At the beginning of the summer, I was ready. I had a whole plan mapped out.
My Original Plan
- Build my school list.
- Start prepping for the LSAT.
- Start drafting my personal statements.
- Reach out to potential recommenders by August.
- Take the LSAT in September.
- Start/finish applications as soon as I get my LSAT score back.
- Get my applications in before Thanksgiving, preferably by Halloween.
- Start getting responses from schools and comparing them.
- Choose a school by March.
- Commit to a law school by May.
That was my original plan when I made it back in June, and even when I reviewed it this August. I was researching scholarships, making color-coded spreadsheets, comparing clinics and bar passage rates like it was a research assignment for a data analysis course. It felt good to be decisive for once, like I was finally stepping into the future I’d been working toward for so long.
As usual, life did what it does, and it started life-ing. I got overwhelmed with some personal situations, classes picked up, work got hectic, and my mental health took a hit. I kept trying to push through, but every time I sat down to work on my law school materials, I felt drained. I wasn’t unmotivated by any means, but I was tired. I was exhausted in that bone-deep, soul-encompassing way that most students know too well. That moment when your brain commands you to “Get it done!” but your body begs you to “Please rest.”
So, I took a pause on the applications this month. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent break, but it was long enough of a pause to realize I needed to reflect on my options and be honest with myself. After several weeks of thinking it over between and during classes, before bed, and while out with friends, I’ve decided that I’m not applying to law school this fall.
It’s not because I don’t want it, or because I’ve given up on my childhood dream to become an attorney and author. It’s because I want to go into the grad school chapter of my life as prepared and present as possible, not burned out and behind before I’ve even started. To be frank, I’ve been in school since I was four years old, and I’m 21 now. That’s 17 years of non-stop learning in a school environment. I’m burnt out and need a break, even if it’s just a year or two.
Now, I’m shifting gears. I’m focusing on gap year jobs and post-grad roles that align with what I care about: advocacy, justice, and community. I’m still planning to take the LSAT, finish up my personal statement, and prepare all my materials. I’m still actively building toward that dream, but I’m giving myself a longer runway to get there. Although this wasn’t my original plan, it feels like the best step to take right now.
I know I’m not the only one. A lot of first-gen students feel like we have to move fast, that if we don’t keep up, we’ll fall behind for good. But let me tell you, taking your time isn’t failure. Postponing something doesn’t mean you weren’t serious about it; it means you’re taking care of yourself and building with intention, not desperation.
If you’re rethinking your post-grad plans right now, I get you. If you feel like everyone else has it figured out and you’re still trying to keep your head above water, you’re not alone. We’re all just doing our best with the resources we have, and sometimes the best thing you can do is choose a pace that honors your humanity and meets you where you’re at right now.
I know I’ll achieve everything I set out to do post-grad, but I’m also learning to believe in my right to do it on my timeline, not a forced one I set based on others’ timelines and expectations of me. No matter your identity or path, I hope you know that you have that right too.
– Toni <3