in people’s faces, but with grace.” Grace in your face? I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment or a warning, but it stuck.I’d soaked up the ideas of my advisor, Bill Torbert, who relentlessly encouraged me to “walk my talk,” and his advisor, Chris Argyris, who studied the chasm between what we say we do and what we actually do. When CMS tasked me with codifying debriefing for our new instructor course, I uncomfortably noticed we were all a bit hypocritical: claiming openness but hiding our judgments behind polite questions. I think “Debriefing with Good Judgment” got traction because it helps untangle this mess, giving us permission to share our views — curiously and compassionately — without derailing relationships.
From aviation to nuclear power, you’ve studied safety cultures in high-risk settings. What invaluable lessons have you applied to healthcare simulation, particularly in reducing errors?
The biggest lesson I’ve learned from studying safety in nuclear power, chemical processing, and operating rooms is this:
error is inevitable. It’s not a character flaw; it’s statistically normal.
That doesn’t mean we shrug and move on. It means approaching mistakes with curiosity, compassion, and high standards for learning. Sounds noble, right? Except I, like most people, hate making mistakes. The shame can flood my brain, leaving me desperate to hide somewhere, or at least skip the debrief.
But here’s the thing: the most effective organizations I studied didn’t shame people for errors. They leaned in with respect and curiosity, recognizing that systems—not just individuals—play a role in mistakes. The second big insight? Context matters. Incentives matter. What’s considered “normal” matters. My colleagues Mary Fey and Kate Morse have taught me we need to ditch the “mean girls club” approach to teaching. If learners stumble after we’ve taught them something, the real question isn’t “What’s wrong with them?” but “What’s my role in how they learned this?” Learning from error isn’t about perfection, it’s about reflection. And sometimes, that reflection is on us.
In addition to rowing, I read that climbing is also part of his personal life. These are high-pressure and team-based sports. How have they influenced your views on teamwork, communication, and leadership in healthcare simulation?
Hmmm. Fear is what comes to mind. Rock climbing taught me that fear is like a guard dog: helpful when it alerts you to danger but a menace when it starts barking during delicate moments. So how to manage our normal fear reactions? Rock climbing works because of the belay: a system that protects me if I slip. Well-designed simulations are like a belay: they let teams operate at the edge of their expertise, learning without fear of disastrous consequences.Rowing, on the other hand, showed me the elusive magic of teamwork. When a crew finds its “swing,” it’s that rare moment when every movement aligns, the boat gliding like a dream. As Betsy Hunt says, “good resuscitation teams have exquisite choreography.” And as the book The Boys in the Boat shows, it’s also about relationships. Our job, as Eve Purdy, and Vic Brazil emphasize, is to create practice arenas where we build trust and connection that can spill over into real life.
Debriefing often requires managing both emotional reactions and cognitive processing. What strategies do you use or recommend to strike the right balance?
In Descartes’ Error, Antonio Damasio describes emotions as our compass, guiding our thinking. I cling to that metaphor when mine seem more like a compass spinning wildly during a debriefing! I think I was drawn to this work because I wanted to understand how to manage the challenging interplay of emotions and cognition: strong emotional reactions can really derail my thinking.
Lately, I’ve been using the metaphor of “first aid.” When emotions run high, step one is stabilizing myself internally, much like a clinician stabilizes a patient. If the group dynamic starts to fracture, I focus first on my own fear or frustration, “down-regulating” my emotions before turning outward to address the group. Then I work to stabilize the team: naming the “heat” in the room, normalizing it as part of caring deeply, and navigating toward a shared exploration.
Linking my emotions and cognition is the edge of my expertise. When I get it right, it’s magic. When I don’t… let’s just say, I lose my sense of direction.
Reflecting on your experiences, what are some mistakes you’ve personally made during debriefing sessions? How did those experiences shape your approach, and what advice would you give to others to avoid similar missteps?
Oh, the mistakes I’ve made in debriefing…where to begin? Let’s focus on one big category: how my fear of being “rude” to one person has sometimes torpedoed learning for everyone else. Early on, I ran a faculty teamwork course where a senior colleague, Dr. X, monopolized 60% of the airtime. He was brilliant, yes, but that left 40% for the other four participants. Afterward, one learner pulled me aside and said, «Dr. X’s talking meant I learned less. I wanted to hear from others, and from you». Ouch!
I hadn’t intervened because I didn’t want to seem impolite, but that taught me an important lesson: my job is to be an ally to all the learners, not just the loudest one. Now, I remind myself: polite doesn’t mean passive. Redirecting airtime is a kindness, not a crime, and it’s crucial for fostering equity in learning.
When you’re not pioneering debriefing techniques, how do you recharge and find inspiration outside of work?
I recharge in three ways—and no, none involve meditating on a mountaintop (although that does sound tempting). First, I’m a sucker for detective fiction, especially when it’s set outdoors, Alaska, Wyoming, the Alps, deep sea diving. The predictable structure with unpredictable twists and turns help me unwind. I like relying on a clever sleuth navigating forests, fjords, or frozen tundras while I listen (audio books!) from my cozy living room.
Second, I’ve realized I need time alone. This came as a shock when the Myers-Briggs test told me I’m smack in the middle of extrovert and introvert territory. I thought I was a full-on extrovert! But it explained why solo hikes, yoga, or cooking step-by-step are my great rechargers.
Third, there’s my friends and family: they also sometimes double as my new conversation skills training partners. I can’t resist trying out new ideas or techniques in conversations and seeing if they work. It’s basically A/B testing for human connection, and I can rely on them to call me on it if it is not working!
What do you envision for the next decade of debriefing practices? Any technological innovations or cultural shifts on the horizon?
When I think about the next decade of debriefing, I get excited about combining technology and staged learning. My colleague Chris Roussin — fellow athlete and learning nerd — has inspired me to think about staged learning like SimZones, where people build skills progressively. Now, imagine layering in generative Artificial Intelligence (AI): batting practice for conversations.
Whether it’s debriefing, giving feedback, discussing goals of care, or navigating tough topics like end-of-life decisions or consent, AI is already helping us simulate these interactions, offer feedback, and even throw curveballs to keep us on our toes. The goal? To make practicing these conversations as engaging as it is instructive, more like a game and less like a chore.
Of course, there’s much more we could do, but this feels like the sweet spot right now: making the messy, nuanced work of communication easier to practice, less intimidating, and even fun.
We normally close this type of interview with an off-the-cuff and provocative question. And so, simulation educators often preach the importance of vulnerability and self-awareness. What’s a blind spot or area of growth you’ve struggled to confront in your own practice, and how are you working on it?
Wow, where do I start? Consistently walking my talk when the stakes are high, that’s my Everest. My kids, for one, could give you a running list of my failures in this department. It’s humbling for sure.
I’ve already admitted to being a hypocrite: the “with good judgment” approach to debriefing was born from noticing that my colleagues and I were preaching openness about error while practicing “hidden judgment” in our debriefings. But here’s the twist: owning my hypocritical self, as Bob Quinn calls it, has become a cornerstone of my growth. My colleague Janice Palaganas has been an amazing accountability buddy for this.
The real challenge? Resetting myself in the heat of the moment: when I feel judged, threatened, or just plain wrong. It’s easy when there’s structure. It’s much harder when fear or anger creeps in. Staying curious in those moments is my work in progress.
Thank you for taking us behind the scenes of your journey and sharing such thoughtful insights. Your passion for advancing simulation and fostering safer learning environments is truly inspiring. We look forward to seeing how your work continues to advance simulation and foster safer learning environments.
Stay tuned for more stories from the trailblazers of simulation in our next SIM Face interviews
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