Shoot For The Moon; If You Miss, You’ll Be Yet Another Tiny Speck In The Sky
When I first began law school, I was highly motivated and filled with boundless enthusiasm. I purchased multicolored highlighters, commercial study guides, and crisp notepaper with the goal of being a dedicated student who studied on a nightly, no, hourly basis. I bought Mason School of Law paraphernalia, became active on Facebook, and signed up for every club that sounded remotely interesting. And then I just stopped doing anything.
I would plan to sit down and dedicate hours to my textbooks, only to stop midway through the first page because I’d realized that it had been minutes since I’d last eaten/flossed/polished my coin collection. Chores that had been languishing on the back burner for months suddenly became urgent and exciting. Who knew that you could actually scrub the wires on the back of the television with a toothbrush? Who knew that the pipes under the bathroom sink could accumulate such a thick layer of black sludge after years of abuse? (More to the point, who knew you weren’t supposed to pour coffee/beer/rubber cement down the drain?)
Suffice to say, the uphill battle against my waning motivation has made the past few weeks a bit challenging. I’m guessing that many of you understand where I’m coming from – those of you who have already finished your first year can fondly recall these stagnant days, while those of you who are currently in the midst of the suffering are relieved to discover that there is somebody who is worse off than you. Relax and rest assured; there is a reason dozens of people have joined the Facebook group “I’ve Thought About Dropping Out Of Law School At Least Ten Times Today”.
Because this column has already become somewhat of a cathartic confessional for me, I might as well admit that I’ve spent a lot of time entertaining the idea of dropping out in the past week. Before law school, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer but now that I’m on my way, I’ve never been less certain. I’ve spent more time worrying about what I want to be when I grow up and what will make me truly happy than I’ve spent breathing, and still I was unable to make a conclusion. So I did what any reasonable person would do: I posted my situation on Craigslist.org and waited for complete strangers to solve my problems.
The responses I received were highly varied. One person suggested that I join the Peace Corps, because I’ll “love [my]self more, because being over-privileged makes [me] undervalue [my] own worth, especially when it becomes obvious that material gain is a very small portion of happiness.” I took the liberty of translating that sage advice: “I’m bitter that I don’t drive a more expensive car.” Another person commiserated with my misery, stating that he had dropped out after the first year of law school because he “didn’t have the stomach for making the huge salary [he] knew [he] could easily command if [he] stuck it out and worked for a corporate or prestigious law firm. [He] felt [he] would do less harm to society if [he] decided to sell heroin to get rich.” He didn’t mention if he’d decided to follow through on that option.
One person kindly addressed the part of my posting where I acknowledged that I was probably losing my mind by saying, “at this point, you need to be a little more anxious and worry about getting your shit together.” In other words, hit the panic button now because you’re at rock bottom and already digging. Gosh, I feel better already. Another person suggested that I find Jesus and start praying, but quite frankly, I’d rather spend my time learning to darn lace or something equally unfulfilling and slow. One kind lady advised me to literally run screaming immediately before law school raped, pillaged, and plundered me. She felt so strongly about it that she wrote me two nearly identical emails, vociferously encouraging me to quit at once before the devil ate my soul. She did not mention what type of very strong illegal drugs she was taking, or whether she was interested in sharing. Perhaps she had gotten them from the man who decided to sell heroin instead of justice.
The best advice I got out of the whole experiment was the person who advised me to decide whether or not I truly loved the idea of being a lawyer, and then make my decision based upon that. This person reminded me that law school was hard and expensive, but that it could be enjoyable if I really wanted it. This was highly satisfying because, (1) it made me realize that not everybody on Craigslist.org is huffing spray-paint while building sacrificial altars, and (2) it helped me to focus on the final destination after law school. Okay, so I’m not fully motivated yet, and I’d be lying if I said I went ahead and stuck my Mason School of Law bumper sticker in the back window of my car, but it helped me to understand where I stand.
So this is my final assessment: law school isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be something that comes naturally. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and as long as we all keep our eyes on the prize (even if that light turns out to be the neon sign of the local bar), we’ll get through this. And if not, the world always needs a few good garbage collectors.