Today in class, I received a message that spoke to everything I've tried to convey regarding the practice of law. It is both eloquent and simple. This message was the commencement address to the graduating law class of 1993 at the University of Arkansas. When Arkansas lawyers are sworn in, they are given a copy of this speech. Most do not take it to heart. I want to live by it for the rest of my life.
Although I do not want to post the entire speech here, I would like to touch on a few of the most important points as they relate to how I view the practice of law. You can find the entire speech
here.
[T]omorrow, my friends, the slate is wiped clean again. Prospective clients don't inquire about class rank. The local bar association you will join does not have a special class of membership for law review staffs. Judges and jurors will not ask to see your resume.I think when we get caught up in the rush of law school, we forget to make connections. Though I did not make law review and my resume is summarily unspectacular, this is a message of hope, and hopefully it is not too late. While numbers seem important in the long run, and while your GPA may seem like the most
pivotal thing in your life right now, it's important to reflect on the future. A future where your GPA doesn't denote your passion for the law. Possibilities that exist regardless of your positions (or lack thereof) during your tenure at law school. And an opportunity to show your value in another way--beyond the numbers, the subjective scoring of a law school exam, and the pressure to excel academically at any cost.
You will be evaluated instead by your product, your energy, your temperament and your backbone. The reputation you develop for intellectual and ethical integrity will be your greatest asset or your worst enemy. You will be judged by your judgment.This speaks to ANY job, EVERY career, and applies to your personal life as well. Exercise sound judgment, treat others with respect, and, most importantly, treat yourself and your career with respect.
Each client is entitled to your best effort. Practice law with a heart. The clients you represent will remember you long after you have forgotten their names. While routine for you, what you are doing for them may be the most important thing in their lives. For most, you'll be the only lawyer they will ever come into contact with, and they form their perceptions of our justice system and your profession on how you treat them as a person and the quality of your work. Practice law with consideration and courtesy. No matter how righteous the cause or clear your victory, assure that your adversary with his or her client leaves with dignity.This is especially important to me. I feel that far too many lawyers view their clients as something less than a person. As if their personal matters were somehow less significant because of the money involved, the fears they may have, or the relatively little value they may receive from their case. My professor emphasized this point as well, and was right on the money when he said "The practice of law is a trust. It is a fiduciary relationship. Clients will put their money, freedom, children, marriages, and their emotions in YOUR hands (that’s trust and they are trusting you). Our job is to maintain and serve that trust." Don't forget that for most, the practice of law is scary. It's foreign. It's a completely different language. This isn't to say we should feel superior to those we are counseling. Instead, we should view this as an opportunity to educate. I honestly feel that most of the frustration borne from a attorney/client relationship results from a lack of communication and ability to treat it as a learning opportunity--maintain their dignity, treat others with respect, and respect the law.
He speaks also of family, making time for those around you, and of public service. I cannot emphasize enough how important public service is to the community and for your interpersonal growth. Although he only touched briefly on this subject, I feel that your satisfaction in your job and as a person are a direct correlation to the life you lead OUTSIDE the realm of practice:
[I]t won't be enough for you to make all the money you can. No matter how successful you are financially, your professional lives will be unhappy if you do not devote some measure of your task to improving your profession and your community. You can do good and still do well.
Encased in these words of wisdom was also a message of warning:
I cannot make this point to you too strongly. There is no victory, no advantage, no fee, no favor which is worth even a blemish on your reputation for intellect and integrity. Nothing travels faster than an accusation that another lawyer's word is no good. A judge who catches you in a disingenuous argument or a mischaracterization of a case will turn hard of hearing when you next show up to argue. Dents to the reputation in the legal profession are irreparable. Every lawyer I know carries around a mental black book which is recorded in indelible ink the names of his adversaries who breached the presumption of good-faith dealing.
Perhaps the most poignant statement in this entire speech is this:
You will have failures and disappointments. Take comfort in knowing that opinions of those who really matter will never be as forgiving of your failures or as admiring of your victories as they are at this stage of your career. This statement is both uplifting and incredibly sad, as the man who gave this speech--Vincent Foster--committed suicide less than two months later in Fort Macy Park in Washington, D.C. I cannot help but wonder if he was able to draw comfort from those whose opinions mattered, or if the voices of those whose opinions didn't matter drowned out their words and support.
This message is one of hope, inspiration, and ultimately, regret. It is an incredible message to open oneself up to the possibilities, and a lesson in applying these words in more than a figurative context. We must all strive--not only as lawyers, but as people--to help those around us. Though no one is without fault, admitting these faults, accepting consequences for your actions, and choosing the high road should not be an option, but rather, a way of life. Mr. Foster's suicide did not diminish the value of his words--it served as a devastating example of how people get caught up in the game--even to a point where they feel ending their life is a reasonable alternative to facing the music.
I hope Mr. Foster found peace. I hope others live by his example and learned from his decisions. And ultimately, I hope, as Mr. Foster did that you
see your potential to restore a sense of community, to use your talents to help others and to be fulfilled.