I have to make the right choice. That’s what I keep saying to myself as I mull over where to begin my legal education. I have to make the right choice because I have always made the “right” choice.
Four years ago, I chose UW-Madison for my undergraduate education because I could pay in-state tuition and I made the dance team. It was the obvious next step. I would go to the University that both of my parents went to, attend the football games that I had grown up attending, continue dancing, and not be too far from home. I have never regretting making this choice: I am so thankful I got to be a Badger for the past four years. But, reflecting back, I realize that the the choice to attend UW was the logical decision, the easy next step. The path of least resistance. The right choice.
In fact, I have always tried to make “the right choice”. I have to get stellar grades and an impressive internship so I am accepted into the right law school and make the right amount of money. I have to workout every day and look a certain way so I have the right appearance. I have to maintain a social life and be in the front of the routine so I maintain the right image to outsiders. I have to, I have to, I have to.
I’m not sure where this compulsive thinking comes from – maybe hustle culture or girl boss society or the patriarchy. (joking but also a little serious). It’s also probably just me – I have always had this intense pressure to be and do the right thing. I’m sure many readers can relate. Don’t we all want to do the right thing?
Now, as I contemplate my future, I feel this urge. It’s like that urge you get when you are approaching a red light and you feel a flash of desire to accelerate through it, just to see what happens. It’s an urge to make the wrong choice. I think I’ve always felt this urge, buried deep in my core. But lately, it’s becoming more persistent. So persistent that I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Let’s back up a bit. How did I end up here?
Well, first I decided I wanted to go to law school. That was the easy part, after I realized my “dream” of becoming a doctor was not what I actually wanted to do after all (Yes, I was the pre-med freshman that dropped her science classes after one difficult chemistry course).
Then I had to apply to law schools – which is more difficult than it looks when you have no clue where you want to go. So, I applied everywhere. And I mean everywhere. UCLA, University of Washington, Colorado, Fordham, Iowa, GW Law… 15 schools in all. I wanted to have options, I told myself. Then the acceptances started to come in, and as happy as I was to be admitted, I was now faced with the monumental task of actually choosing a school.
Then something sort-of… weird happened. One day in December I woke up to an email announcing that I had received a full scholarship to Iowa Law. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I literally had to ask my boyfriend if I was reading the email right. A rush of emotions washed over me – first disbelief, then happiness, then uneasiness. Why was there a rock in my stomach, I wondered. Why was I not overjoyed? This was it. I had achieved what I had worked for, a free education. My choice was made for me. This was the right choice, the only choice.
Looking back, I now know that rock in my stomach was the urge to go against everything my brain was telling me. Logically, Iowa made sense. It is ranked high and I wouldn’t have debt. Simple as that. But, I need something else. I needed to take a risk. I needed to go against all logic and reason. I needed to avoid the path of least resistance and follow my gut.
At the risk of sounding completely and utterly cheesy, I knew in my heart I couldn’t go to Iowa. As much as I love Madison, I yearned for something new and exciting, something different than a smaller midwestern cities. I wanted fresh experiences, interesting people, and an energetic, bustling environment. I was stuck in rut I had created for myself, the rut of least resistance, a rut that didn’t present challenges that would force me to grow.
Before I knew it, the deposit deadline had arrived. I found myself laying in my bed the night before deposits were due, torturing myself with internal debates. After months of research, discussion with alumni and students, and HEAPS of pros and cons lists, I still couldn’t force myself to make a decision. I still felt like I had to make the right choice. In my head, Fordham Law wasn’t logical. Fordham was risky.
Fordham was not the right choice, I thought to myself.
Suddenly, it became clear.
Fordham was the wrong choice, which is exactly why I had to make it.
All my life I had chosen what I thought I should do. I chose the paths that would “make the most sense” because they were the least risky decisions.
Right then and there, I decided I needed to make the wrong choice.
After all, no risk, no story, right?
DISCLAIMERS: I realize I am in a HUGE, GIGANTIC place of privilege to be able to make this choice, or even attend college in the first place and I realize I am so so so lucky to be in the position that I am. Just trying to share my personal experience. 🙂
Also I am realizing that going to law school in and of itself probably doesn’t seem that “risky” or “wrong” or revolutionary to most people! I am not Chris from Into the Wild or anything. Maybe I’m over thinking this… probably.
Grace in the City 