While many pre-law students worry about cold calls and networking in law school, I worried about securing a 1L summer position—before I had even finished writing my personal statement. Fortunately, the LLS Career Development Office and my career advisor eliminated those worries. Suddenly, it felt more and more possible that I would spend the summer making no money—not because I would be unemployed, but because I’d be working in public interest, of course!

With resources like resume and writing sample reviews, as well as the opportunity to participate in the Southern California Public Interest Career Day (PICD), I was lucky enough to receive—and later accept—an offer to work with the Lanterman Special Education Legal Clinic as a Summer Advocate. I am incredibly excited and grateful to be working on my first caseload this summer, especially because it will involve students whose needs have too often been neglected and ultimately dismissed, as well as their families.

Before I even introduce myself as a rising 2L to my new summer colleagues, I have to say: LLS has been so helpful in creating an environment where I felt safe making mistakes I could learn from and encouraged to pursue goals I didn’t think were possible for me.

This time last year, I wouldn’t have believed anyone who told me I’d feel competent enough to step into a legal setting. Maybe that’s because I hadn’t started law school yet—or maybe it’s just because I’m a Gemini. Either way, I’m ready now.

 

Since starting law school in August, two things have remained constant each week: I fight a losing battle against Los Angeles traffic almost daily, and I get at least one email from LLS about a networking event, career panel, or job opportunity.

I’ll admit, I tended to overlook emails that didn’t specifically mention public interest opportunities. Around the time on-campus interviews (OCI) began, I started feeling worried about the idea of applying to jobs just for the sake of it—without a real connection to my passion for serving underserved communities. That’s when the Career Development Office announced Loyola’s participation in the SoCal Public Interest/Public Sector Career Day (PICD)—perfect timing.

Scrolling through the list of employers attending PICD gave me the same thrill I felt at my first high school club fair, when I collected as many flyers and handouts as I could from clubs dedicated to helping others. Though I was excited about the opportunity to work with any of these employers, I applied to four non-profits that had either a primary or secondary focus on improving educational equity for students with disabilities in California. I was fortunate to receive interview invitations from two of my top-choice organizations.

After I accepted both invitations, the Career Development Office helped make the whole process feel way less intimidating by connecting me with my advisor, who I scheduled an interview prep meeting with soon after. My advisor created a space where I felt safe asking all sorts of “dumb” questions—though she kindly assured me no such thing existed. After our meeting, she followed up with thoughtful resources specific to the organizations I was interviewing with, which helped me feel more prepared—and only a normal amount of panicked.

Our collaboration paid off when I was offered—and happily accepted—a position as a Summer Advocate with the Lanterman Special Education Legal Clinic. Now, there’s a new constant in my week: picturing the work I’ll get to do and everything I’ll learn in the role.

When I submitted my First-Year Elective preferences, I ranked Adjudicative Criminal Procedure, Introduction to International Law, and Critical Race Theory as my top three choices. I was particularly interested in Adjudicative Criminal Procedure to better understand the criminal legal system as I pursued my interest in post-conviction litigation. However, my legal interests have since shifted toward the intersections of race, class, and disability. After midterm grades were released, I was automatically enrolled in Privacy Torts.

For any future lawyer who is already questioning their place in legal spaces, being assigned a course outside their preferences might feel like a setback. Initially, I struggled with the idea of telling others I was taking Privacy Torts instead of my first choice. But I quickly realized that my performance on two exams— one in a course I had prior exam experience in and another where I was sitting for an exam for the first time—does not define my potential as a law student or my future success as an attorney.

Receiving my spring schedule was a wake-up call: I needed to prioritize my mental health—not just to succeed in law school, but for my overall well-being.

The summer before law school, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety, a condition I suspect I’ve had since childhood. Because I wasn’t experiencing frequent panic attacks or extreme symptoms during the semester, I convinced myself I was “okay.” I rationalized skipping my medication occasionally, telling myself those few seconds were better spent preparing for class. That mindset backfired the day before my Torts exam, when I had my first panic attack in years.

Since then, I’ve carved out time for myself, including therapy, beyond my law school obligations. As a result, I feel better both mentally and academically. I’ve also unexpectedly enjoyed my Privacy Torts class—learning about torts I might not have otherwise explored, like whether there’s legal recourse if someone takes and publishes your photo without consent.

I’ve found both the content and community in this course to be hugely beneficial in my final semester of 1L. If you want to reap this benefit before even starting law school, remember this: A “perfect” 1L year looks different for everyone, and your idea of it may evolve—but don’t be too hard on yourself. This profession will be tough enough on you as it is.

