Last Tuesday, my morning started like most of my mornings since I arrived here: with a *ping* into my inbox. I checked my email, and when I read who had sent it, I freaked out, just as any student intern, with no useful skills knowing they’re youngest person on staff would. The director? And founder of the family defense practice herself??? Had emailed me??? DIRECTLY?!  

She was inviting me to help prepare for and attend a press conference and hearing at city council. I couldn’t believe it! The only problem? The hearing was the next day. I was on the spot, under pressure, with no time to spare. Basically? I was in my zone. I was asked to find some social science research that would prove a point to the council members about why “length of stay in foster care” wasn’t necessarily a good measure for deciding whether the Administration for Children’s Services was doing a good job. I was also tasked with sending out an email to all of staff, asking for anecdotal examples of clients who had worked things out with older children, to show that it really is never too late for parents and children to work out their issues. All of this was done within a four-hour period, while I was out of the office, all across Brooklyn, meeting with one client after another, and as the signature reads, each email was “Sent from my iPhone.”

Everything was happening at once on this particular day. I was corresponding with clients, leaving messages for our administration, and taking notes on who I spoke to and what was said during my time “in the field.” I felt, on the surface, particularly overwhelmed but I felt something else too. A thrill. The same thrill I often feel while at Duke. When people are counting on you to get things done and know all the answers, and it seems like every thing that could happen is happening all at once. At least for me, those moments have become all too familiar. They are moments that accumulate into the regular once-a-semester emotional breakdowns and loss of all motivation (which may or may not have grown into thrice-a-semester over the years). But the sense of purpose I feel in those moments of time crunch are addicting. They’re the moments in which I feel most useful.

And then, the “should’ve been expected” unexpected occurred. The hearing was rescheduled. We’d have more than a week more to prepare, gather stories, solidify research. Nothing wrong with that. The next day I opened the document I’d been adding quotes from research papers to… And found myself stressed. What if this wasn’t topical enough? What if I wasn’t looking in the right places? The speed at which the word document grew slowed significantly from the one day I thought I’d had to prepare it. When the day of the actual city council meeting came, I had something to contribute, but I’d honestly let myself down. I know I could’ve done more, done better research. And though there had been plenty of other projects keeping me busy in the meantime, I realize there is yet another drawback to being a person who works best with a metaphorical fire burning under their butt. Sure, you’re a chronic procrastinator. Yes, you tend to sprint to the finish line and have to recuperate for a while afterwards. But also, when the “fire” you’re used to is burning slow, and there’s more smoke than open flames coming off of it, you won’t know what to do. I realize that the work I do at BFDP is often a lot of running from one place to another, meeting here, meeting there, sending off this email and replying to 3 others. But there are also things that require time, effort, forethought, and planning. And that is the performance area I intend to work my hardest at improving in the 4 ½ or 5 weeks (WHAT?!) I have remaining.

It’s just like all of the unsolicited but honestly good advice I keep getting from law students and practiced attorneys at my job when I say I’m still deciding whether or not I want to go to law school: “Take your time. Don’t go right into law school. Make sure every decision you make is worth it. Know what you want before you go for it.”

In the end, the testimonies, like the hearing, were postponed. I got to watch public advocates and council members sling mud and throw shade at ACS for the less-than-stellar statistics concerning foster youth the administration has been reporting. But I unfortunately did not get to stay and hear our director speak on the proposed legislation, and present some of the research I helped compile. When the director of BFDP started the organization almost ten years ago, she simply saw a need that wasn’t being met. Seeing now what amazing people the program has drawn and all of the important work the practice has done makes me realize that even if you don’t end up using your work the way you expected, it will pay to be prepared.