Replacing darkness and despair with hopes of goodwill and renewed optimism
As the holiday season quickly approaches, and another year slowly comes to an end, it seems only fitting to pause and reflect upon the moments that have passed us by, those we currently live in, and those yet to come. It is far too easy for us law students to narrow the perspective on our lives during this time of the year to little more than eating, studying, and sleeping. And at times, two of those three seem merely optional. To persist down this path may bring the immediate rewards of academic glory and the justification needed for a seventh eggnog latte in one day, but it also detracts our attention away from the bigger picture we are part of, the reasons why we have chosen to walk this path in the first place. So in true Dickensian fashion, this salty, old Scrooge would like to explore the depths of her own soul in hopes of arriving at the traditional epiphany often espoused as the end of another year gone by. After all, what kind of a paper would this be without the pontifications of its staff? No, don’t answer that.
The Ghost of Christmas Past
I think it’s safe to say that each and every one of us has found ourselves in our present predicament – it is, after all, both a blessing and a curse – as a result of circumstances that bear a great significance in our life. So while it’s easy to dismiss the cliché question ‘Why did you apply to law school?’ in jest, the likely reality is that the answer is the motivation influencing how our journeys take shape during these next years. To that end, it seems somewhat appropriate to reflect on where we started, regardless of where we currently stand, to gain a full appreciation of just how far we’ve already come since then. It might seem trite to point out, but the value isn’t in revealing the process per se, but rather the substantive insight that it can provide.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I’m probably one of the black sheep as far as one’s expectations of a law student is concerned. Or at the very least, I’m a dark shade of grey. I didn’t arrive at law school through the front doors like most. Instead, I slipped in through the delivery doors after spending a good ten years traipsing about the yard looking at cloud bunnies in the sky and occasionally pondering whether it’s possible to build an elevator to space. I was an art student. My Ghost of Christmas Past brings memories of a career that indulged in radicalism and scoffed at the notion of doing anything conventional. It was a time where I was free-spirited in thought and not yet tempered by the pragmatic realities that quickly become evident after a single semester of law school. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but I was fortunate to have the opportunity to find myself in a field that fosters innovation without placing barriers that prevent unexpected possibilities. It wasn’t necessarily the creation of the work that I was most passionate about, but rather the mindset involved in the process.
My Ghost also reveals to me the memories of my time back home in Vancouver where I was surrounded by the love and support of my friends and family, a time when I came home after work every night to my partner. As I’m sure many of us have discovered, there truly isn’t a better test of the strength of those connections than choosing to study law nearly 4500 kilometers away. In looking back on the life I was living, I begin to appreciate the sacrifices I’ve made in order to be here. I took a risk by leaving an established career to pursue what is arguably a complete turnaround from where I stood with no guarantees of success – in fact, quite the opposite! I lost several good friends and a fiancé as a result of the distance and the demands on my time. I don’t reflect on these things as an act of self-pity. I look at them as an indication of the strength of my commitment to these goals, as a reminder to keep moving forward lest I cheapen the integrity of the sacrifices I’ve made.
The Ghost of Christmas Present
If I were to remain true to Dickensian classic narrative, it would be at this point in my musings that I would begin to enumerate the law school platitudes we are all so intimately familiar with. I would set the stage such that the final climatic revelation strikes the reader with a force reminiscent of an M Night Shyamalan ending. It really wouldn’t be too hard of a task, considering the general overall level of anxiety and stress experienced on a daily basis. Law school really speaks for itself in this matter, and perhaps so much so that it becomes unnecessary to add fuel to a fire already burning. Instead, I would prefer to take a more optimistic approach, as hard as that might be to conceive of at this post-OCI, pre-exam moment in time. Depending on the nature of the steps leading us here, it can be a cathartic release to reconcile the past with our present, and all the more beneficial when we are able to conclude that we are in a better position as a result of the choices we’ve made.
I must admit that I find myself torn between my own past and present. The Ghost of Christmas Past makes a persuasive argument in favour of returning to my old life back in BC, and without consideration of what the Ghost of Christmas Present has to bring, I would be sitting on a patio drinking craft beer and wearing flip flops right now rather than contemplating the implications of separate class voting in amalgamation squeeze-outs. On its face, the choice seems easy, almost obvious, until I’m confronted with the fruits of my labour for the past fifteen months. My Ghost of Christmas Present points out the daunting task I have taken on for myself, and reminds me of how, despite contrary expectations, I have been able to keep step without faltering. I see the incredible opportunities that I never would have had if I had chosen to stay in my old life. I see the impact that this experience has had on me, for better and worse, and how it has transformed me from the person I used to be. I also see the quality of new connections that I have made with my peers around me, and though it may seem overstated, those friendships have truly become one of the key reasons why I don’t regret the decision I made.
Do I enjoy the ninety-minute commute to a part of the GTA defined by the strange disparate conglomerate of corporate headquarters, visible minorities, and the academic elite? Not particularly. Have I suddenly turned a blind eye to the systemic failings of our profession and the inevitable frustration my participation in it will bring? No, I couldn’t if I tried. Nor do I hold an enlightened perspective toward the SNAILS in our library or the technical hiccups that we are told will be resolved ‘soon.’ I have simply come to understand that these irritants pale in comparison to the enjoyment I get from knowing that whatever happens in the years ahead, I have already acquired rewards that will last me for life. While I may have given up the comfort and familiarity of a career I knew well and lost the possibility of a future together with my partner, I have gained insights that will forever change the way in which I view the world around me, and formed friendships with people I could now never imagine being without. Yes, we pay a high price to be here, on so many different levels. And if given the chance, I would pay it again.
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
At this point, I can’t help but hear Donald Rumsfeld’s infamous line, “there are known knowns” running through my head. Further to his point, I find myself in the difficult position of attempting to comment upon the unknown unknowns. I could propose wild, thinly-supported speculations as to what future lies ahead, but that would be tantamount to suddenly departing from an empirical exposition into the frolics of my own imagination. But I suppose that’s simply a reality that I should come to accept if I intend to have any chance at a successful career in the law.
As I consider the possible futures that we may face upon our graduation, I realize that I couldn’t draft a more fearsome cautionary tale than our current reality indicates. From articling shortages to increasingly automated processes, the legal landscape is one suffering from the impact of economic hardship like many other industries. However, unlike A Christmas Carol, this is not a tale that must inevitably lead to such fear mongering in order to make its point. We sit in a different position than that of the bitter, old miser, Ebenezer Scrooge. Ours is a tale characterized by just the opposite. We are all acutely aware of the consequences that are in store for us should we choose to pursue our goals absent-minded of our actions in the present day. In fact, I might argue that we would be better served to remind ourselves, not of the repercussions of our imagined failures, but the potential avenues leading to success. They are waiting for us if we are willing to overcome our own expectations of what the future is supposed to entail, and embrace the uncertainty involved in navigating the waters of a profession that offers no guiding bright lines. So with that said, I can’t say what my Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come has hidden behind his back. And I’m not sure that I want to know. I’m content in the knowledge that I currently have, and the confidence I have in my own ability to continue making choices that lead me to a future I will be proud of. The key is to have faith in yourself and not the changing environment around you.
And on that note, I wish you all the best on each of your journeys, and hope that you find time to pause the calamity this time of year brings in order to reflect upon what your own Christmas spirits may bring you. Hopefully it involves some combination of cheer, good tidings, and vast quantities of rumballs. Preferably sans ball.