By Jonathan Aronchick
I first would like to congratulate Daniella, my co-editor-in-chief of The Philadelphia Lawyer. There is reason to believe that we are the first co-editors-in-chief of the publication, and two of the youngest to serve in that capacity. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I remember in the summer of 2012, my father and I took a road trip out West just before I was about to enter law school. As we were driving through the mountains, my father and I began a discussion about what I was to anticipate at law school and the classes that I would be taking. As to be expected of such a conversation between a father-litigator and a son-soon-to-be-litigator, it immediately started out in a debate. The opening topic: The first class that I would be taking is torts. Our typical pas de deux of analytic sparring escalated as my father tried to explain a tort to my lay self. I didn’t understand what he was trying to explain to me. In my defense, I had come from several years working for a United States Senate Committee, where my only concept of the law was legislation. In the throes of my frustration of not fully understanding the concept of a tort and the distinction between fault and liability, my father then began explaining the difference between criminal and civil law, state and federal law, and legislation, regulation, and – mon dieu! – common law and jurisprudence (yet, to be fair, our professional community apparently continues to debate the application of the latter). That was a crash course in the law that I will never forget, especially as I could not fully understand all of the intricacies of the law until I went to law school. If any of you were able to grasp these concepts before law school, I commend you. On the opposite side of the same coin, you probably needed to get out more.
That anecdote has stayed with me because I think it is a microcosm of our profession. Whether it is understanding the nuances of the law, learning to “think like a lawyer” (a saying that does not make sense to anyone until going to law school), the business, or the incredibly complex ethical issues that arise in the practice of law, we are constantly learning the profession. I went from not understanding the concept of a tort to now walking down the street incapable of not spotting numerous potential torts on a single block. You get a tort! And you get a tort! Everybody gets a tort!
The point is that we learn not only from our own experiences but most importantly from the guidance and counsel of our peers, seniors, and even juniors. Our profession can only survive by teaching and mentoring one another. I have been blessed to have had the privilege of serving under the tutelage of three federal judges and countless attorneys, all who understood the importance – no less the obligation – of mentorship in our profession. And, concerningly, I have many peers who have never had the sacrament of legal professional mentorship. As this issue centers on advice to young attorneys from the more tenured ones, I would like to briefly turn the tables on the topic as advice from young attorneys to the tenured ones: keep mentoring us. We crave it. We need it. Our profession depends on it, and it is your professional duty to confer it. It is a contract we make with each other when signing our first bar license card and what connects us all. I hope to someday be even an approximation of the mentors I have had and to be able to continue that necessary tradition.
Jonathan Aronchick is co-editor of The Philadelphia Lawyer.
