lawyer

My heavy backpack in place, I climbed the stairs purposefully, heartbeat quickening and stomach fluttering, not from physical exertion, but in anticipation of the meeting.  For the entire first semester of my 3L year of law school, I met weekly with Professor Redish, one of the foremost scholars in the country on the First Amendment, brainstorming ideas and discussing my research.  I had given him my first attempt at synthesizing those discussions and the innumerable hours of accompanying research in written form a week ago, and  now I was about to get his feedback.  Despite the fact that I had poured every ounce of ability and effort I had into this initial draft, I knew he was going to tear it apart, highlighting loose phrases and tangled organization and demanding more precision and clarity out of me.  That was what I wanted.  The 3L Senior Research program gave me, a mostly ignorant law student, the opportunity to work side-by-side with and learn from a professor who had written multiple books and law review articles, some of which had been cited by the Supreme Court.   Astonishingly, he took the time to read every word of every draft I submitted and comment in detail each time on areas in which I could improve it.  Every week, I learned something about the First Amendment and, more importantly, about the process of writing on account of his insight.  And, at the end of the year, not only did I end up with a published law review article, but I had also established a close relationship with Professor Redish that will last throughout my legal career.

A week later, I waited for the elevator as I read through a brief that had recently been filed in the United States Supreme Court.  I turned to the Argument section and, three pages in, I saw sentences I had written a few weeks before.  Our Supreme Court Practicum had assisted in the Fourth Amendment case of Kentucky v. King. and I personally, a law student, had been assigned a section of the brief to draft.  Not all of my sentences had made it into the final version, but the words I had painstakingly crafted formed the core of the defendant’s argument.  That day, I was taking the elevator to our weekly class meeting, where the lesson on oral advocacy would be taught by Carter Philips, who, having argued more than 75 cases in the Supreme Court (more than any other individual in private practice), is one of the nation’s preeminent Supreme Court advocates.  One of my good friends waiting for the elevator with me was on his way to meet with the clinical instructor for his juvenile justice clinic; he had just come back from representing a wrongfully convicted teenager in an actual court proceeding in Chicago.  Later that month at one of our Practicum’s moot courts, I would have the opportunity to argue a Supreme Court case against the advocate who would actually argue in front of the Supreme Court.

Two years out from law school, I remember such experiences with a sense of nostalgia and awe at the opportunities available to us as law students.  Law school involved countless hours of research and writing, but it involved many more hours of forming relationships and learning from people who had achieved immense success.  Throughout law school, with my small study group, fellow journal members, or other members of student organizations, I spent hours working to accomplish some objective or understand a complex problem.  But I also spent innumerable hours enjoying and building those relationships: going to a bowling + lunch special at nearby Lucky Strike Lanes, attending the weekly “Bar Review” gathering at a local Chicago bar, and facing off against our bitter rivals at University of Chicago in the unique Chicago “sport” of whirlyball.  I look back with amazement that I had the opportunity to work with and learn from the people that I did, and, at the same time, experience both the difficult and the fun times alongside people who became some of my closest friends on earth.  The experiences and education were invaluable, not because of the job I ultimately landed, but because law school radically improved my thinking, my writing, and my understanding of the world while at the same time giving me professional and personal relationships that will last a lifetime.  Contrary to the popular accounts of law school I had heard before entering, I found law school to be the ultimate joint pursuit.

I chose to go to law school because I wanted to be challenged intellectually but also work in a field in which I could impact the world.  As a law student, I started to have that opportunity, and after graduation, the opportunity has only grown.  As a clerk for a federal appellate judge last year, I had the opportunity to work with my judge and co-clerks on cases and draft opinions that have been cited as precedent in other courts within the circuit and across the country.  As Bristow Fellow in the Office of the Solicitor General this year, I work on briefs and research cases that directly impact on the law as applied across the country, as well as the parties to the case.  But every time I write, I recall the demanding eye of Professor Redish and my other professors, and, in preparing to argue an appeal this year, I will remember the practiced advice of Carter Philips and others who taught our clinic.  Thus, I still rely on the skills I learned in law school on a daily basis.  More importantly, though, if I ever have an urgent problem, have good news to share, need a recommendation, or hear a funny story I know they will enjoy, I have an extensive network of friends, professors, and now colleagues that I can call or email at any time without hesitation.  Although I do not climb those stairs or take that elevator anymore, those journeys, and the people with whom I shared them, led me to where I am today and continue to guide me as I move forward.  Before law school, I had little idea of the ultimate direction my life would take, but three years at Northwestern gave me the vision, community, and competence to move forward with confidence and a new sense of purpose.  In a very real sense, those three years made me who I am today.