Happy Welcome to Law School, or Back to Law School, or Back to Work
September, and the living is easy…. Wait—that was summer, when the living is easy. September is back to school for many Albertans including Alberta’s law students. Back to school can be a wonderful time of year filled with anticipation and new school supplies, but also with trepidation. When my children were in elementary school, I remember telling my mother that the school was holding a “tea and tears” event for parents on the first morning of school. My mom laughed and said it should be “tea and cheers” for the parents. True in many respects.
Congratulations to first year students at the University of Alberta and the University of Calgary! Law school can be a wonderful time, meeting new classmates and being exposed to a different style of critical thinking. But law school can be challenging as well and we know that many of you will experience Imposter Syndrome, that feeling that you somehow were admitted to law school by mistake and that when the powers that be discover that you aren’t as smart as everyone else, they will kick you out. Law students experience it, articling students experience it, and so do lawyers. I’m 62, and when I learn when feelings of Imposter Syndrome stop, I will tell you.
Please know that none of you were admitted by mistake. You all earned your spots, and the admissions committee believes that you can succeed. We all need help—different help at different times. Some students (and some articling students and lawyers) will find some things easier to learn than others do. This is because we all have unique strengths and weaknesses. The person who has just knocked your socks off and triggered the latest bout of Imposter Syndrome may learn a particular skill or academic content more quickly than other people, but law is filled with different skills and learning opportunities. You bring your own special skills and abilities so please try not to psych yourself out when another student seems to immediately get a point that is eluding you. That student who grasped a tricky point quickly may admire your ability to advocate for classmates or to speak publicly—our professional is multi-faceted, and we value hard skills and soft skills and everything in between.
I was at one of our law schools this week to share information about Assist, and the area where we were set up was incredibly hot. Many of the exhibitors were feeling the heat, but I seemed to be faring worse than others, perhaps due to a poor night’s sleep the night before. Another exhibitor suggested that I sit down and take a break since sweat was pouring down my face (not a pretty sight, I am sure.) I found a quiet place to sit while I recalibrated—in the library.
I haven’t been in a law school library for years. I was fascinated by the signs asking students to put their mobile phones and PDAs on silent mode. We don’t talk much about Personal Digital Assistants, like Palm Pilots, anymore, smart phones having taken over that market share. Or perhaps the library sign was asking students to keep their Public Displays of Affection quiet, which other students no doubt would appreciate! There was also a secure phone charging station which seemed to allow phones to be safely stored for theft while charging—but if you didn’t claim your phone before library staff hours ended, you would have to get it the next day. Talk about stressful if you can’t get back to the library to retrieve your phone!
And there was, of course, a sign stating that food was not permitted in the library—some things never change. I don’t remember if we had a sign like this when I was in law school, but the rule existed: no food or beverage in the library. However, many of us found reading a case at a carrel (in printed casebooks—how archaic!) more pleasant when accompanied by a hot beverage, so we played a game of smuggling coffee or tea into the library. This was the 1980s, and people didn’t carry personal water bottles or drink as much water as we do today. There were water fountains we could access necessary, but I don’t remember anyone wanting to have a glass (heaven forbid a bottle) of water in their study space, so I don’t think anyone trying to sneak water into the library. But sneaking coffee or tea in was a common activity which we perfected over the course of first year.
It was trickiest during the daytime when you had to pass full-time library staff at the front desk. They had eagle eyes and were dedicated to the principle that materials which could harm books should not enter the hallowed halls of bookdom. But the evening and weekend staff were law students, working part-time jobs to help pay for their legal education, and they understood the law student perspective as well as the librarians. If you were discreet, you could pull off bringing in your coffee or tea, but anyone open-carrying would get called out.
I had a large tote bag with a flat bottom, and I could put a few Styrofoam cups on the bag’s base and carry it carefully to where my friends and I studied. I don’t remember getting caught.
I am a rule following person generally and I don’t know why sneaking in tea was my one-woman rebellion against authority. It may have had to do with the fact that the lowest level of the law school library was the smoking floor—seriously: cigarette smoking was allowed, but not sipping coffee or tea. The 1980s were a strange time.
