Dear Reader,
I have officially earned my doctorate degree! I am officially a Doctor of Law, also known as Doctor of Jurisprudence. I successfully graduated from law school – a semester early, if I may take a moment to brag – earning my Juris Doctor, “J.D.,” degree. After what felt like five-ever, I hit the submit button on my final exam from my home office, looked up, and realized that I had reached the peak of a terrifying, breath-taking, unbelievably vertical, but, beautiful mountain.
The peak was lovely. Celebrations were had. Adequately articulating what accomplishing this goal has meant is impossible to do in a quick blog post. So, here’s a short story to help at least contextualize this moment: When I was 17-years-old I went to an interview for my first law-related job, a Legal Intern working for a solo practitioner in San Mateo. During the interview, the managing attorney and I were discussing my future ambitions to become a lawyer and open my own law firm. I told the attorney that I wanted to get going as quickly as possible, and – as a would-be first generation lawyer, I was so excited to even have the opportunity to have someone of his stature listening to me that I could barely sit still in the seat opposite him. The managing attorney nodded his head while listening, waited for me to stop bouncing around, looked me dead in the eyes without returning my smiles, then told me something I never forgot.
Without a single break in his wrinkled face, the managing attorney told me that graduating from law school was “the hardest, most painful, and overall worst life event” he had ever experienced. Then, he started listing what else he considered to be in his top five worst life events, emphasizing that both he – and his wife – agree law school was more painful than her going through childbirth. “Go home and watch The Paper Chase,” he instructed, “if you still think you want to do this after you watch it, then you’ve got the job.” I never let this type of fearmongering erase my lawyer dreams, though it would be deceitful to pretend it didn’t sting. I always held on to his words, and the sincerity with which he – and others I would meet throughout my adolescence and twenties – cautioned against going to law school.
Now that I have made it across the finish line, I can officially say that all of the warnings about the grave difficulty of law school were 110% accurate. Law school demands focus, stamina, and emotional resilience. Just when you think you’ve accumulated a solid understanding of a topic, or you’ve gotten the top grade on an exam, the game changes. All of the sudden you don’t even understand how to read anymore. All of those grade-school feelings of embarrassment come rushing back in, and raising your hand to ask a question out-loud in class feels absolutely shameful. What makes law school especially challenging is the timing! I attended as both a full-time student and a part-time student, and the workload is no joke either way. The work is intense, takes over everything, and it’s easy to feel guilty when you try to take a break. Law school doesn’t pause for life events. This can be shockingly isolating – especially when family, friends, and/or romantic partners don’t understand the demands. Deadlines don’t move because you have a family event, a busy week at work, or a neglected partner. Law school doesn’t care about anything except for case law, proper citations, formal competitive etiquette, and networking. As adults, when something isn’t working we typically recognize the pattern, try to adjust where possible, and then move on to a more compatible match. But, law school is an exercise in doing the exact opposite. Law school repeatedly asks you to keep going – keep applying yourself and keep trying – even when you genuinely, sincerely, and whole-heartedly do not understand, like, or want to continue on further.
Completing law school while also living inside the law as a plaintiff in my own employment lawsuit equipped me with a unique set of skills. Looking back, I think law school is notoriously difficult because it is designed in a way that teaches people to never give up on themselves. Don’t give up on your intellectual self, and your capacity to solve seemingly impossible problems. Don’t give up on your social self, and your innate power to discern the difference between authenticity and artificiality. Don’t give up on your physical self, even when you are drained, puked dry, heart-broken, sleep deprived, and ragged in every possible way. Resilience counts more than perfection. Showing up counts. Finishing counts, even if had to claw yourself passed the finish line.
Sometimes the prize doesn’t come from the journey – it comes from reaching the destination. I’ve found that success isn’t about having a clear, linear path. Sometimes you reach the peak of a terrifying, breath-taking, unbelievably vertical, but, beautiful mountain only to realize that it’s not the peak – it’s just another f***ing false summit and you still need to pass the bar exam before you can call yourself an “attorney.” Typically, the sweetest successes are about refusing to stop walking even when the ground beneath you feels unsteady.
Signed with a smile,
Carlie Jones, Doctor of Law!