Arriving at BC Law this past August brought a rush of excitement. I’d known I wanted to be a lawyer all of my life, and had been building toward this step for just as long. After growing up on crime- and law-themed TV shows like Law & Order, I completed two legal internships in college, wrote my senior honors thesis on a legal topic, and worked at a personal injury law firm for two years after graduation. So when I was admitted to the so-called “Disneyland of Law Schools,” it was an answered prayer—like a dream come true.

To my great pleasure, BC Law really has been a dream come true. The “Disneyland” description is definitely on-brand: I’ve already made close friends, my peers are incredibly kind, my professors are thoughtful, and the affinity groups have been endlessly supportive. I love it here. 

But I also came into BC Law with a resounding warning: 1L is hard. Whether it was mentors who wrote my recommendation letters, attorneys and law clerks I worked with at my old firm, recent law school grads in my friend group, or current BC Law students I spoke with before arriving, everyone said the same thing: “1L is very challenging, and you will be very busy.” I distinctly recall a 2L who said candidly “Nothing is worse than 1L” during the LAHANAS retreat that preceded 1L orientation.

I tried to heed and prepare for that reality before the semester began. I frequently reminded my family and friends that once law school started, I’d be extremely busy and probably hard to reach at times. I warned my roommates that I may not have time to hang out or grab dinner during the week. But I didn’t truly understand just how challenging 1L would be until the semester began ramping up—when the novelty wore off and the workload took over. What’s been most challenging for me isn’t the content of our doctrinal classes or readjusting to student life. Instead, I’ve struggled intensely with managing my time—or, more truthfully, with accepting how little of it I now have.

September 22 was my dad’s birthday. I was just getting out of class when my mom texted me that she was taking him out to dinner. “Aww, I want to go,” I replied. She offered to come pick me up at school.

Ugh, I thought to myself. Her proposition left me unsettled, and I had a mini existential crisis. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to join them, though. I’m extremely close with my parents and thoroughly enjoy their company—I call them at least twice every day. I would’ve loved to celebrate my dad’s birthday with them. But I struggled to accept her offer because I simply didn’t have the time. It was Week Five, and I already felt buried by my workload. I’d fallen behind on Civ Pro, hadn’t started my Contracts readings for the next day, and needed to make progress on my Law Practice memo, to name a few. I knew that if I went home that afternoon, I’d lose a night of work. That thought—and the burden of falling further behind—was petrifying. Still, after some encouragement from my friends, I gave in and said yes.

“Do you want to drive?” she asked when she arrived at my apartment. Normally, I never let my parents drive if I’m in the car—but I had too much work to do. Instead, I told her I should catch up on my readings, and she proceeded to drive us fifty minutes home while I sat with my iPad. 

I hadn’t been home since the start of the semester, and even though it’d only been a month, pulling into my driveway on that sunny afternoon flooded me with nostalgia. I lingered outside for a while, taking in the peace and tranquility of my backyard and reminiscing about the cozy nights we’d often spend by the fire pit. I sat on my bed in my room of twenty-three years, recalling the solace of collapsing there after a long day at the firm and turning on my TV to relax in my safe space. And I teased my parents about how they’d managed to survive a month without having me around to fix their technology hiccups. I’d give anything to spend the night, hang out with my parents, and sleep in my bed again, I thought. But I couldn’t. I had so much to do and had to get back to law school—back to the grind, of course. 

We then drove just eight minutes away to Olive Garden. As our appetizers arrived, we were laughing and joking around as usual, including about how Olive Garden gets such a bad rap. The food tasted fantastic—pure comfort food—just like when we came in June for my birthday. In that moment at the table, I felt at peace, having such a wonderful time with my parents, just as we used to. The opportunity to simply hang out with them in the midst of being busy with law school felt so refreshing. 

This peace was short-lived, however. Beneath that laughter, I struggled to quell my swelling anxiety about all the work waiting for me. I tried—and really wanted—to live in the present and enjoy the moment. But I grew increasingly uneasy, feeling guilty for spending time with my parents instead of studying. Most crushing of all, I felt devastated that I couldn’t enjoy peaceful moments like these anymore. I no longer had time to spend with my parents because law school kept me so overwhelmingly busy. 

With all these unsettling thoughts brewing in my mind and disturbing my peace, just before our entrees landed at our table, my mom innocently asked, “So, Dave, how are you doing? How is law school?” I hesitated and only replied that it was good—and with that, I started to unravel, knowing full well my answer was a lie. I became jittery in our booth—swaying, leg shaking, eyes fixed on the ceiling in an attempt to distract myself from the inevitable. But my fighting was futile; I was losing the battle against my churning emotions. My mom resumed joking with my dad, but it wasn’t long before my eyes started to well up and she picked up on my restlessness. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, watching me with concern. Vigorously fighting back tears, I managed to say that I was fine. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore; the dam was breaking. I finally gave in and fully broke down. I sobbed, completely inconsolable in my seat. 

As someone who’s always tried to stay composed—or “zen,” as one of my professors had described me—I didn’t expect to cry like that, but I couldn’t stop myself. It all felt completely beyond my control. Of course, this was just as our server was dropping our dinner, to my embarrassment. Yet there I was, crying just as hard as when my grandfather had died five years earlier. My mom switched spots with my dad to sit next to and console me, pleading with me to tell her what was wrong. “I miss hanging out with you guys,” I managed through my tears. “I miss having the time to come home and see you. I miss moments like these. You’re my best friends, and I hate not having any time to spend with you.”

I hadn’t meant to break down—especially not in public and at my dad’s birthday dinner. But that night, through tears and guilt, I finally understood what everyone meant when they warned me about 1L. For me, the hardest part isn’t the cases or the workload; it’s the loss of time with the people and things that ground me.

My parents handled my breakdown as gracefully as they could, assuring me that they were there for me whenever I needed them. In the days that followed, my sadness lingered, but I pulled myself out by reminding myself what I’d said back in August: BC Law is my dream come true, and becoming a lawyer is the ultimate one. Achieving my dreams requires resilience, determination, sacrifice, and yes, the surrender of time. Of course, I do still feel that ache sometimes—the longing for rest, for home, and for the version of life I had before 1L. But this path was never meant to be easy; growth rarely is. 

Still, that night taught me that perseverance isn’t only about pushing through—it also means knowing when to take a moment to breathe, care for my own state of mind, and spend time with the people I love to restore the strength I need to keep going. Each morning since, when I wake up and face another day of readings and deadlines, I pick up my cross and push forward. Because faith, perseverance, and purpose aren’t built in comfort; they’re built when we keep walking, even when it’s hard. When I step onto campus each morning, I remember why I’m here—every page, every class, every late night is a step toward the life I prayed for. That reminder keeps me moving, even on the hardest days—as does the knowledge that I can always go home again and hit pause, if only for a night.

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Dave Sainte-Luce is a 1L student at BC Law. Contact him at sainteld@bc.edu.