Trailblazer tolls: risks, rewards, costs, and benefits

Over the last week, I've been thinking a lot about the "blindfolded cliff jumping" metaphor Alejandra Campoverdi continuously uses in her memoir. Campoverdi uses the term to refer to the experience first-generation students have in breaking educational barriers. The phrase is meant to evoke feelings of danger, adrenaline, and possibility.

We all have different tolerance levels for risk. While I would never be personally comfortable taking on the level of risk Campoverdi describes in her journey to D.C., going to law school is still a risk. Choosing to be the First and Only in your family to pursue a higher level of education is daunting for a number of reasons. 

Being the First and Only in your family to go to law school is an intimidating financial risk. According to a survey conducted by the American Bar Association, the median amount of debt taken on by a law student is $112,000. I'm willing to bet this amount trends higher among First and Onlys, who often don't have the same familial wealth many other law students do to fund their education, nor do they have the same access to merit scholarships.

Honestly, I didn't realize the extent of the potential for debt coming in to law school. Or, I may have realized the extent of the debt but figured everyone graduating law school was handed out fancy, high-paying jobs immediately after graduation. 

Although the six-figure median salary ($106,744 in CA) for first year attorneys is a figure that would have impressed me previously, I'm not sure it is enough to justify the cost of law school. In fact, according to Education Data Initiative, an organization that provides research and resources to tackle the rising costs of higher education, less than half of new law school graduates say their education was worth the cost. In other words, the six-figure salary that might appear plentiful on the outside comes at a literal cost. 

Blindfolded cliff jumping isn't the only trailblazer toll. Being the First and Only also means you must leave home. Saying goodbye, even if it's temporary, is no easy thing to do. In order to pursue higher education, many of us are forced to leave our social support systems -- our friends and families -- that helped us get here. This affects us, but it also affects them. 

A few days ago, my best friend back home told me that she was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Her test results were released to her, online, a day before her doctor's appointment. She opened them and told me what they said. The next morning, she had to walk into that appointment alone. That killed me.

Because I live four hundred miles away, there was nothing I could do. I wasn't able to hold her hand; I wasn't able to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay; and I sure as hell wasn't able go with her to that appointment.

This isn't the only time I have dealt with this type of situation. In the middle of the second semester of 1L year, my dad became unwell after a surgery. He lived alone, so I left Davis and the demands of law school to take care of him for the weekend. This decision affected my performance on my midterm exams, which were the following week. This was not even a consideration in my mind when I decided to leave, but that decision had consequences. Following the exam, I visited the professor's office hours to talk about my concerns. She told me to leave my worries about home behind. To not look back. To not engage or worry about anything going forward that isn't law school. But how could I possibly do that?

The guilt that accompanies leaving the ones you love can be paralyzing, especially when you're not able to be physically present during their time of need. The demands from home don't stop, even if we are hundreds of miles away. "Hillbilly Elegy" demonstrated the conflict between the competing needs of career advancement and the health and safety of family members. When Vance got the call that his motner had overdosed while he was at a networking event, his sister pleaded with him to come home. Vance dropped what he was doing and made the hours-long journey home to pick up the pieces. 

I wish I could have done more for my friend in her moment of need. I wish I could have dropped everything and gone to that doctor's appointment with her. But I didn't, and I feel guilty for that. Ultimately, she is going to be okay. The survival rate for the form of thyroid cancer she has is nearly 100%. That the odds are in her favor, though, does not detract from the fact that I wasn't able to be there for her when she needed support. 

Is this fair? Probably not. I guess none of it is. Leaving home is hard, and leaving home when you know your friends and family need you is even harder. Although this conundrum is not unique to first-generation students, their friends and families may be less understanding of their geographic departure an inability to provide constant support. I'm not sure where the balance between being a good student and a good person lies. What do we owe those who helped us get to where we are? Not just because we owe them, but because we love them. 

Defining and appreciating my "village"

Most people have heard the following phrase: "It takes a village to raise a child." This expression is thought to have originated in Africa and attempts to convey the importance of providing a safe and healthy environment for children to grow up and thrive in.

