We Need To Start Talking To Law Students About Depression And Suicide

At long last, we have arrived at the third and final post of my "Coming Out Trilogy."

As promised, I want to focus this post on the role my struggles with depression and anxiety have played and continue to play in my interactions with my students, both in and out of the classroom.

Usually about two weeks before the end of the semester - when I see the strain of writing papers and the approach of final exams beginning to take a toll - I will put the civil procedure issue of the day on hold and tell my story. I don't prepare them for this in any way, I just start class by saying, "There is something that I need to talk to y'all about today." (Although if they start googling me after this I guess the cat will be out of the bag).

The story I tell is generally that which appears in Part 2 of this "Coming Out Trilogy," although it is often a bit more haphazard as it is still much easier to write about this subject than talk about it. I often get choked up at least once, usually when talking about suicide (though I have managed to avoid this once or twice). There are usually at least a few people with freely flowing tears by the end and many stunned looks. [Writing this, I realize that, to some degree, I set my students up and then, intentionally, shatter their perceptions of me. While I did not set out to do this and think that establishing my bona fides at the outset of the course is pedagogically important, I do believe that it makes the discussion of my mental illness and the challenges of practicing law more impactful in an "if that can happen to Prof. Clarke, it can happen to me" sort of way.]

I then segue into some of the statistics cited in Part 1 of this series and talk about the scope of the problem with depression in the legal profession. I explain that I know many of them are having a hard time handling the stress of law school given the workload, the competitiveness, their "Type A" personalities and perfectionist tendencies, and the like. I bluntly tell them that if they think being a 1L is hard, they ain't seen nothing yet.

I tell them about the challenges of practicing law including, among other things, taking on the emotional baggage of clients' problems; the inherent competitiveness of the adversarial system; the joys of dealing with unreasonable opposing counsel; the fact that someone must lose in litigation; the impact losing may have on a client's life; the nature of the billable hour; the difficulty of billing 1,900+ hours a year; the unrealistic expectations many of them may have about being lawyers; the common narrative that "success" as a lawyer is dependent on having a "Big Law" job and making partner/member/shareholder and the profound unlikelihood of these happening; the lack of boundaries and the need to be "on the job" 24/7/365 (especially in a big firm); and so on.

I discuss a truth I have known for many years (and for which I now have empirical support), namely that making a lot of money is ultimately not the thing that, for most people or most lawyers, makes them happy in life or satisfied professionally. I caution them about the materialism that is common among lawyers and the dangers of measuring happiness by the make of your car or the size of your house (a point made illustrated this morning in an ABA Journal blurb). I challenge them to think about why they came to law school and to identify what it is about the law that really turns them on (professionally). I encourage them to find a way to follow that passion, because they will be better lawyers and more satisfied professionally and personally if they do so. [See K. Sheldon & L. Krieger, Service Job Lawyers Are Happier Than Money Job Lawyers, Despite Their Lower Income, Journal of Positive Psychology, vol. 9, pp. 219-226 (2014).] I tell them that, for many lawyers (including me), finding a balance between work and life is difficult thanks to, among other things, technology and to be cautious of always being plugged in. I talk to them about the importance of boundaries (a concept with which I still struggle).

While many of these issues are old hat to us, they come as a revelation to many students. Many still come to law school simply because they did not know what to do with their B.A. history and have never contemplated what about the law (if anything) really interests them. [I encourage these folks to seriously reconsider whether they should be in law school]. Many have never thought that there were other career paths than in a big law firm and many are convinced (by their peers, by popular culture, by the internet) that success as a lawyer means being a rich partner in a big firm, and nothing else. Many are shocked that they have only somewhat worse odds of winning the lottery than making equity partner/member/shareholder in a big law firm.

I answer questions and let the conversation go where the students lead it for about an hour. Then we get wipe our eyes, blow our noses and get back to civ pro.

I have done this little song-and-dance at least ten times now and every time I do it, it has a significant impact. I have had many students (looking sort of shell shocked) tell me that they had no idea that anyone else had felt or thought the things they had felt and thought, but which I articulated during class. I have had students come see me a semester later or even two years later (so far) and tell me that by talking about my issues, it gave them the strength to get help for their own depression or anxiety issues. I have had several students seek me out in times of crisis and asked me for help. Many students have sought me out to talk about career paths and even whether they should stay in law school. The bottom line, however, is that every single student I have ever talked to about these issues has appreciated - above all else - my openness and honesty, not only about my illness, but about the challenges of being a lawyer.

Beyond this in class discussion and the one-on-one discussions that flow from it, I also participate in a number of student events each year dealing with mental health, career paths, work-life balance and the like. I am active with the Lawyer Effectiveness and Quality of Life Committee of the N.C. Bar Association. And I have both planned and spoken at continuing legal education conferences about these issues.

Now, not all law professors are as messed up or as glutton for punishment as I am. However, each of us - regardless of background - can start a dialogue with students, either in or out of class, about the importance of mental health, the dark side of being a lawyer, and the need of students to make conscious, intentional and meaningful choices regarding their futures. These discussions are critical to the long term well-being of our students. As I said in my opening post, our students need us to be brave and be honest.