I’d only just wrapped up undergrad when I got into law school. That single phone call changed my life; I’d become the first in my family to pursue a law degree. This new chapter felt fresh and exciting, but also full of unknowns. Everything began with the move to Miami, one of the liveliest but most expensive cities in the U.S. The costs slowly started adding up: rent, food, gas, and on top of all that, tuition. My law school was supposed to be one of the most affordable in Florida, but there are so many costs outside of tuition that no one warns you about.
There are textbooks and study supplements that somehow cost as much as classes. Then, endless blazers and dress shoes for interviews and moot court, because your college wardrobe doesn’t cut it anymore. And don’t forget about the security deposit and moving costs just to get to campus in the first place. By the time you add up gas and tolls for the internships and clerkships you need for your resume, the sum is a full-on jump scare.
My 1L schedule didn’t leave any room for a steady job or paycheck, but my expenses didn’t slow down either. The slow accumulation of small bills weighed on me way more than any individual purchase could.
I never really grew up thinking about my money thanks to my parents, who worked hard to build a life for my sisters and me. So this was the first time I had to navigate anything entirely on my own, from being the first lawyer in my family to figuring out loans by myself, and I felt alone on the path that lay ahead.
The summer after 1L, I took on an in-house, unpaid internship over an hour away. I needed the experience, but I also needed to survive. I was actually LOSING money going there, between the tolls and the gas. But I was determined not to let finances stop me from chasing my dream of becoming an attorney. Through it all, I learned a lesson that I may have needed all along.
Surviving law school meant becoming intentional with money in a way I never had to be before. For me, that meant getting creative about how I made income while in school. I had to shift my mindset from just trying to survive each semester to planning for the long haul. The one thing I wish prelaw Ruby had known was not to think semester by semester, but to think about the entire journey ahead of me: the move, the clothes, the food, the unpaid summer, the self-care, even. And when it comes to loans, think about what borrowing strategy actually supports the life you want, not just the current degree.
Once I had that mindset shift, I realized that many loan options are built for an archetypal student and don’t really account for individual scenarios. They present you with a single flat number that doesn’t account for your program, your timeline, or the fact that your 1L summer might not pay you a dime. That’s part of what led me to explore College Ave’s graduate student loans, a financing option tailored to your specific program and career timeline rather than a one-size-fits-all number. They give you the flexibility to check your rate without affecting your credit score, explore various repayment options, and even have a separate bar study loan for that post-grad gap.
Now, as I prepare to enter 3L, I’m grateful to know resources like College Ave exist for people with stories like mine, helping grad students map out costs and understand their financing options before the unexpected hits. Understanding the costs of law school doesn’t ruin the experience; it just makes you feel clearer going in. Every student deserves to chase their dream without being blindsided by the cost. I may have been the first in my family to attend law school, but I won’t be the last. And because I took the time to actually understand what I was walking into, the ones who come after me won’t have to figure it out completely in the dark.
