This is a blog to describe, precisely, how the time since my graduation from the University of Idaho has gone. What I’ve done with it, and what the results have been of my many ventures. I’m writing this mostly for any undergraduate student who isn’t sure if they’re ready for law school, or anyone who doesn’t understand law school beyond pop culture. It’s for 1L’s who are stressed out about whether or not they’re following the right guidelines, whether it’s ok to think outside the box. Whether they’re devoting enough time to their careers, taking all the opportunities they should be taking, overlooking something, or generally in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is for anyone who is unsure of themselves. I did this law school thing in a totally unorthodox way. And so far, it’s worked out fine.
The summer after I graduated from the University of Idaho, I moved to Yellowstone for the summer. I turned 22. I got engaged. I worked until July and moved to Davis, California in early August. I started law school a couple of weeks later. I had never been to Davis, and I had hardly been to California. I signed a lease site unseen, faxing it from my office in Yellowstone several days late because of storms and power outages.
I didn’t know what a case book was. An outline. I didn’t know anything about the law. I honestly didn’t even know what DA’s and PD’s were. Nothing. Truly nothing. The order of Plaintiff and Defendant in a case title. I knew absolutely nothing. That’s the God’s honest truth.
I had taken the LSAT on a whim, deciding that it might be a viable option when I chose to change my previous career trajectory of piano performance/professor. I realized that I didn’t like to teach music, that I wasn’t a good teacher. I knew that I didn’t want to be a performer because the money is unstable, and so am I. I didn’t think I was compatible, as a person, with the careers open to me. It took every fiber of self-confidence and self-trust I had in me to drop my piano performance major. I still have moments of doubt, but no regrets.
In my first year of law school, I lived alone. My fiancé was still living in Idaho, working on his bachelors. Finances were terrible because I lived in a one-bedroom with only my own financial aid to rely on for rent, which was three times what I had paid for the same size and type of apartment in Idaho. I couldn’t get a roommate or live in a two-bedroom because Rob would be moving up mid-year. Two days before my first final, my grandfather died. I took all of my finals regardless.
I know it’s harsh, but I recommend this. While my grades were bad (more on that later), they weren’t necessarily bad because of my grandfather’s death. And to put off my finals until after his funeral would have doubled my workload in my second semester. If you can make it through, it’s worth powering on, even in the face of family emergencies and tragedies. Tough love, but believe me, it’s love all the same.
The following spring, Rob moved down to Davis, after graduating from college. I finished out my first year, and moved back to Yellowstone for the summer. I worked there as a housekeeping manager and in my fraction of spare time I was a research assistant for Dean Johnson. I didn’t try to get a legal job because from what I was told, and from the level of intimidation I received from other students, I was convinced my grades weren’t good enough to try. I was defeated before I even gave it a passing thought. I went home in August and started school up again, this time my second year, after a serious amount of deliberation. I was almost certain I should quit.
Above the Law told me I should quit. The academic success counselor told me I needed to take remedial type classes. I personally felt as though I’d been railroaded – my LSAT scores and grades were on the higher end, and yet I was allowed to come in with no knowledge about the law whatsoever. The other students, it seemed to me, had at least some conception of the system, of how things worked. I had no idea what I was doing, to the extent that I didn’t even know the apparently implied principle that you must understand how to read cases.
I had never – I repeat, NEVER – read a case before I started law school.
My grades were bad (passing, but bad), I didn’t like law school, the students, from what I could tell, didn’t like me, the town was scary (crime here is about twice, per capita, what it was where I came from – especially sexual crime), I was constantly yelled at, cussed at, and people were generally rude. I had never lived in a place that was so demoralizing and so depressing. Going into a second year, in my opinion at the time, was a terrible decision. But I fell for the sunken cost fallacy. I went back.
In my second year of law school, I worked at the immigration law clinic. I was a co-chair of the National Lawyers Guild. I adopted an attitude of, “Well, it can’t get any worse.” I declined the class I was invited to take for the students who had bad grades. I decided either things would get better, or they wouldn’t. I decided it would just be a waste of time. This is where it’s important for people who are in law school and doubting themselves need to start paying attention.
I declined a class that said it could save my grades. I turned it down! Because I felt that that was the best decision for ME. It was ill advised by everyone. It was supposedly a terrible choice. It was as bad as choosing not to outline, or writing your notes by hand (which I also do.)
That semester raised my GPA about twice as high as the class claimed it would. It was not only the right choice, it was a fantastic choice. And all because I didn’t let myself get overwhelmed by bureaucracy and charitable advice.
My second year was fantastic. It was stressful. It was what law school is supposed to be. I worked with real clients at the immigration law clinic. I won my first case. I traveled to Chicago for the NLG convention. I took on translating gigs, DACA and Naturalization clinics, I went out and started looking for a real summer job. I decided where I wanted to work. I came up with a plan. I called them. We talked it out. I got the job.
After all the drama with my clients and my work and my classes (which were also good, by the way), my grades came out fantastic. I was beyond excited. My second semester didn’t disappoint either. I got another client, an inspiring woman who is currently the center of a massive fundraising effort. My grades were fantastic again.
I overcame problems with my coworkers and made lifelong friends. I became one of the international law cohort. I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and I went out and applied to be a research assistant for Professor Bennoune, who I had timidly approached my first year but then been intimidated away from working with because I had bad grades.
She took me on as one of her research assistants, starting in May, and continuing until I graduate. I was on Cloud 9.
I moved to Boise for the summer, my dream town, with my dream job, working for the ACLU, on my dream topic, immigrants’ rights. I got to participate in things that actually meant something, and I knew I was making a difference. I got along well with all of the staff, I made a bunch of new contacts and friends. Everything was coming up roses.
This year, things aren’t all just falling into place yet. They will, I know. But for now it’s another round of applications. Building. I’ll know where I stand on jobs for next year by December. I’m working my tail off as research assistant for Professor Bennoune, and neither my relationship with my fiancé, nor my dog, has withered and died as a consequence of neglect, which I was ASSURED would happen to us.
I didn’t do law review. I didn’t do moot court. I didn’t do any journals, except my first year bluebooking for the Journal of International Law. I didn’t have a job with a law firm my first summer. I didn’t get good grades.
And you know what? As of yet, none of that matters at all. No one cares. It hasn’t come up with any interviews, it’s not an issue.
So if you’re thinking law school, and you are scared of doing it “wrong” or that you don’t know “anything about law” or you just feel like you will lose your love, your life, your family from the stress – it’s all BS. You’ll be fine. The important thing to remember, at any single given moment, is that you are fine. You know what’s best for you. You are the only person who has to live with your choices. And your choices will always be right, as long as you are making them for yourself. The bigger picture – always – is your life. And if the decision fits in what you want for your life, then it’s the right one.
In other news, in the next 11 months, I’ll be finishing my writing requirement, taking the MPRE, graduating, turning 25, moving home to Idaho, taking the bar exam and getting married. And I can’t wait.