Svoboda: ‘Why did you want to go to law school?’

The most common question that I have been asked over the last three years is, “Why did you want to go to law school?” From my law school admissions essay to my graduation survey and every interview with a law firm in between, I have been asked to describe my journey to the IU McKinney School of Law. The truth is, I never imagined I would go to law school. I barely made it through high school.

In 2011, I gave birth to my first child, an adorable little boy. I was 16. I was in my junior year and one of six girls in my high school that year to become pregnant. Only two of us graduated. Our group was advised by the dean of girls that finishing high school would be difficult, if not impossible. We were pressured to transfer to the youths-at-risk high school in my town or to withdraw from the school and earn our GEDs so we could enter the workforce. Our school counselor parroted the same advice and told me that it would be easier if I stayed with my parents and worked on my GED.

Unfortunately, I did not have that luxury. Due to the tumultuous relationship I had with my mother during this time, I lived with my partner. I was not an emancipated minor, and that severely limited my access to the limited resources that were available in my town. After I decided to continue with courses at my high school and earn my diploma, the administration turned a blind eye to the pregnant teenager roaming their halls. I had no clue about what resources were available to me, how to find them or how to apply. My school did not employ a social worker, and the school counselor sent me to the local welfare office.

This little government building assisted people with SNAP (food stamps) and Medicaid insurance. I was immediately deemed ineligible. To apply for federal and state aid, I had to be either 18 years of age or be accompanied by a legal guardian and enter their financial information. It did not matter that I lived on my own, paid my own rent and received no financial assistance from my parent. I did not have the right legal paperwork. Subsequently, I gave birth to my first child without any health insurance.

It wasn’t until after my son was born that I first encountered the WIC program. I had never heard of it and was skeptical after my multiple rounds with the welfare agencies. When I applied and had my interview, I was told that the program was broken into two parts: food assistance in the form of vouchers for mothers and formula vouchers for their infants. My application as a mother was denied. My son’s was approved. In the eyes of the law, it did not matter that his parent was 16, only that I was there and could sign on his behalf. My own earned income was now enough.

For a long time, WIC was the only assistance that flowed through my household. When I turned 18, I applied for and received health insurance. Day care was out of the question due to expenses, so I relied heavily on my partner and out-of-school friends to help while I finished high school. Despite the odds, I managed to graduate with honors, and I was accepted into a couple colleges. I enrolled in a few general education courses after I graduated, but I quickly realized that I had not developed a passion for any kind of career. Most high school students get the opportunity to delve into various subjects, ask questions of working professionals and seek career guidance from the school staff. My opportunities came in between doctor’s visits, my child’s colic and swing shifts.

I withdrew from college in the middle of my second semester. A couple years later, I became pregnant with my second child. This pregnancy was pure, unadulterated bliss. I was able to apply for pregnancy-related insurance and support services. My provider was able to send me lists containing dozens of other resources that I had no idea existed. I was in tears, and not just because of the hormones. Access to any of these resources two years prior would have made such a difference in my life. Looking back, it was at that moment that I decided to go back to school, although the actual enrollment happened nearly three years later.

When I enrolled at a community college in my hometown, I never dreamed that the end goal would be law school. I wanted to work in health care administration and send out resources, or maybe work as a school counselor where I could directly help those who found themselves in my position. During my studies, a retired judge was assigned to me as my academic adviser, and through some subtle — and sometimes not so subtle — pushing, my schedule became centered around the law and politics. I started attending local hearings, and I witnessed individuals be given a voice through their lawyers. The more I saw, the more I learned, the more I knew that I needed to be that advocate — that the biggest catalyst for change in my hometown would not come from handing out resource guides but from being the resource.

I have strived during law school to honor my past and align those goals. I have contributed over 300 pro bono hours during my three years at IU McKinney in various settings: through the Marion County Prosecutor’s Office, the IUPUI General Counsel’s Will Initiatives Program and the Civil Practice Clinic. I have counseled and advocated for dozens of individuals in my short tenure as a law student with the assistance of some pretty amazing advocates themselves.

No one acted surprised when I told them I decided to go to law school. It was never the goal. It was never my dream. It was never supposed to happen. I am in the less than 2% of teenage mothers who go on to complete a four-year degree. I could not find a statistic for how many teenage mothers go further, earning a master’s degree or a juris doctor. So when I hear the dreaded, “Why did you go to law school?” question, I usually show a picture of my 13-year-old and smile.•

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Anne Svoboda is a 3L at the Indiana University Robert H. McKinney School of Law. Opinions expressed are those of the author.