Two weddings, a funeral, and a naturalization ceremony. This pretty much sums up my time in law school, in many ways. I lost my dad suddenly at the end of my 1L Spring semester (during finals: really wouldn’t recommend). During my 2L and 3L years I had two weddings: one in the U.S. and one in the U.K., where I grew up and my family still live. (For the sake of clarity: these weddings were to the same person. I’m nothing if not consistent.) And after having lived in the U.S. since 2016, I became a citizen in February of last year.

Of course, my time in law school was marked by a great deal more. But, when I think back to my time at BC Law, these are the progress points—the proverbial highway markers as it were—that map out the last three years for me temporally. These events were the points at which “life” most intruded into law school. Law school is all-consuming in a way I do not think I fully comprehended before I began my 1L year. I had worked for five years before returning to school, including three and a half years in a high-pressure role in New York City. But nothing prepared me for the way that law school threatened to take over and take me away from my sense of self. The death of my father, marrying my wife, cementing my life over in the U.S.: these were the events and the life-is-what-happens-to-you-while-you’re-busy-making-other-plans moments that burst the illusion of the bubble of law school for me. 

They were also the moments where I felt the most supported and loved by my friends in school. When my dad died, numerous members of my 1L section sent me their outlines (many completely unprompted). Countless other BC students—including some I had barely spoken to—reached out to check in and offer whatever support they could. Dear friends from law school were guests and part of my groom’s party at both of my weddings. And the memory of signing my Certificate of Naturalization while surrounded by some of my closest friends from law school is something I will never forget. I think it is this kindness that I will ultimately most associate with my time in law school. 

If there is one message that I (with the creaking, wizened limbs and failing eyesight of an aging 3L and soon-to-be-graduate) wish to impart on other students, it is ultimately this…law school (and the legal profession more broadly) can socialize you into a particular way of thinking and being. At its best, the law can often be uniquely cold and unfeeling: with callousness frequently masquerading as objectiveness in the abstract world of legal policy debates. At its worst, it can be overtly violent. The high pressure and competitive environment can encourage you to hoard and gatekeep rather than share. It can also breed insularity and disconnection, rather than collaboration and partnership. Against this backdrop, to be a law student that is kind, loving, and affirming is its own unique form of radicalism and resistance. 

It also opens up an entirely new world of possibility and potential for you. The most magical moments of my time in law school have been those when I’ve been supported by other students in ways that enabled me to become the best possible version of myself: making it possible for me to transcend my own self-imposed limits to meet the potential that others saw in me even when I didn’t see it myself. These were moments such as late nights in the Civil Rights Clinic working on briefs in support of class certification where other students forced me to elevate my writing and research skills. It was my neuro-divergent, stuttering self arguing a Supreme Court case in front of a panel of nine SCOTUS “Justices” in Professor Greenfield’s Supreme Court Experience class. It was being elected Law Review Editor in Chief as a first-generation, person of color law student having not even known what law review was before starting school. This kind of self-development and growth cannot occur when you are an island. Rather, it requires vulnerability, a willingness to lean on others, and—most importantly—a commitment to kindness and supporting your fellow law students.

Life (and law school) is about choices. You get to decide what kind of person and what kind of lawyer you want to be. Charles Hamilton Hughes, the first general counsel of the NAACP, described the job of a lawyer as that of a “technician probing in the courts, which are the products of the existing system, how far the existing system will permit the exercise of freedom before it clamps down.” I like this quotation because, for me, it is an exhortation to constantly try to push the limits of what is possible even when you are operating within a system that is diametrically opposed to your goals. This exhortation applies to law students just as much as it does to lawyers. To my fellow students: think expansively about your position and role as a law student and the way you can support and lift up others. Use the opportunities and experiences given to you as opportunities to democratize the law, increase access to justice, and create pathways for others to follow in your footsteps. Think about how you can be a positive force for others, show compassion, and be a good friend. Above all, be kind. 

Other law students truly helped me to become the best possible version of myself. And if you let them, they can do the same for you. Aging 3L and soon-to-be-graduate signing off…

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Jonathan Bertulis-Fernandes is a third-year student at BC Law. Contact him at bertulij@bc.edu.