This guest post was written by Melanie Barber, a second-year student at BC Law.
In the fall, I participated in BC Law’s Civil Litigation: Housing Justice Clinic. I enrolled in the clinic because I was personally motivated by the work. I (like many Boston-area students) have collected my fair share of landlord horror stories and I relished the opportunity of holding landlords accountable. I also wanted to strengthen my understanding of civil procedure, which was not my strong suit when I took it as part of the 1L curriculum. Most importantly, I felt a growing obligation to use my legal education to critically consider access to justice issues.
Before our first seminar, my professor asked us to read an essay from Atul Gawande’s Complications. In this essay, titled Education of a Knife, Gawande reflects on his experience as a surgical resident learning to place a central line. He writes of his self-doubt and mistakes. It was an interesting read, but I remember thinking: what is my professor trying to suggest here? I am only a 2L trying to navigate the first few weeks of Evidence and Professional Responsibility. My professor isn’t going to throw me into a trial, right?
The Housing Justice Clinic is designed to expose student-attorneys to a high volume of various legal and social issues. I was assigned two full-representation cases that I worked on throughout the semester. My fellow clinic students and I also staffed a Lawyer for a Day program in Metro-South Housing Court. This was a “triage” program where we quickly interviewed pro se tenants who were present for first-tier events (i.e., mediations), trials, and motion hearings, and provided limited representation by advising these tenants on their options.
Prior to law school, I worked as a transactional paralegal. I became very comfortable with taking direction and completing tasks according to a supervisor’s agenda. The clinic experience was a complete role reversal. My professor would often joke that he worked for us. Translation: it was time to start thinking for myself. Each student was expected to progress our cases, thoroughly research issues, and come to weekly supervision meetings with an agenda and a list of solutions for legal challenges we encountered. We would discuss potential solutions with our partner and professor and after a group brainstorming session, were expected to decide how to proceed. Of course, if I were heading down a completely wrong path, my professor would have stepped in. But short of a full U-turn, I was in charge.
While I am happy to report that I did not get thrown into a trial, I did feel what Gawande calls the “halting” and “humiliating” tax of clinical education. My friends can attest that when they asked how I was doing last semester, I would often reply something like, “Oh you know… clinic….” Perhaps my bad hair days and large coffees were a tell. In almost every client interaction, I struggled with self-doubt. How was I expected to make the right decision when I didn’t even understand all of the nuances of housing law? I was just a measly law student! I often felt like an imposter who was about to be exposed. Over time, I learned to quiet my inner critic, and I did grow in confidence as I researched issues thoroughly, practiced my arguments, and bounced ideas off of other students in my clinic.
At the close of the semester, my professor asked us to reflect on our successes and moments that we would do over. My do-over moment was easy to select, and hard to re-live. In early October, I attended a mediation with my client. As I reflect on that morning, I recall that my thoughts were focused on what I should say, where I should go, and how I would avoid messing up. When I saw my client at the courthouse, I greeted her, and we chatted briefly. However, I was so preoccupied that I did not pause to really consider how the morning was affecting her. If this event was intimidating for me, how much more intimidating must it have been for her? I regret not creating a more meaningful space for my client to share how she was feeling.
As I progress in my legal studies, sharpen my skills, and grow in my confidence, I will seek to always remain client focused. It may seem like a platitude or a checkbox, but it is a high call for a lawyer. To each client, we owe diligence, empathy, and a sincere listening ear. How much more so for a client for whom justice seems like an unaffordable luxury?
Melanie Barber is a second-year student at BC Law. Contact her at Barberme@bc.edu.
BC Law: Impact 