My “last first day” of classes was Monday, January 12, 2026. At the time, this felt more procedural than profound. Since the first day of orientation, I had heard the saying: “The first year they scare you to death; the second year they work you to death; and in the final year they bore you to death.” However, as I progressed from my first year to commencement, it became clear that there are hidden financial and emotional costs that come with becoming a lawyer.
Like many students, I entered law school focused primarily on academics. I was quickly introduced to the need to attend networking events, join student organizations, and secure internships as early as the first summer. Each step introduced new expenses, such as casebooks before classes even began, professional attire for interviews and conferences, and travel costs for networking opportunities. These expenses accumulated quietly but quickly, often outside the scope of financial aid.
Academic pressure added another layer of challenge as a first year student. After receiving my first midterm grades, I found myself comparing my performance to that of my classmates, which increased my anxiety about falling behind. Guidance from upperclassmen and faculty helped reframe my perspective, emphasizing the weight of final exams and the importance of adjusting study strategies. Even so, the competitive environment persisted, particularly during the search for summer internships. Many positions I applied to required transcripts, and without early offers the uncertainty became worrisome. I was fortunate to secure a paid role as a tele-counselor in my law school’s admissions office. Though outside the realm of traditional legal practice, it provided financial stability and insight into the administrative side of legal education.
By second year, the professional and networking expectations heightened. Increased involvement with bar associations and student organizations was essential for building connections, often alongside unpaid internships. During the spring, I interned with a district attorney’s office to explore criminal law. While valuable, the role required a regular commute and out-of-pocket costs, which I covered with personal savings. That summer also brought preparation for a required professional exam, which added another cost to an already expensive path.
The pressure peaked during my last year. I frequently fielded questions about post-graduation plans, such as “Do you have a job lined up?” Despite submitting numerous applications and proactively reaching out to attorneys, responses were limited. At the same time, the financial realities of entering the legal profession came into sharper focus. Bar preparation courses cost thousands of dollars—an expense I was fortunate to avoid through a leadership role, though most students are not. Bar application fees, which vary by state, are often substantial. Compounding this is also the transitions to loan repayment.
As you can see, the path to becoming a lawyer is not defined by the LSAT ((Law School Admission Test) score, admission and tuition alone. It also includes the costs of opportunity, persistence, and resilience. ■