The power of the word

I recently commented to a professor that it seems I have to “work twice as hard to learn half as much,” which is not a complaint but just a matter of fact. This is not true, and I wondered where the comment came from. I am not half as smart as my classmates, just twice as old. Frankly, I am amazed that these young people know, at the age of 22, what they want to do for the rest of their life. At 22, I did not.

I remember taking some standardized test in high school that could forecast whether you were college material. At the appointment to review my test results, the evaluator said that I would do well in blue collar work or possibly as a secretary. Basically, I was told that I didn’t need to waste time and money trying to go to college because it would be “too much” for me. Why amass all of that debt to simply fail?

So, what did I do? For many years I followed the course of action set out for me by this test and evaluator. (Surely they were smarter than I.) First, I worked in a fast food restaurant and worked my way into management (woo hoo!). Then I attended the local community college and earned a degree in secretarial science (graduating with honors, Mr. Test Evaluator). At 21 years of age I was perfectly happy to have achieved all that I was able to do (as per the test results). Fortunately, the evaluator didn't have the last word.

When I went to work as a legal secretary (in 1985), my boss was a young sole practitioner named Tom Barwick. At the time that Tom hired me I was working as a secretary at the local country club. It was a mindless job that basically entailed typing daily lunch menus and party contracts, totaling receipts, and making reservations. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do (as per the test results) and was apprehensive about working for a lawyer. But, he was young and nice (and a friend of my husband’s), so the switch was made.

From the first day Tom didn’t just give me work to do, but he made me part of his team. We were a team of two, so I was expected to do more than mindless work. I was expected to think and do. He didn’t just want me to know about the files, but to know about the law. After less than a year of working with him, I vividly recall the conversation we had one day while traveling from an interview, when he mentioned to me the possibility of attending school to be a paralegal. Obviously he didn’t know my test results, and I didn't dare break the news to him. With his support, I completed the paralegal degree (graduating with the highest GPA in my class) and worked for many years alongside him. As a matter of fact, we joined a firm, developed a niche, and worked together for 15 years.

Shortly before he left the firm in 2000, we had another memorable conversation late one afternoon in his office where he encouraged me to go to law school. This wasn't a flippant remark made to boost my ego, but a serious conversation about changing the direction of my career and life. He knew that I could do it. He wanted me to try. I could say that he planted a seed, but the seed was already there. All he did was water it and give it some sunshine.

From that day on a plan was set in motion. There were things that I needed to do before I could ever complete law school, like finish my bachelor's degree (Summa Cum Laude). It was almost six years after this conversation that I stepped into Day One of law school orientation. But Tom Barwick brought me here figuratively just as assuredly as if he had driven the moving van. In spite of the evaluation of my test results, I graduated from college at the top of my class, and I am nine weeks into year one of law school.

For Christmas this year I’d like two gifts. One, I’d like to find and frame those standardized test results from high school. Two, I’d like to give Tom Barwick a hug. Both are testaments to the power of the word.