Dear Loyola law school,

I love that our orientation featured a panel of upperclassmen who gave us advice, such as accessing the Barbri 1L Success Course and searching for our classes in the St. Thomas More outline bank.

I love the double chocolate muffins in Sonia’s cafe that get me through early-morning study sessions.

I love the study spots scattered around campus, especially the study room on the third floor of the Casassa building—the one with the large window that overlooks campus, filling the room with warm light as I write case briefs and listen to soundtracks from Tim Burton movies.

I love admiring the architecture of Merrifield Hall and the Robinson Courtroom, where I am absolutely, positively, never zoning out during class. Never.

I love the oversized desks in Rains library that let me law-studentspread—laptop, coffee or smoothie, and AirPods on one side, too many case books, course supplements, and colored pens on the other.

I love that there’s a vending machine room on campus, making it way too easy to grab a snack whenever I need one.

I love that parking is always available in the basement levels of the parking structure—and that scanning my student ID to enter and exit from there is much easier than from the upper levels.

I love how close campus is to some of the best off-campus study spots—Cafe Mak, Tom N Toms Coffee, and About Time.

I love that every one of my professors in our first semester acknowledged how terrifying cold calls can be, yet reassured us that they would help us if we ever got stuck.

Most of all, I love that this list could go on and on because Loyola has so much to offer—academically, socially, and in all the little ways that make law school just a bit easier.

Rooted in the Jesuit tradition of Loyola Marymount University, Loyola Law School fosters a campus culture that sets it apart from other law schools. Rather than harden a law student into a competitor, LLS inspires them to become collaborators. As a result, my law school experience has been far less cutthroat than I expected.

In class, many of my peers are driven by the desire to succeed for themselves and for their future clients rather than the desire to see others fail. Because of this, I believe we’ve created a kind of safe space in Section D3—or at least as safe as it can feel when faced with cold calls, writing assignments, and other law school challenges. Elle Woods may have led others to believe law school is, like, not hard, but the reality is different. My classmates and I quickly realized just how hard the material was, and rather than struggle in stoic silence, we turned to each other and decided to form a study group.

Together, we drilled essays and multiple-choice questions, coordinated our Google calendars, and worked through hundreds of hypotheticals out loud. And, on the day I write this, we celebrated a birthday brunch and then studied over fries and iced vanilla lattes—a questionable combination that, somehow, helped me grasp the doctrines of impossibility, impracticability, and frustration of purpose before heading off to our contracts class.

LLS has challenged the idea that law school is purely competitive, proving that students can find a community of goal-driven and compassionate people in a rigorous academic environment.

During winter break, I reflected on my first semester as a law school student.

Starting backwards, the ugly: Imposter Syndrome.

After countless hours spent studying for the LSAT, drafting and editing my personal statement and optional essays, and asking for bathroom codes at coffee shops I studied at, I hoped my hard work would make me feel deserving of my spot at LLS. But, to the surprise of no first-generation law student, imposter syndrome set in. And it did so during the worst time of a student’s life: reading period. My self-doubt not only showed in the practice exams I started that week but also in the final exams I took in the weeks after. However, when it was all over and I finally had the time to sleep for 14 hours (a personal best!) and crotchet a whopping three scarves, I realized it was important that I lean into my imposter syndrome. By doing so, I turned my feelings of self-doubt into actions for self-growth. My action plan for the new semester includes: dedicating time on Sundays to write down deadlines for the current and following week in my planner, revising my notes after class, and asking my professors questions without prefacing them with, “This might be a dumb question but…”

Now, the bad.

According to my need to be the perfect student—and the curve—my exam grades. Fortunately, the growth mindset I’ve cultivated over the break reminded me that there will always be room for improvement. And when I feel stuck, with nowhere to grow, I know I can turn to my family and friends for support. I was grateful to spend more time with them over the holidays and to create lasting memories—like my dad failing miserably at UNO (a moment now immortalized in this post).

Finally, the good.

This new year—and speaking it into existence!

Like many curious law school applicants, I couldn’t help but fall down the rabbit hole that is r/LawSchoolAdmissions. As I prepared to submit my applications, I scrolled through the subreddit, hoping to find useful information. Instead, I was misinformed (a truly surprising outcome despite the forum’s infamy).

