Finding Passion in Your Practice

by: Elizabeth Whipple, Staff Attorney, AVLF Domestic Violence Project

I don’t meet many lawyers who would ever choose to describe themselves as “passionate about the law.” I know a great many, however, who wish they could.

We all agree that you should do something you love, but finding that elusive something seems to be the trick. Many lawyers, in particular, seem to think they have chosen a career that does not allow for such a passion at all. I have heard countless lamentations from friends and colleagues who wish they were doing a vague something else over the concrete, but unglamorous, practice they have now.
How, exactly, do you set about finding out what kind of law you’re passionate about? Let’s face it – law school teaches you a great deal, but what it really means to practice law is not really covered. Job descriptions cannot really convey what a position actually entails, especially if the applicant has never practiced law. It’s all just words until you are thrust into the reality of a job. If only you could get that reality check before you ever left school… Oh wait. You can.

As a third-year law student, I was fortunate enough to participate in the first class of the Domestic Violence Legal Clinic at the University of Alabama School of Law. Under the auspices of the Third-Year Practice Act and the guidance of a supervising attorney, ten other students and myself represented survivors of domestic violence in divorces and custody cases in seven rural counties of Alabama. I participated in mediation, discovery, settlements, and hearings. I spoke Spanish with Spanish-speaking clients. I was exposed to the roller coaster of judges and courthouse politics in various locales. Before the one-semester commitment near its end, all but one of the eleven students in the clinic had petitioned the dean for permission to re-enroll for a second semester.

A significant part of my job now is supervising law students from Atlanta-area law schools who represent clients in court under the Third-Year Practice Act. Our office relies on these students to represent clients, and their ability to take on and manage cases is truly impressive. These students are practicing law, and few of their law school counterparts can claim similar exposure.

For some students, practical experience during or right after law school confirms a desire to continue doing similar or related work. It is a way to test and redefine what they want to do. I can say with confidence that the hands-on clinic experience clarified my career goals. I had gone to law school with the fuzzy notion of doing something with women and children’s issues, and after two years, I had decided family law would be my focus. But it was not until I began to practice in the clinic that I really learned what the practice of family law entailed. For me, it was a natural fit. As a result, I committed myself to the pursuit of a family law job, with a strong bent towards domestic violence issues.

For some, perhaps the experience more broadly influences their career decisions. Leslie Hinrichs, a recent graduate of the University of Georgia School of Law, says, after three months volunteering with the Domestic Violence Project while awaiting bar results, “I am starting to realize the practical benefits of a career in public interest law. Specifically, I'm starting to see that public interest jobs generally provide much more interesting work and a more relaxed, pleasant work environment than working at a law firm.”

For others, a practical experience may sway students in the other direction. One Emory law student had this to say about her experience representing clients seeking Temporary Protective Orders through the Domestic Violence Project at AVLF: “The nature of the work is different than I was expecting, not in a bad way, but in a way that I'm glad I know about now, rather than at my first job. I absolutely want to be a full time public interest lawyer, but I'm realizing through my experiences both with 3rd year practice act work and also with general DV work that individual advocacy may not be for me. “

In any economy, focus, goals, experience and confidence in what you seek to do is a boon. “As a third year law student, I feel like my experience at AVLF will give me a competitive advantage over other students who do not have similar field placement experience. I now know I will be able to competently represent clients in the courtroom, and that confidence will prove to be an enormous asset,” says Catie Fulton, 3rd-year law student at Emory. Catie is not alone.

The bottom line is that there is no substitute for real, practical experience, not just in finding a job, but also in enjoying that job once you have it. Whether that experience comes through a clinic, an externship/field placement, or a volunteer opportunity, direct contact with clients, courts and attorneys, practical experience is invaluable early in a lawyer’s career. I can say from my own experience and the feedback of people I have worked with that such experience can also plant the seed of desire to commit to public interest work, be it full-time or as a dedicated volunteer. And while nothing can guarantee you’ll find that sought-after passion, the insights gained certainly up your chances.

The Heart and Soul of What We Do!

By: Tamara Caldas, Managing Attorney, AVLF

Last week I answered a phone call from a woman in North Georgia who had just lost an eviction hearing and was ordered to leave her home in seven days. If she remained in the home after that time, she, her toddler, her 17 year-old, and all of their belongings would be thrown to the curb. She is a survivor of domestic violence. With help from the local legal services office, she had secured a temporary protective order that required her husband to provide some support for her and her children.

The husband’s check to her had bounced, which in turn caused her rent check to bounce. She was completely alone at the eviction hearing and hardly had an opportunity to speak in her own defense – a defense which, admittedly, would have consisted largely of a plea for sympathy: She had had every intention of paying her rent in full and on time, but her circumstances left her no choice but to rely for money on the good faith of a man who had already destroyed her sense of personal safety and human dignity by physically abusing her. The law and the legal process allowed him yet another way to damage her – losing her home.

Dispossessory law does not concern itself with why a tenant did not pay the rent, but rather that she did not. Even so, the outcome of this eviction may well have been different had this woman been represented by an attorney would have described her circumstances to the judge or negotiated for more time with opposing counsel. I took a deep breath as I swept away my feelings of dismay about how people experience our legal system. Although she lived 100 miles from AVLF’s service area, and it was not immediately clear that there was anything we could do to help her, I continued to listen and comb my head and my heart for legal options she might have.

Yes, this woman could file a motion for contempt against her husband in the court that issued the temporary protective order, but would that court have jurisdiction to stay the eviction? Even if it did, how could she convince the court to pay attention to her quickly enough to make this relief meaningful? Even if her husband were held in contempt, this did not mean he would immediately pay her the money she needed to pay the rent. She could appeal the order of eviction to buy herself some time, but the law requires that she deposit the full amount owed into the court registry in order remain in the house while the appeal is pending. But she still didn’t have the money to pay the rent and there really did not seem to be anything to appeal. I went on like this in my head even as I continued to listen to her voice getting higher and more strained. I know that sound – it is the sound of helplessness, anxiety, fear and exhaustion.

So I found myself turning from lawyer to social worker – pulling up what I had learned from our Domestic Violence project about safety planning. I asked if she felt safe, if she had anywhere else she could go. She had one friend who could take her in, but how could she get her stuff packed, moved and stored in just a few days? I found the number for the domestic violence task force in her community and asked if she had reached out for help. She had: they could take her and her daughter into a shelter, but not her teenage son. They could pay to move and store her belongings, but only if she moved into the shelter. She wouldn’t abandon her son. She finally asked if I would call the Governor to stop the eviction.

The story continues, and there may be some resources to which we can direct her through our network of partner organizations, but I’m not sure. I won’t be calling the Governor.

I tell this particular story, and not the story of a successful pro bono representation or a promising new project, because this is a largely unsung part of our jobs at AVLF as at so many non-profit organizations. We do not always have a quick answer, a legal remedy, a source of relief for people who call our phones suffering and crying out for help. Legal problems mix with financial and social problems in ways that we cannot easily untangle or solve. These phone calls and contacts with clients are part of the everyday challenge of our work. These voices are unscreened when they reach us – they are the voices of people in all of their raw emotion, and often we are the last or one of the last of dozens of places they have called for help. There are times that all we can do is be present and listen with compassion.

So, I want to acknowledge the work of the administrative assistants, paralegals and lawyers on the frontline of this work who listen with patience and active interest. Your work cannot always be measured in “outcomes,” but it is the heart and soul of what we do. Thank you for listening.