(Taking the December LSAT? Or just want to hear how it all went down? Sign up for my December 2017 LSAT Post-Mortem, here.)
I'm so goddamned lucky I can hardly stand it—at least, that's how I feel when I stop to think for a moment.
This week, I wrapped up my LSAT classes in both Los Angeles and San Francisco after a very busy fall. I juggled classes in two cities, plus my online program, and a steady stream of one-on-one tutoring. I rebooted my website, managed revisions on all six of my books, and spent more time on Southwest Airlines and I-5 than a doctor (especially a psychiatrist) would recommend. I whined and complained, like everyone else. (Probably worse.)
But this week I'm flooded with gratitude that I get to do what I do, coming from where I come from. My grandparents survived the Dust Bowl and Great Depression by moving to California from Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Kansas in search of work—hard, hot, backbreaking work—to support themselves and their families. My grandpa Herb was illiterate, a teenage father, who rose before the sun for 50 years to provide opportunities that I easily take for granted. Neither of my parents have four-year degrees.
I'm honored to work with such bright, earnest students. I'm wildly fortunate to make a living with my brain rather than my back. I'll do a bunch of one-on-one tutoring between now and December second—slots are still available, here—but I'll also take a breather with friends and call my grandparents to say thanks. I hope you'll do the same.
No matter where your people come from, I'm sure you have similar stories. As an LSAT student in 2017, you are one of the most fortunate people who have ever set foot on the planet. Even if you're poor by modern U.S. standards, you're still one of the richest people who have ever lived. Maybe this can put your LSAT struggles in perspective. Take a deep breath. It's all (Thanksgiving) gravy from here.