The "villagers" in a child's life can be their parents, siblings, friends, school peers, religious leaders, or other community members. Each of these social connections can add richness into a child's life and provide a positive influence on the child. 

In my humble opinion, it also takes a village to send a child to law school. 

Receiving an acceptance letter to law school is the culmination of completing an undergraduate degree, studying and taking the LSAT, requesting letters of recommendation, writing personal statements, and submitting applications. Each of these steps require substantial time and energy, and can often lead students feeling emotionally drained. 

Michael Sandel notes in his book entitled The Tyranny of Merit that those who achieve success in a competitive meritocracy are "indebted in ways the competition obscures." In other words, our personal success can be attributed to other factors or people outside of our own doing and hard work. 

In an effort to shine light on those who have supported me on my journey to law school, I want to take a moment to highlight people who I would consider myself indebted to.

My Mom and Younger Brother: My Anchors

I could very easily spend an entire blog post dedicated to describing the support my family has given me. Suffice it to say, I owe so much (if not all) of my success to the love from my mother and little brother.

My mom has been a public school teacher for her entire career, has spent time teaching at the graduate level, and holds a Master's in Education. Her background led her to always push me and my brother to take advantage of education at every step in our lives. When I was accepted into an elite liberal arts college, she took on a second job teaching English to Chinese students via Zoom to help pay for my tuition.

Her sacrifice to help send me to college is one I think about every day. Without her support, I would have never been able to attend a top college and receive an amazing education. On top of it all, she has loved me through thick and thin; she is my biggest fan, my best friend, and the best person I know. She demonstrates to me what it means to work hard, never give up, and always be there for the ones you love. All of the traits I like about myself come from her and I always want to do my best so she is proud of me.

My brother has always served as a calming presence in my life. I admire his cool-headed demeanor and the positive perspective he can provide. He never fails to make me laugh and his kind, sensitive heart serves as my reminder to always stop and smell the roses.

It is difficult to find the right words to encompass all of the gratitude and love I have for them. All I can say is "thank-you" and I hope they know they are (and always will be) my biggest source of strength.

Friends: Past and Present

As those with great friends understand, there is nothing better than knowing you have a group of people cheering you on no matter what.

Prior to law school, my friends were nothing but supportive of my journey to becoming a lawyer. Although many of them were unfamiliar with the process or never attended an elite academic institution, that never stopped them from listening to me discuss what it would be like to be an attorney and encouraging me to chase my dreams.

My friends in law school have also been a steadying force. Law school breeds a competitive environment, but I have never once felt ashamed, belittled, or nervous to share any of my struggles. In fact, I always turn to them when I am facing a challenge I am not sure I can overcome because I know they will push me to do my best while also providing me with a safe space to share my feelings. Law school can be exiling at times, but I feel fortunate to have friends who never make me feel alone.

Extended Community: Mentors in the Legal Field

A common piece of advice many 1Ls receive upon entering law school is to find a mentor within the legal field. Mentors can provide students with their own lived experience as an attorney, act as a sounding board for the student, and give their advice on how to navigate challenging or confusing situations while in law school and beyond. But for First and Onlys, seeking a mentor can prove more difficult compared to students who enter law school with pre-established connections. 

I was fortunate enough to meet my mentor during the spring semester of 1L. One of the required courses first year law students must take at UC Davis is "Lawyering Process" and my mentor was the designated supervisor for our section. I connected with her because of her practical approach to her career and her passion for helping her clients.

When I was struggling to find a job last semester, we met at a coffee shop and she shared her story about job searching right out of law school. She reminded me to rely on my scrappiness and to stay resilient, just as she had done years ago. 

Job searching in law school tested my determination, but the support I received from my mentor reminded me that everyone faces setbacks at some point in their career. Her words of advice have continually stuck with me and constantly serve as a reminder that I can make it through tough situations as long as I stay committed. I will forever be thankful for her encouragement.

