Dear 1Ls,
You’ve all heard the main bulk of the warnings about law school. You’ve probably been hearing them for months. It’s going to be hard; it’s going to be a lot of work; you’re graded against your classmates so you’d better find out who your friends are; something about Socrates. You’ll have to sacrifice a lot of time and money. Sometimes it’ll feel like it’s not worth it, but somehow it will be. You’ll meet your best friends here; you’ll meet some people you hate. There might be a strike, and if you were an A student, you might have to learn how to handle the occasional B. I know it’s just the beginning for you here, but it was only by finishing first year that I realized there was something missing from my introduction that might have helped me along. I want to tell you how it’s going to feel once you make it, because no one told me just how much more there is to finishing 1L than simply surviving. It’s a strange, confusing, mixed bag of emotions, and you’re going to get to call it yours.
I finished my State exam with a few minutes to spare. I looked up at the clock on the projector screen in front of us. My throat tightened over everything, but also over nothing in particular. Low-level, droning anxiety, rolling like waves as the end of it all came closer, and the minutes ticked down feeling exactly like the entire year preceding it had. It was another iteration of the now-familiar “I know I could do more, but I just don’t know where to start” feeling. The difference this time was that I could see the seconds of that feeling disappearing, as the moments for me to change my State mark disappeared with it. The clock hit 4:30. “Stop typing, your exam is over,” said our proctor, and that’s when it hit me. That’s when it got weird.
Now, most of you don’t know me, but one thing I need you to know is that I have a lot of feelings, a lot of the time. Usually, I get what’s set me off, I understand the source and the outcome, my own brain isn’t a complete mystery. With that said, finishing 1L threw me. When I turned to my classmates, I was awash with relief, but at the same time, a powerful, surprising sadness. I only realized it after the fact, but by finishing our State exams and walking tiredly out into the main hall and collecting with the rest of our year, our days with our 72 favourite and least favourite colleagues had come to an end.
It was the last time I’d sit beside some of my favourite people, who were about to split off down their own respective paths. Many might be away for semesters at a time; others might not be back in the fall. It was the end of eight months surrounded by people who really understood my experience, shared the same professors and schedules (for better or for worse), and had the same readings and the same exams. That sense of community gave us time and space to catch our breath. Unlike what everyone told us, the lifeboats that we hung onto wound up being each other.
We had all let our lives outside Osgoode’s walls suffer for the sake of drafting the blueprints for the next stages, but at once, all construction was put on hold. 1L summer is the last one where we don’t have to slave away (though some of us still do), pouring concrete and putting up the walls of the home we’re still building. That exam ended, and we were cut loose in a way that felt like our blindfolds had been ripped off and we were left standing in the midday sun. Everything around us is bright and warm, but we’re too confused to realize that we’re free.
So, with all that said, if you want to practice efficient reading and feel like skipping the meat of this message, all I really want you to know is this: build bridges to – and not barriers between – your classmates this year. The curve means nothing in the grand scheme of things; the content of your character will propel you farther than your transcript, especially when most of you will get a B. The networks you build while you’re a student here will be the ones that hold you up for the rest of your career. Professional school means you’re not just hanging out with your classmates, you’re spending time with your future colleagues. Treat them well, because they’re probably not going very far when you graduate.
I am just one voice with one experience, but if it gives you a little bit of comfort, know that kindness still has its place. I challenge you to look at who is sitting with you in your next class, and see not your competition, but your comrades. There is no one who will understand your year better than the people in that room, just trust me. One year ago, I was sitting there, too.
Good luck, and welcome to Osgoode. You made it here, which means you are more than enough. If you don’t believe me, get in touch, and I’ll prove it to you.