Earlier this week I spent nearly an hour on the phone with a prospective student.
He wasn’t looking for an easy way out. In fact, just the opposite. He was already working two jobs. The problem wasn’t that he was afraid of hard work. The problem was that neither job was taking him where he wanted to go.
For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to become a lawyer.
As we talked, he explained the dilemma. One of his jobs was in the evening, which meant he couldn’t attend Lincoln’s classes unless he found different employment. That wasn’t a small obstacle. It meant changing jobs before he could even begin law school, with no guarantee that everything would work out the way he hoped.
By the end of the conversation, I realized we hadn’t spent much time talking about admissions requirements or tuition. We had spent most of our time talking about life.
His situation wasn’t unique. The details were, but the conversation wasn’t.
Over the years I’ve met people who were raising children, caring for aging parents, supporting a spouse, rebuilding after a layoff, or simply trying to keep up with the demands of everyday life. Every one of them had a different story. Yet they all found themselves wrestling with the same question, “When is the right time to do something I’ve wanted to do for years?”
It’s a reasonable question. Major decisions deserve careful thought, especially when they affect the people we love.
What I’ve noticed, though, is that life rarely pauses to make room for our ambitions. One challenge gives way to another. The circumstances change, but there is always something competing for our time, our attention, or our sense of security.
That doesn’t mean we should ignore those realities. It does, however, make me wonder whether we’ve been asking the wrong question. Instead of asking whether this is the perfect time, perhaps we should ask whether this is a dream that has earned the right to be taken seriously.
Some interests come and go. Others have staying power. They resurface at unexpected moments, refusing to disappear despite the practical reasons we keep giving ourselves to wait.
I’ve learned to pay attention to those dreams.
About the Author
Mary Fuller is Dean and President of Lincoln Law School of San Jose. Before entering legal education, she served as an electrical engineer, attorney, corporate executive, entrepreneur, and public servant. She has experienced firsthand how legal education can create opportunities for career reinvention and professional growth.
