Cold calling and confidence: learning what battles to fight in law school

 "Speak softly and carry a big stick"

I was recently watching a home movie recorded by my mom of my first grade class's show-and tell. It was my turn to get up in front of the class to share what I brought (a plush figure of Hello Kitty's friend "Pandapple" for anyone wondering) and why. As I began to share, the audio of me speaking wasn't picked up. Instead, my mother's video camera captured the voice of another parent remarking "I can't hear her" and my mother quipping back assertively saying that she could.

I'm probably not the typical person most people think would go to law school. I've been called "quiet" for as long as I can remember, constantly being told to "speak up" throughout my formative years. The culture accompanying  higher education and law school rewards those who confidently raise their hands with questions and follow-up hypotheticals. The boisterous are well-represented in this profession that rewards those who have no problem commanding the attention of a room.

Although this correlation of personality and profession might seem intuitive to some, this was not a connection I had made prior to my arrival at King Hall. As a first generation law student, my conception of lawyers was limited to the media I consumed. Truthfully, I had no inkling that the idea of "cold calling" would be something I would actually have to live through.

I got lucky my first semester. My professors were abnormally kind and gentle with us baby 1Ls. We were able to "pass" on a cold call without negative repercussions and incorrect answers were brushed over, delicately corrected so that peers could not decipher just how far off you really were. I distinctly remember one of my professors told the class that although he was planning on cold calling, we could email him and remove ourselves from the list completely. I resisted the urge (which was blaring almost to the level of a survival instinct) to do so. When my time came, I was terrified but prepared.

Second semester, professors began to expect more from us. The combined weight of professors' academic expectations and the need to prove myself to my peers was crushing. I attempted to placate my anxiety by preparing for any question that could come my way, spending hours preparing for any class session in which I could potentially be called on.

When finals came around, I realized just how much this cold call preparation had been an inefficient use of time. I had nothing to show for the countless hours I spent preparing for questions that never came. Rather than spending the semester to understand legal reasoning or improve my legal writing, I had spent it learning unimportant dicta as a means to combat my anxiety.

This was a mistake I had to make on my own because I had nobody to warn me. The term "First and Only," coined by Alejandra Campoverdi's memoir, highlights how isolating the journey to higher education can be for first generation students. As the First and Only in my family, I expect to make keep making mistakes that non First and Onlys don't have to. Instead of having a lit cobblestone path to follow, it feels like I'm trudging through the woods, fighting beasts of my own along the way. 

As other students have touched on in their blog posts, being the First and Only is often accompanied by many battles, including feelings of inadequacy and imposter syndrome. How we deal with these feelings can be make-it-or-break-it. This is all the more ironic when you consider the unique challenges first generation students face in addition to the actual material they must learn. Despite displaying higher levels of resilience, this study found that first generation students have demonstrated lower levels of emotional intelligence than their non-first generation counterparts. 

Going into 2L I knew changes had to be made. Rather than neurotically worrying about knowing all of the answers to a potential cold call ahead of time, I needed to focus on my understanding of the material. With that understanding, the answers would either come or they wouldn't, but I'd be fine either way. I had to learn how to trust myself and let go of the fear of being judged- after all I wasn't internalizing anyone else's performance. 

I am still the same person I was doing show-and-tell in the first grade. I tend to speak softly and I prefer not to speak in front of a crowd (I plan on staying far, far from a courtroom). In addition to the substantive material I've learned from law school, I have also learned a lot about myself and the ways I can become a better "me" than I was yesterday. I know there are more beasts in the woods for me to fight as I pave this path forward, but I'm no longer afraid of them.