Law students are accustomed to being measured. Their LSAT scores, undergraduate GPAs, class rankings and summer associate offers become markers along a carefully constructed path toward professional success. For many, the pursuit of a legal career has been a succession of competitions, each promising that the next achievement will provide some measure of security, recognition or satisfaction.
Then they graduate.
The practice of law has a way of dismantling even the most carefully constructed expectations. The student who excelled at spotting issues on an examination may struggle to deliver a well-phrased brief to a difficult partner. The law graduate accustomed to praise may encounter client feedback that is considerably less enthusiastic. And the young lawyer who imagined a career defined by lofty intellectual challenges may discover that the vast majority of the day can be consumed with petty disputes waged by irrational clients.
None of this diminishes the value of academic achievement. Legal knowledge, disciplined reasoning and intellectual curiosity are indispensable. But after more than three decades practicing law, I have come to believe that three other qualities deserve considerably more attention than they receive in conversations about professional success: resilience, receptiveness to feedback and a clear sense of purpose. These qualities are not substitutes for legal competence, but they do allow competence to mature into judgment, credibility and leadership.
Resilience
Resilience is frequently misunderstood as the ability to withstand extraordinary hardship. However, professional resilience is also cultivated in ordinary or uncomfortable moments. It arises when a promising opportunity disappears, when a carefully reasoned position proves untenable, when a client chooses another lawyer or when an anticipated promotion does not materialize.
I have experienced my share of professional disappointments. Some were consequential; others merely felt that way at the time. Looking back, I recognize that valuable lessons often emerged when my expectations collided with reality and I had to decide whether to become embittered, retreat or reconsider my approach. Resilience does not require pretending that disappointment is painless. Nor does it demand unquestioning persistence. Sometimes the most resilient decision is to abandon a course that no longer serves your values or aspirations. The objective is not to become impervious to failure but to avoid allowing failure to become your identity.
Recently, I had the privilege of convincing 17 colleagues at my law firm to entrust me with their personal stories for a book entitled “Resilience.” These accomplished women shared deeply personal struggles, difficult choices and unexpected turns. What struck me most was how little their journeys resembled one another’s, despite our shared professional home.
Their stories reinforced something law students should understand early: There is no single timetable for a successful life or career. Comparing your progress to someone else’s may be tempting, but it is rarely illuminating. We are not all running the same race nor should we.
If resilience determines how we respond when circumstances challenge us, feedback determines whether those experiences actually change us. Law school rewards the ability to defend a position. The practice of law also requires the humility to reconsider one.
Receptiveness to feedback
Young lawyers sometimes interpret criticism as a verdict on their intelligence or potential. A heavily revised memorandum becomes evidence of inadequacy. A difficult performance review feels like personal rejection. Yet receiving thoughtful criticism without surrendering confidence is among the most important professional skills a lawyer can develop. Having been a mentor to young attorneys, I have seen that intellectual ability alone rarely determines who flourishes. The lawyers who grow most impressively are often those who ask questions without embarrassment, acknowledge what they do not know and understand that feedback is information rather than humiliation. The legal profession has responsibilities here as well. Senior attorneys cannot demand resilience while confusing intimidation with mentorship. Feedback should be candid, specific and delivered with the intention of developing talent rather than demonstrating authority. The fact that an earlier generation may have endured harsh treatment does not justify perpetuating it.
A healthy legal profession must make room for both accountability and humanity which brings me to purpose.
Clear sense of purpose
We are entering a consequential period for the legal profession. Some major law firms have retreated from longstanding institutional commitments under political and economic pressure, raising difficult questions about professional independence and the values lawyers are prepared to defend. Simultaneously, artificial intelligence is transforming how legal work is researched, drafted, reviewed and delivered. For law students, the uncertainty can be unsettling. What skills will remain valuable? What work will disappear? What should a young associate focus on when technology can, in seconds, perform tasks that once required hours?
I believe the answer to these questions begins with remembering why we chose to enter the legal profession. A recent guest on my podcast expressed an idea about artificial intelligence that I find compelling: At its best, AI frees us to be more human. Consider the implications for lawyers.
Technology may become extraordinarily proficient at researching caselaw, identifying precedent, analyzing contracts and generating legal arguments. But a client facing the loss of a home, the dissolution of a business or a family crisis needs more than a technically accurate recitation of the law. That client needs someone capable of listening, explaining, exercising judgment and understanding the human consequences of legal decisions.
Much of my career has been devoted to representing condominium and homeowners’ associations, a practice existing at the intersection of law, governance, property rights and human behavior. I have watched community members transform minor disagreements into prolonged conflicts because they felt unheard or disrespected. I have also witnessed seemingly intractable disputes resolve when someone explained not merely what the law required, but why it mattered. Those experiences convinced me that one of a lawyer’s most consequential responsibilities is education.
The law shapes every dimension of our lives, yet many people increasingly view legal institutions as remote, incomprehensible or disconnected from everyday concerns. Lawyers have an obligation to narrow that distance by helping people understand their rights, responsibilities and the principles that make a functioning society possible. That responsibility extends beyond clients to the communities we serve, the younger attorneys we mentor and the public whose confidence in the rule of law cannot be taken for granted.
Purpose is not merely about finding a practice area you enjoy or an employer whose values align with your own. It is recognizing that a law license carries both privileges and obligations, and that professional independence, integrity and the willingness to speak with clarity matter, particularly when doing so is inconvenient. I would never discourage a law student from pursuing academic excellence or ambitious professional goals. But ambition untethered from purpose can become an exhausting pursuit of external validation. There will always be another title, compensation benchmark, professional distinction and someone who appears to have reached it first. The more enduring question is what you intend to do with the opportunities your education provides.
The profession you are entering will almost certainly look different from the one I entered decades ago. Technology will continue to alter legal practice. Institutional pressures will test professional independence. Clients will demand greater efficiency, transparency and value. Yet none of these developments will eliminate the need for lawyers possessing sound judgment, moral courage, intellectual humility and genuine concern for the people they serve. Your transcript may help open the first door. Your technical abilities will establish your credibility. But your resilience will determine how you navigate inevitable disappointment, your receptiveness to feedback will shape your growth, and your sense of purpose will influence the contributions you ultimately make.
Law school teaches you how to think like a lawyer. The more important education begins when you decide what kind of lawyer, and what kind of person, you intend to become.
Donna DiMaggio Berger is a shareholder and vice chair of Becker’s Community Association Practice Group and serves on the firm’s Management Committee. She is Board Certified by The Florida Bar in Condominium and Planned Development Law and a Fellow of the College of Community Association Lawyers. Berger is also the founder and executive director of Becker’s Community Association Leadership Lobby (CALL) and host of the Take It To The Board podcast. She was named 2025 Community Association Attorney of the Year for the 2026 edition of The Best Lawyers in America. She earned her J.D. and B.A. from University of Miami.