I expected law school to be a highly competitive environment. However, LLS debunked that myth before 1L even started. At orientation, I met classmates who not only shared in their excitement and expressed their congratulations but also were transparent about the anxieties they faced about starting their legal journey. And, when classes started, I found support from other students in my section as well as our professors! While Professor Nockleby validated our fears about cold calling, telling us that we “will fall on [our] faces” but will recover given our extreme talent and intelligence (his words, though paraphrased), my study group texted about how grateful we were to have him in our first semester at LLS in the same group chat where we anguished over legal research assignments, arranged study sessions that would be followed by celebratory dinners, and, on the day I write this, gave thanks for having each other’s companionship this past semester.

Knowing LMU was LLS’s parent school, I expected they would set a different standard for the type of education they offer. However, I didn’t expect they would also replace the typical law school’s cutthroat, competitive learning environment with a supportive, collaborative one. It certainly was a welcome surprise that I hope other students can experience.

To prepare for my first Civil Procedure class, I had to complete my Professor’s Intro Survey. To the question, “What is something that you love so much you will do it over and over?” I responded, “Watch Derry Girls.” However, my real response is “Doom scroll on TikTok.” When I had more free time this summer, I browsed through LawSchoolTok, TravelTok, and BookTok.

While some creators on LawSchoolTok emphasized how important it is to relax before 1L starts, others shared tips for resume writing and networking events. Both sides were satisfied when I volunteered to sort donations at The Midnight Mission in downtown Los Angeles every Monday. This once-weekly commitment allowed me to build community with those impacted by the housing crisis and contemplate landlord/tenant law as an area I may want to practice in the future while granting me enough free time to sufficiently “break” before school started. Towards the end of the summer, though, I increased my commitment and began volunteering as an English literacy tutor in the shelter’s education and career department every Wednesday.

From TravelTok, I learned the best places to visit internationally and locally. When I traveled to Puerto Vallarta with my mom and sister in mid-June, for instance, that side of TikTok led us to one of the best beaches we have ever visited, Conchas Chinas. When we returned to Los Angeles, TravelTok guided my best friend and me to different places and experiences that made me feel like a tourist again. We visited several coffee shops to determine which one made the best-iced matcha lattes (1. Meccha Matcha in Cerritos, 2. Coffee Code in Norwalk, and 3. Stereoscope in Long Beach), saw a gaggle of geese as we rode bikes through El Dorado Park, and enjoyed concerts at the Hollywood Bowl.

Finally, BookTok allowed me to rediscover my love for reading and stay on track with my Goodreads 2024 Reading Challenge. Before Garratt v. Dailey and Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 24, there was The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri and Men Without Women by Haruki Murakami. Although my reading this Fall was more academic than recreational, I have added many books to my TBR, or To Be Read shelf, that I plan on getting to after surviving (maybe even thriving) through finals, such as The Little Liar by Mitch Albom and The Eye by Vladimir Nabokov.

I first heard the term “double lion” during orientation from a graduate of both Loyola Marymount University and Loyola Law School and, ever since, I’ve aspired to join that pride.

My journey to become a double lion unintentionally began in Fall 2018 when I attended Loyola Marymount University. I did so for two reasons. First, my older sister graduated from LMU in 2015 with a Bachelor’s of Science in Biology and, as an annoying younger sibling who takes her family role seriously, I copied her—or, more politely, I followed in the footsteps of my lifelong role model. Second, LMU’s emphasis on the encouragement of learning, the education of the whole person, and the service of faith and the promotion of justice resonated deeply with my own values. While my sister inspired me to excel in the classroom as an International Relations major and Peace & Justice Studies minor, LMU encouraged me to go beyond the classroom and build community with the Marians Service Organization, the Alternative Breaks Program, and the El Espejo Mentoring Program.

After earning my title as “single lion” in Spring 2022, I started work as a behavior technician in applied behavior analysis. I intentionally stepped into this non-legal role before entering law school because of my interest in serving the underserved and mentorship experience that taught me the value of centering a student in their development. I had the privilege of working with children with autism at an early intervention program in Alhambra and an elementary school in Inglewood. And, while I taught them fine motor and verbal skills, they taught me how to push through the frustration of “getting things wrong,” by squeezing out a few tears or breaking to eat a snack before trying again—an important lesson as I approach my first law school finals. This challenging but rewarding experience also exposed me to the inequities surrounding neurodivergent student’s education and joined other legal interests I hope to explore in the next three years: post-conviction relief and eviction defense.

I plan to indulge these interests—by, hopefully, participating in clinics such as Juvenile Innocence and Fair Sentencing Clinic, Loyola Project for the Innocent, or the Shriver Landlord Tenant Clinic— and non-legal interests such as reading, traveling, and bust-a-gut laughing on my journey of becoming a double lion.