When I was 12 years old, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. I was bullied as a kid, so I wanted to be someone who stood up for others—a voice of the voiceless, for the voiceless.

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Little did you know, in order to be a lawyer, you need to have good attention to detail—I mean, excellent attention to detail. You see? A lawyer's weapon is their words; they are masters of the English language. That was not something I was necessarily prepared for.

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I struggled with the LSAT a lot. I spent almost 2 years studying for it, and failed most of the time. My first score was a 142, and my fourth score was a 160, far from below what my target score was: 166+. Hadn't I tried everything? 

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I had to get a tutor to help me, and as she was explaining the answers to me, I'd often not understand where she got her answer from. When I asked what her diagnostic was, she said "167". I-, I mean, alright. I realized at that point that just because you had a good score, it doesn't mean that you're going to be a good teacher. From that point I raised my standards: I don't just want a 166, I want a 170.

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I had one more chance at the January administration (application deadlines, and running out of attempts), and I took it.

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I remember the morning of score release. I didn't want to think about it. I knew it releases at 6:00am, but I chose not to set my alarm and sleep through it, because every other time I ended up crying and frustrated with myself. Little did I know, my body naturally woke itself up at 5:55am. I literally had no choice.

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I put my blanket on top of my phone before showing myself the score. From right to left, I slowly reveal my score and I had the best celebration I ever had: a guy punching his pillow in happiness at 6:00 am in the morning. There's a certain level of fulfillment you get when you put your mind to something, struggle yet persevere, and finally succeed. It is my honour and pleasure to be able to help you feel the same emotions I felt—relieved, happy, and grateful to not have given up.

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