I Have an Answer for Those Who Say "Third Grade Is the Hardest": Fourth Grade Around Graduation

Some journeys leave behind not joy, but exhaustion on your shoulders. I am right there now; just a few steps away from June 2026, that final finish line. Despite everyone saying “the hardest part is behind you,” I am enduring the real storm—not in third year, but in the suffocating labyrinth of fourth-year procedural law and the weight of the question: “What will I do after graduation?”

Law Faculty Student (Generated by AI)

Where the Rose-Tinted Glasses Broke

I remember my first day at law faculty; everything seemed so attainable. For the first two years, despite the weight of thick textbooks, I somehow found my way. There were moments I even thought those who said “law is hard” were exaggerating—until I reached third year, that sharp turn where lessons suddenly grew heavier and everything I had known until then turned out to be merely a fragment.

The Myth of “Third Year Is the Hardest” vs. The Reality of Fourth Year

Despite everyone insisting “once you pass third year, you’ll graduate—it’s the hardest part,” my real storm broke under the crushing weight of fourth-year procedural law. From criminal procedure to administrative justice, the most technical and minutely precise courses piled onto me until I felt trapped in the center of a labyrinth. The upheaval of third year turned out to be nothing more than a warm-up for this final marathon of procedure.

The Silent Confession During Exam Week: “Should I Quit?”

I must admit: during exam week, I was so drained that I seriously considered walking away from it all. “Is this all there is?” I asked myself. I wanted to rise from that desk and escape forever from the endless lists of rules and procedural doctrines. In that moment, the dream of success felt less appealing than the simple fantasy of just leaving.

“But What Will I Do After Graduation?”

I did not leave that desk. And now, as June 2026—the great finish line—draws near, I look back. As the comforting illusion of graduation grows closer, my inner stress does not lessen; it deepens. Because now, on my desk, it is not only the weight of technical courses that presses down—it is a far heavier question: What will I do after graduation?

Stepping out of the school’s safe (but exhausting) harbor into the uncertainty of HMGS preparation and the foggy path of professional life sometimes feels even more terrifying than the helplessness I felt during exam week.

My Fading Belief That It Will All Be Worth It

Everyone tells me, “You’re almost there—once you graduate, everything will be worth it.” But I must be honest: my belief in that “worth it” has weakened. When the suffocating weight of procedural law meets the uncertainty ahead, that bright future as a lawyer seems less like a destination and more like a mirage far off in the distance.

Perhaps the greatest lie about studying law is the belief that at the final stretch, we will experience a great awakening. All I feel now is the exhaustion of a runner in the last hundred meters of a marathon, lungs burning, asking: “Why am I even running?”

Final Words: Even With Diminished Faith, I Keep Walking

Yet here I am. Even with diminished faith, I have not left that desk. I am walking forward not because I believe everything will be worth it, but because I feel responsible for finishing what I started. Sometimes heroism is not about revolution—it is simply about sitting down at that desk one more morning.

June 2026 is at the door. I am not excited—I am simply exhausted. But when I put on that robe, I will stop asking whether it was worth it. Instead, I will thank myself simply for having survived this storm.