Law schools don't know how to deal with depressed students

There is a very dangerous assumption that law professors tend to make unless and until told otherwise: that their students are all neurotypical. Professors’ lack of understanding about this issue is especially confusing considering the high number of law students who are affected by mental illness. Depression and anxiety are extremely common amongst law students, yet professors and school administrators structure their classes and programs without considering what the students will be able to handle.

I have both depression and anxiety, and I have been dealing with both for a few years now. My mental health (or lack thereof) affects my legal education, and sometimes I cannot keep up with my coursework. Some days, I am fine— I can prepare for class and be fully engaged. Other days, even making it out of bed and into the classroom is a battle. I choose to be a law student and I value this opportunity, but sometimes I just cannot do all that is expected of me. I am far from the only law student who deals with these issues, and yet professors repeatedly create policies and entertain assumptions that are detrimental to students like me.

In the first semester of my second year, I took a class with a professor who had very high expectations of their students. They were very kind and accommodating, and regularly checked in with the students in the class to see if we were okay. They adjusted assignment guidelines to make them more convenient for us and offered extra credit at the end of the term because they knew some of us were only one point away from an A grade. However, they had a very rigid attendance policy: any absences had to be approved by the registrar. It seemed strange for such an accommodating professor to have such a policy, and although this added procedure did make sure I did not miss class, it also meant that I sacrificed my health to be there. It was too overwhelming to have to go to the registrar’s office and explain that my mental health was bad. It was possible that they wouldn’t believe me, and that I would have to defend myself. Sometimes they ask for documentation, so I would have to go see a counsellor and get a note to confirm that I was in fact feeling ill. It was a lot of effort for a person who already cannot get out of bed. So, if I was unwell, I still came to class, and the mental exhaustion made my depression and anxiety even worse.

In the same semester, I was registered in a class that I quite enjoyed. I participated regularly, attended all class sessions, and stayed in touch with the professor regarding assignments as the semester progressed. In the middle of the term, when I was dealing with a particularly bad bout of depression and anxiety and was unable to do any work, I missed an assignment deadline. Instead of checking in to see why I had not submitted the assignment, the professor chose to email me and reprimand me for missing the deadline. I was informed of how many marks I would be losing and how that would affect my final grade. I was told to take my education more seriously. They did not ask me if I was okay or why I had suddenly stopped responding. At this point, they had no knowledge of what had happened, and no reason to believe that I was not taking my schooling seriously. Yet, this is the first thing that they thought of, and assumed that it must be true.

Receiving this email only made my anxiety worse, and I found myself unable to put any effort into my coursework. Later that day, I had an anxiety attack. Luckily, I spoke with Chris from the Academic Success office and he told me that I could drop the class if I wished, but I had to get that professor to sign my drop card. When I emailed this professor the next day, I explained my situation and asked them to sign the card. This was my first communication with them since missing the deadline. Suddenly, their entire demeanor changed and they sent me a list of on-campus resources for mental health support, which I would have appreciated much more if they had bothered to check in in the first place. Sending this email now seemed like an empty gesture, and it was not at all appreciated.

Although I was struggling, my mental health was thankfully not in terribly bad shape at the time. However, this professor did not know that. What if my mental state had been much more fragile? Why did they not consider the impact of their words upon their students? Why did they assume that failing to complete an assignment was me being lazy and unappreciative of my education? The only thing they needed to do was reach out and ask what was happening, but they chose not to do so. It baffles me because so many law students deal with mental illness like depression and anxiety, and it cannot be a new experience for professors to see their students show signs of it. So why did I have to come out and explain my problem before they realized that I might not be healthy enough to do it?

Law professors and administrators need to be much more cognizant of the ways in which their policies affect their students. All too often, myself and my peers end up losing entire nights of sleep to prepare for class because of the outrageous amount of homework, and this happens consistently each week. Many times, we miss meals because we are too busy to eat, and often we don’t go outside at all. Consistently assigning this much work means that they make the assumption that the student can keep up with it and remain in good health while doing it. I see professors regularly get upset when students are not prepared for class, but the workload is just so intense that sometimes we students have to prioritize our health. Professors and schools need to take a hard look at their own policies and assumptions and how they affect their students. It is the school’s job to take care of their students—or at least to not actively cause harm to them.