A LAWYER’S CHANGE OF HEART
By Atty. Janina Salazar Fernando
“Ayan, may puso ka na!” CESS told me. A curve on her lips manifested and later developed into laughter. I was pleased.
“Yehey, may puso na ‘ko!” I was kilig. My eyes glittered. I kept the smile on my face for a few seconds and stared at the monitor. May puso na ako, I whispered to myself. My existing smile grew an inch.
CESS uttered it when I submitted the final draft of a Motion for Reconsideration I was working on. The day before that, I gave her my first draft. She came into my room and handed me back the pleading with her revisions. She explained the notes spilled all over the pages of my draft.
Her opinion always matters to me. I respect her in so many ways. I didn’t want to appear mediocre in her eyes. That is why when she turned to face me again, after having taken a few steps toward the door, I froze. I knew the conversation wasn’t over.
“From reading your pleading, I noticed walang passion. You were sort of detached.” She said it with such sincerity and patience.
Embarrassed, I bobbed my head, “Yes, ma’am. I am. Halata pala?”
It was obvious that something more had to be said.
“Alam ko you don’t want to be a lawyer, pero nandito ka na. Lagyan mo naman ng konting,” pausing in search for an accurate word, “puso.”
She was laughing but I can feel that it was meant to hit a spot. I smiled until it hurt.
“It looks like a research paper. Your arguments are okay. Pero parang wala kang sympathy for the client. And it shows in your pleadings. You’re supposed to be an advocate. You should be a little more sympathetic.”
My head was still bobbing. I stared with wide wondering eyes. She was absolutely right.
She said it was normal for a young lawyer to struggle. Then she told me what she does when writing her own pleadings. She said since my research was all done, I should stay away from my draft for a day - allow the passion to brew overnight. Then, start writing again. So I set the pleading aside and went out for dinner.
I have to come clean. It was beyond dispute, and I made it known the moment I passed the 2007 Bar Examinations. Every inch of my body resisted the idea of becoming a slave to law. Yet, I always knew it’s inevitable.
“You have to follow the footsteps of your parents,” I heard over and over as a kid. I eventually gave up dreaming my own dreams and gave in to theirs. At 11 years old, I found myself asking my parents at the dinner table what a petition for certiorari was. My mom gave me a “grave abuse of discretion” verbatim explanation, as if talking to a freshman law student. Pretending to understand, I chewed on a pork chop tidbit I put in my mouth.
I was doomed to be a lawyer. The arrival of my law school application form confirmed it. I filled it up. I took the entrance exam. Next thing I knew, I was lining up to pay for my freshman tuition - the commencement of my ultimate sacrifice.
Law school can be an emotional, mental, and physical roller coaster ride for an average 19-year old. These were my years of tears. It was, for most of the time, plain hell. I was never an honor student. All I had was a name to live up to.
When I decided to quit during my junior year, all I could think of was this: Another day spent in campus and my sanity would give up on me. So I took a leave.
But I returned. I came back focused. At the age of 24, I took the 2007 Bar and passed on my first attempt. It’s inevitable. Failure was never an option.
One might wonder why I subjected myself to torture when I could have taken a different path. Well, I did it out of fear.
My greatest fear is failure. Failure as a law student, as a lawyer, and essentially, as a daughter. Becoming a lawyer is the only way I know how not to fail as a daughter. It was the least I can do. My parents gave me everything I needed and wanted that was within our means. Just like them, I’m more than willing to give up everything for my family.
My parents’ shoes, however, are too big to fill. It’s even harder walking around wearing them. Both of them serve our country as members of the judiciary. The dilemma was that when people asked how it felt to be a lawyer, my eyes start welling up and I end up screaming, “Ayoko nang maging abugado! Hindi ito para sa ‘kin!” Imagine the shock (or pain) on my parents’ faces the first time they heard me say that in front of their friends.
All throughout my 26-year existence, I try to act in accordance with what was expected of the eldest child and only daughter so they will never be disappointed. Strength was a mandatory attribute. My fear was never apparent to a stranger’s eye.
Nevertheless, I refuse to be unhappy. Acceptance is the key, I tell myself everyday.
Misery made me numb. I have come to accept that lawyering will always be part of who I am. It was logical to acknowledge that, at least.
From acceptance, circumstances improved. Blessed with mentors like ACP and CLC, the partners in the firm who actively helped me fight the urge to surrender, the days became tolerable. When I find real reasons to keep up the fight - like the “may puso ka na” comment from CESS - I stop resisting.
It doesn’t hurt so much now to face each day, such that when my friends see me and ask, “Attorney! Kumusta sa work?” I can smile and say, “Okay naman. Steady.” And it wouldn’t have to be a lie.
When inspiration attempts to subsist with the practice of law, I allow it. Then Wilson Philips starts singing in my head, “Someday somebody’s gonna make you wanna turn around and say goodbye. Until then, baby, are you gonna let them hold you down and make you cry? Don’t you know things will change. Things will go your way. If you hold on for one more day, things will go your way.”
Primarily, I hope for passion to resurrect. I have a strong suspicion that the law school violently murdered it. I want to be a hot, young lawyer – a phrase that will only apply for a couple more years. Eventually, I can only try to qualify as a hot lawyer. But, for that representation to be accurate, I must also prove that I am worthy of being called a lawyer.
That morning, I started reviewing the pleading I thought was finished. What initially began as a sentence developed into a paragraph. I had doubts on the acceptability of the final draft. But I was trying to give it a little heart. I sighed at the mush that yielded the celebrated comment.
“Ayan, may puso ka na!” Her words played in my head all day.
The resistance notwithstanding, I do have a heart. It used to be broken.
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