So, April is not fun. Even relatively to the rest of law school. Finals begin at the end of the month – a fact of which everyone is painfully aware. The journal writing competition begins right after finals. Most people are still looking for summer jobs that pay a wage greater than or equal to the local Dunkin Donuts. Thoughts have already turned to the fall interview process as the Career Development Office begins prepping everyone for the grind that entails. Then, there are the personal issues: taxes, apartment searches, family responsibilities, significant others, and whatever else you might have on your personal to-do list.
This isn’t a situation unique to BU Law – this is something that every first-year law student is going to go through. It’s going to sap your energy, any semblance of a personal life disappears, and it’s going to feel like everything is coming down around you. If it has not happened yet, the thought will occur to you: why am I even here? It’s your own little special crisis of faith.
This is where picking the right law school becomes so essential. The environment that you are in is the only thing that you are going to have to draw on to find that spark, drive and desire that brought you to law school in the first place. The key question is no longer “Why did you go to law school?” Rather, you need to know “Why did you stay in law school?” Because after one semester, you know that all you can expect is the same stress, multiplied to a whole new level.
April is now over. My exam outlines are done and I’m employed for the summer. More than that, though, I’m at peace at where I am and where I am going. There’s a reason that Princeton Review ranked BU Law #1 for Best Faculty and #6 for Best Career Prospects. From Day 1, the priority of the faculty and staff here is the student body. On top of that, you get to walk out every day into Boston in spring – and as a Californian, that’s a gift that keeps on giving.
More than anything, though, I know why I am still in law school. It’s been an affirming experience, and rather than grieving about how bad the class materials are, I can stick to grieving about how many class materials there are. One of these problems is unavoidable, and the other can only be alleviated by getting yourself out of your own law school crisis of faith. 1600 pages of Scalia’s Supreme Court opinions is either going to be a hurdle to happiness or a ladder – I recommend adapting a masochistic sense of humor.
