What kept me sane during 1L year at a Tier 1 law school
Finding God's transcendent "Sabbath" rest
Welcome! I’m a Christian law student concerned about equal access to justice. I write practical guides on navigating the legal profession, like on how to craft your law school application or how to conquer law school (forthcoming). More on that below.
The Case for Sabbath
I rubbed my eyes, which, between the wafts of paint and polyurethane and the chalk slung liberally from palm to palm by climbers, I imagined to be caked in rubberband dust— the kind that tastes acrid when you accidentally lick your fingers. We had been milling around for 1.5 hours on the hard concrete floor of a converted warehouse, surveying a climbing competition. My ankles ached and my eyes felt crusty, but I was at ease. It was March 23, and I was settling into familiar rhythms: like every other Saturday, I had no intentions of opening a law school casebook. Instead, I was practicing Sabbath exactly as God intended it: sharing life with others in pursuit of continual reconciliation.
The climber we supported was in our church small group, the husband of a law school classmate. So my classmate and I also undertook this act of Sabbath as a revolt against our institution of learning which shaped those who belonged to it into self-seeking and rigid adversaries, able only to pay attention to themselves. We, along with my husband, tailed our champion around the climbing gym beladen with coats and bags.
I had no expectations, but found myself “riding high” (with joy) — as God promised to his Sabbath-keepers (Isaiah 58) — because I had forayed into someone else’s world. It was a lovely one. Fed bits of wisdom by our friend and other climbers, I learned that climbing required not only physical strength but a sharp mind, flexibility, sure-footedness, stamina, and cheering on fellow climbers as they attempted routes. There were no referees because fellow competitors signed your competition papers as witnesses. They also murmured tips into each other’s ears unprompted. It was a bonafide community.
And it helped me better understand an old high school friend, a dancer and a tomboy who used to heave chinups on a passing stairway rail and who now filled my feed with climbing videos. That evening, I curled into the red armchair and scrolled her Instagram page, watching old videos. I reveled in the blessing of having one more tendril tying us together.
1L year at Cornell was as much about law school as it was not. An impressionable creature, I resisted the miasma of law school by spending ample time in communities of life. There was my church small group that met without fail every Saturday morning, even though the leaders had a toddler and an infant. There were two kindred spirits whose “handsomeness of heart” — a term used by journalist Malcolm Muggeridge to describe those writers sensitive to the human soul — soothed my own. (What were the chances that I’d find these talented creatives in remote Upstate New York?) There was my church. There was my marriage and its rhythms.
To all these communities, I am deeply grateful.
Decoding Law School Exams
When my fall grades came back, I was disappointed with my performance. I formed some hypotheses about why my results didn’t meet my expectations and resolved to test them in the Spring. But I faced a choice. Would I compromise my Sabbath? Or would I honor its progression as my relationships with these communities of life deepened and the “Sabbath” spilled outside my Saturday designation?
Having gone through the school-to-work circuit once already, I knew that grades had a timebound significance. Sabbath-keeping, on the other hand, has an eternal one. So my strategy for improving my grades hinged on my assumption that I could work more strategically, rather than longer hours. If I had to sacrifice Sabbath to get good grades, then it wasn’t worth getting them at all.
When June rolled around and the registrar released our transcripts, I held my breath. And was shocked by what I saw. By God’s Grace, I exceeded my goals. The immediate implication is that I now have an iota of understanding about how to perform well on law school exams, so that I can advise you if you’re an incoming first-year student.
I’m writing a five or six-part short article series to prepare incoming 1Ls for law school. Topics include: “What are outlines?” “How do I approach the case method?” “How do I prepare for exams?”
I like your definition of "Sabbath rest." Much better than Pa's in the Little House books, when he ordered his kids to sit entirely still the entire afternoon. Also lovely to see the richness and multifaceted variety of your first year in law school! It's a constant struggle to prevent oneself being reduced to one specialized activity in this society, especially when you're a competitive overachiever lol. But God made us for more, and he cares about who we are more than where we rank.