Tens of thousands across the country face them time and time again. Hope and despair, rinse and repeat.
You endured the onslaught of “aww… you got this” and “I’m sure you passed!” for weeks and months.
Anxiety, excitement, uncertainty squirting into your heart every time you thought of the moment of truth. Waiting is the hardest part. Uncertainty is being locked in a padded room alone with delusions of hopes and worries.
Then… the ruthless truth. This is the result of all your work, condensed into one screen. It has declared that your efforts were not enough.
Maybe for the first time, a humbling moment. Maybe not your first time, even more painful.
How do you face your family and friends? How do you face yourself?
You “trusted the system.” What needs to be changed?
Ever wonder what you’re doing with your life? How you even got into this mess?
And by life, I’m talking about California essays (and performance tests) that seem to need a beautiful mind to unravel. Because that’s your life now. It should be. I’ve been there. So has Gabrielle:
(If you’re taking the MEE or another bar, you may want to stop reading when you get to the table of contents.)
Part of why the written portion of the California bar is so difficult is what they demand out of your essays. The hypos are dense and packed with a landmine of issues for you to figure out under constant pressure.
This is one of several reasons why the California bar is considered the hardest bar exam in the country. This isn’t up for debate. You can try, but I will win.
Cooking wasn’t one of my strengths. If you asked me to cook for you, you were risking becoming a permanent resident of the toilet.
There are all these unfamiliar steps involved. Get the right amount of ingredients from outside my cave, process each ingredient, follow an alchemical procedure to put together something that looks edible. And then the worst part—clean it all up after.
I’m not sure if it’s the onions that made me want to cry.