Gratitude and Appreciation

It is clear to me that my success and achievement is the product of all the love, support, and encouragement I have received from the "villagers" in my life. Without them, I would not be the woman I am today. I have so much gratitude and appreciation for those who have poured into me and I hope that I can make them proud as I continue down my path.

Finding a way home

I firmly believe that we all belong somewhere. We belong to those who are part of our history. It is impossible to think of oneself without thinking of our family, friends and places that saw us grow up. Even when trying to define ourselves we instinctively think of our origins. That's what lets us know who we are.

Being alone in a country far away from your own leaves you a lot of time to think. It seems strange to me, however, that it has taken me just over 22 years to understand the meaning of the words my mom used to tell me when I was little (paraphrasing "The Little Prince" which used to be her favorite story and she read it all the time to me and my brother)...:

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eyes."

Only now I can realize how right she was (I guess it's kind of true that moms are never wrong).

How ironic life is, maybe even a little cruel, because I understand it now. Now that I am almost 5000 miles away. Now that what I miss most about my country is not my house, where I had a room to myself, nor my car, much less going out to eat at expensive restaurants or having my mother to do the cleaning and cooking for me. I always thought those would be the most difficult when I came here to study, but honestly I haven't even thought much about any of those memories since I arrived in California.

Now, if you ask me what I really miss about Chile, I don't have to think extensively about it, the answers are clear. I miss with all my heart hugging my mom and having her make me feel like everything is okay, just like when I used to run into her arms after kindergarten. I miss going to my aunt's house on Sundays and cooking a mariscal together as a family and staying there until we have once together. I miss sitting with my cousins at the bonfire they have in their backyard and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I miss watching my soccer team's games and even the euphoric screams of my dad and brother. I miss arriving home and having my dog, Tomás, waiting for me so we can go for a walk together. I miss going out with my friends to do nothing and laugh about life. I miss feeling part of a community. I miss the people of Chile and lo muy de piel that we are. And yes, it took me a while, but I finally understood that what is really important is not seen, but felt, right in the chest.

The first picture is Tomi wearing our soccer team shirt and the second picture is me walking with Tomi.

Erica Violet Lee points out that we must redesign the word wealth from our experiences. When I read it I thought nothing had ever made so much sense to me. I always thought that to be rich was to have a car, a big house and a great job, but now that I think about it, I had all that in Chile, and I never felt happy or different because of it. Maybe, if no one told us what it meant to be rich. Maybe, we would live in a utopian world there was no capitalism and its prevailing ideas of what success or wealth is. Only then could we each give it our own definition, we would finally realize how lucky we are and that money has nothing to do with it most of the time.

I delusionally thought that I would be "happier" in the United States and at the same time I was afraid of feeling very different from my peers. This can be attribuited to the standard of living in a developed country being very different from many Latin American countries. However, on the contrary, my experience here has made me realize how truly rich I am and my people are.

Crucially, Lee points out that she no longer wants to spend time and energy on making her intellect more readable for the university. This is something I emphatize with, I've spent years striving to get here to achieve "success", which will eventually lead to wealth. I have spent so much time and effort searching for something that didn't really belong to me, because that's not my definition of abundance, at least not the one that fulfills me.

Now I contemplate my experiences growing up, and think that if I had understood what my mom meant when she read "The Little Prince" to me as a child, I would have done so many things differently before I left Chile. I would have taken care to give my mom tighter hugs, to stay a little longer at the table on Sunday with my family, to extend the conversation at the bonfire with my cousins, to enjoy the games and even the euphoric shouts of my dad and brother, to take longer walks with my Tomi, to enjoy laughing and even doing nothing with my friends.

Maybe I would have understood that, for me, being rich and feeling rich has to do with belonging to a place and its people, as I belong to them, and they belong to me. Undoubtedly, the right way to see is with the heart.

*Once: once refers in Chile to a light dinner or evening snack that consists of coffee or tea, and bread with butter, cheese, marmalade, or other accompaniments.

*Ser de piel: literally means being made of skin, but in Chile means when a person is affectionate, likes to hug and have physical contact with others. Someone who likes to cuddle others a lot to show their affection.