Law School Applications: Marathon from Hell

In what would become the most historic run of all time, in 490 BC a Greek Soldier trekked from Marathon to Athens to bring the good news of a Greek victory over the Persians. Upon arriving in Athens, the soldier collapsed and died such a merciful fate for this young man and his efforts!

Last week I had lunch with a fellow law school applicant with whom I commiserated about the application process. We bemoaned and begrudged the overly bureaucratic and subjective process; the hours spent studying for the LSAT, taking the dreadful test, requesting application materials, filling out forms, sending transcripts, finding old bank statements for financial aid applications, applying for scholarships. And then the interminable waiting. You develop a unique lovehate relationship with your mailbox. Is there a large package from Harvard? When it isn’t there you sift through the rest of your mail praying that the alltelling little white envelope hasn’t been sent. Nothing’s there. The wait goes on. It is indeed, a marathon. But instead of eternal peace at the other end, we have three years of torturous study ahead. Somehow, it seems, the Greek soldier got off easy.

As the application season comes to a close and all law school hopefuls start receiving their acceptance letters (or as I like to say, your “no thank you” letters) and we begin weighing our options, we also begin to see a light at the end of the tunnel. The process will be over. For some, there is the notsofun rejection factor to deal with. This year, with applications up nearly 100% at most law schools across the country, incredibly qualified applicants are finding little white envelopes in their mail boxes more frequently. Dealing with rejection is itself a process. From my experience (ugh – unfortunately) those who find themselves in the situation of, “while there were many qualified candidates” recover in a fivestep process.

One: Denial. Pretend that you didn’t open the letter. You replace the single sheet of paper back in the envelope and stare at it for awhile. You open it again and make sure you read it correctly. Shit.

Two: Continued Denial. Tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You just applied because you thought it would be a good experience. Like you REALLY wanted to go there next year anyway…..

Three: Cry. You hate doing it, but the tears flow anyway. You sob so much that you can’t breath because the snot is blocking your nostrils. It is an embarrassing display and hopefully no one else is around to witness this horrible case of selfpity.

Four: Anger. In a fit of rage, you take to the pen. In drafting your perfectly nasty letter to X Law School, you tell them what an enormous mistake they have made and you wouldn’t have even attended their school if they had begged you. You tear up the letter.

Five: Acceptance. You come to terms with this injustice. You tell yourself that they missed out on having you, not the other way around. You repeat the mantra, “everything happens for a reason” because your shrink tells you to. You’re not ready to admit it yet, but this could be the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Why do we put ourselves through this torture? Because like love, when you succeed there is nothing else in the world that feels as good. We are young and passionate and want to better not only ourselves but also the world around us and we have chosen law as our tool.

Is there anything that we can take from the actual process of applying to law school (and being rejected) that will be applicable in our careers as students of the law and later in life as attorneys? Resolutely yes! Law, like life, is about challenges and perseverance. Cases are not won in a day, laws are not passed without debate and resistance and those who can stay the course are ultimately successful. And that means overcoming adversity. Learning to deal with set backs and finding a way to move on. So while this year long (sometimes two or three) process can be arduous, it can most certainly be an incredible starting place for our legal educations. So take those rejection letters and display them like badges of honor. They are evidence of a hard fought Marathon finished. And when you are in your twilight years, sitting on the bench of the Supreme Court, it might be fun to pull those dusty rejection letters out of your files, and forward them on to those schools that missed their chance.