Mental Health Lessons from Law School
My daughter has lived in a different city for a few years now, but as a law student at Dalhousie University in Halifax three time zones away, she was clearly “away from home”. As the COVID-19 pandemic was growing wings and news changed every five minutes, I worried about my girl on the other side of the country. I literally cried with gratitude when I read an email she received from one of her professors as the school was quickly closing. Here’s a summary of that longer email:
Some of you are away from your families, you may be confused, sick, you may have to leave your residence, you may not have access to internet, you may wonder how you will complete your classes, you may not have support. Please let me know, write to me, we will figure this out. I am available, now is not the time to be shy. Write to me!
I was profoundly grateful for this professor’s actions and empathy for her students, but not surprised. At the beginning of the term last fall, profs began the semester with a discussion around stress, suicide rates of lawyers, and mental health. They acknowledged challenges students would face; each teacher iterated consistent messages: you are here, you belong, your mental health is a priority, be kind to yourself, we are here for you, we want you to succeed, your grades are secondary to your health.
I was pleasantly surprised by these messages as I don’t typically associate the law profession with leaders in mental health. Secretly I wondered if these messages would turn out to be lovely but flimsy ideals, vanishing when the going got tough.
By October, as my daughter settled in and began to feel the mounting pressure, the words became actions. On the phone one day she recounted: “I walked into class and written on the board was the statement: I’ve been at law school for one month and I feel ______. Our prof told us to fill in the blank, then go around the room and talk to others about their answers.” “What did they say?” I asked. “Overwhelmed, exhausted, in over my head, like an imposter, like I can’t do this.”
I guess I was totally bought into the stereotype of lawyers since I was stunned (and also ecstatic) that they would devote lecture time for a conversation about emotions. After the class, the obvious happened: students started feeling less alone, more able to connect and support each other. They shifted from “I need to do this by myself (and I don’t know if I can)” to “Others feel like I do, we can support each other.”
In our sudden global climate of uncertainty, leaders across all industries are scrambling to manage huge challenges in health, education, economic and financial systems turned upside down. My request is that you consider following the examples of my daughter’s law professors.
Difficult as it may be, take time from the chaotic schedule to talk about emotions. Reach out to members of your team who are trying to implement new ways. Ask how they are feeling. Anticipate feelings of being overwhelmed and in distress. Borrow the conversation starter: “Week two of COVID-19 / social distancing and I am feeling ________." In these conversations, we can remember that we are not alone, we can ask for help, offer support and keep each other healthy.
To my daughter’s law professors: thank you for caring about the emotional wellbeing of your students and for making it a priority at school. Words can’t express my gratitude.