So, as I sat in the law school library this week with my bottle of water, I reminisced about law school library shenanigans-- including a late night mini golf tournament (the Johnny Weir Classic, since the U of A law school is named for John A Weir, a Dean in the early 1920s) that was featured in our yearbook so clearly the Faculty looked the other way! I am pretty sure that after-hours invasions of university property would no longer be countenanced.
Compared to the other primary way that my generation of law students blew off steam—drinking—library antics were relatively harmless. We had weekly Friday Afternoon Beer Socials, including a Nickel-a-Beer Fabs at year-end to zero out the student society’s bank account. Many law students who engaged in risky drinking behaviour evolved into pillars of the legal community, but two of my classmates (that I know of) were disbarred for addiction-related conduct. Alcohol-fueled social events did not enhance our profession, and I am proud that law schools have diversified, recognizing that more than one-quarter of Canadians over age 18 do not drink alcohol at all.
And I was surprised to find out that the law libraries at both Alberta law schools are closed on Sundays. Back in my student days, we needed access to physical components of the library collection—it looks like digitization has evolved how law students study.
One other way that law schools have changed has to do with mental health. Law school is stressful. Remember submitting your first memo in the fall of first year? Then there was mandatory moot court, followed by 100% final exams in full-year courses. We didn’t acknowledge the role that stress, distress and crisis played for law students or lawyers.
When we were stressed (curling up in the fetal positions and on the verge of dropping out), we felt alone and isolated. Surely, we were the only ones experiencing distress when all of our classmates seemed so together and didn’t appear to struggle—NOT. I did not hear a word about mental health and addiction during law school or my early years of practice. We acted like law students and lawyers were specifically gifted at handling stress (even though we were selected solely based on our GPAs and LSAT scores.)
Imagine my surprise when I became more closely involved in law student and lawyer mental health in my role as Executive Director of Assist, and I learned that during the year that I graduated, one of the leading studies about law student’s poor mental health was released. We were being studied by researchers because of our high levels of stress and distress, but no one shared this information with us. We suffered alone.
Personally, I would trade law library shenanigans for an improved mental health environment, and I am delighted when law students tell me how they are managing their stress or want to help other students who are overwhelmed.
Is law school a kinder and gentler place than it was forty years ago? I can’t say for sure. Working in lawyer and student mental health, I truly believe that law schools’ approach to mental health has improved algorithmically. I don’t think the workload or expectations have changed, though—it is still a hard slog. But for incoming law students (and their more senior peers), you are not alone. There is a community of lawyers who devote time and attention to providing support when the going gets tough.
When you meet a bump, please do not blame yourself or feel guilty. It happens to all of us, but sadly some members of our profession hide their vulnerability and try to perpetuate the misleading image of a lawyer who is impervious to the vicissitudes of life. Don’t curl up in the fetal position but do call Assist (1-877-498-6898). You can access professional counselling and 24/7 crisis counselling with a senior registered psychologist, and we can provide peer support with a trained lawyer volunteer who can share their strategies and experiences.
We have an extensive collection of articles and papers dealing with stress in the legal community on our website. We have community groups, including coffee circles, free online mindfulness at noon on Tuesdays, and free online yoga at noon on Wednesdays—this newsletter shows how to access these programs. And if you are worried about a classmate or colleague, please check out Helping Someone in Distress or meet with an Assist counsellor.
Lawyers and students ask me how they know if they should pursue counselling. There is no litmus test, but I ask them to consider whether they feel like themselves and whether someone close to them has perhaps told them that they don’t seem like themselves. Withdrawing from people you are close to can also be an indicator. But there is no harm in meeting with a counsellor in our program—Assist will pay for it, and the worst thing that will happen is that a counsellor will tell you that you have great coping strategies!
We don’t have a litmus test for crisis counselling either. If you feel like you are experiencing a crisis, call us at 1-877-498-6898 and if you are calling after hours, listen for the contact information for the psychologist on call and then call them directly.
Stigma about law student and lawyer mental health and addiction issues has improved over the nearly four decades since I graduated from law school. It still exists—but we now talk about these issues more openly and we have access to resources and supports. And if you want to be part of the movement to counter stigma in our community, please join our team.
Happy Welcome to Law School, or Back to Law School, or Back to Work. Assist is here for you.
Loraine