Caroline Zamek--FSU

At the beginning of my argumentative career, I could barely formulate a sentence. My response to anything my parents said to me always began with “But.” They would say, for example, “Caroline, it’s bedtime,” and I would reply, “But I’m not tired. Five more minutes.” This argumentative habit stuck with me as I got older. At one point, my dad grew so frustrated with me that he threatened to legally change my name to Caroline But Zamek. I never took no for an answer and challenged everyone on everything. 

In second grade, I accompanied my dad to a City Commission meeting on Take Your Child to Work Day. My dad’s company was hired to expand the student body of a local charter school. When the session began and the chamber doors opened, a graceful figure in a navy blue silk suit and high heels made her way to the front. As she addressed the commissioners from the podium, I tugged on my dad's jacket and asked who she was. He explained, “That’s Laura Russo; she’s a lawyer. Basically, she is paid to negotiate with people on behalf of her clients.” I studied Ms. Russo as she negotiated with the commissioners and won her case. The idea that I could actually be paid to do the one thing I enjoyed most, arguing, sounded like heaven to me. 

When my dad told Ms. Russo how fascinated I was by her, she invited me to spend a day in her office as an “intern.” I was kept busy with important tasks like making copies and shredding documents while Ms. Russo buzzed around, preparing for her next case. For the following ten years, I spent school breaks shadowing her and her paralegal, Jessy. By middle school, I graduated from making copies to reading depositions and even attending hearings. 

During the summer of 2019, I assisted Ms. Russo on my first real case, representing a local preparatory school. For weeks, she put together a compelling argument, packed with facts, data, and evidence. Poised, respectful, and attentive to the opposing counsel, Ms. Russo won the case for her client. All these skills I observed Ms. Russo so effectively use, I kept packed in a mental briefcase I carried with me to this day. 

Two years ago, I took a Christianity class taught by my school’s Chaplain, Reverend Cassini. We were watching a movie called Dead Man Walking. Based on a true story, a man is sentenced to death for the murder of a teenage couple. Reverend Cassini asked us to contemplate the moral issues of the death penalty and create an argument either in support or opposing it for a class debate the next day. I was assigned to the group opposing the death penalty. 

Just as Ms. Russo had taught me, I approached the discussion, determined and prepared, and began with my opening statement. “No one, not even the government, is innocent enough to justify killing another person as a punishment, no matter the severity of the crime.” Eagerly, the opposing counsel offered their points, and one by one, I shot them down with my strong rebuttals. Accepting defeat, the other group gave up and we won the case. 

For the first time, I felt as though I wasn’t arguing just to argue. I became unusually immersed in this particular argument and found quality in the cause I was so passionately fighting for. Although this was just a classroom activity, it felt real to me. I was using my voice to represent people who don’t have a voice. This is the beauty of fighting like a lawyer.