Experienced Immigration and Family Attorney Amanda Shaffer Passes The Florida as The Shapiro Law Firm LLC Prepares To Open Its New Florida Office.

12 Years After Passing the Bar, I Took It Again (and Passed): Why I Did It and What I Learned.

In July 2012, I sat for the NY and NJ bar exams—six hours of testing over three
consecutive days. Having graduated from law school just two months earlier, my life revolved around bar prep. I lived, breathed, and slept the bar exam; my sole job was to pass. By exam time, I looked like I'd been through a battle: wrist and elbow supports for the tendonitis from non stop typing and writing, and a level of mental exhaustion that defies description. I knew one thing walking into that exam: I had to pass because I would never go through that grueling study
process again.

When I left the exam room, I felt fairly confident, but an agonizing five-month wait for the results lay ahead. That November day, when I learned I’d passed, brought unmatched jubilation. At 25-years-old, I’d achieved my lifelong goal of becoming a lawyer. But my first thought wasn’t about the achievement—it was relief that I would never have to take that exam
again!

I started practicing law in NYC with my brother-in-law, Aaron, and never looked back.
Or so I thought. Life, however, had surprises in store.

A Shift in Plans

About a year later, I met my future husband. I knew I wanted to spend my life with him from our first date. He was from Maryland, lived in NYC, and worked in finance. There was just one issue: he wanted to live anywhere but NYC. Born and raised in the city and its suburbs, I’d never questioned where I’d end up. My husband, however, had a love/hate relationship with NYC, and over time, his reasons for wanting to leave started making sense. But one major roadblock loomed—I was licensed in NY and NJ, and had built my practice in NYC. I could not
abandon what I worked so hard building, and I was limited to where I could practice law.

Then came 2020. The pandemic upended life as we knew it, and it shifted our perspective on many things, including where to live. Ironically, my small law firm emerged stronger thanks to my new social media marketing approach. My husband changed jobs, graduated with an MBA from Columbia, and thoughts of relocating seemed to fade into the background.

Another important development during the pandemic was my parents purchasing a house in Boca Raton, Florida, in the same community as Aaron’s mother. I was familiar with this part of Florida, as my grandparents had lived there when I was young. My husband and I began escaping NYC winters for the South Florida sunshine. I loved it—the relief from cold-induced allergies and the change of scenery were refreshing.

Even after the pandemic subsided, life in NYC never quite returned to normal. Costs of living soared, and I started questioning whether staying in a cramped, expensive apartment made sense. My husband, who had transitioned to a more demanding role at work, continued to advocate for relocating. Eventually, we agreed on South Florida—far enough from the tri-state area yet close to my family, who were spending more and more time there.

The Florida Bar: A New Challenge

But there was one catch—I wasn’t licensed to practice law in Florida. My primary
practice area is federal immigration law, which technically allows me to work in Florida without a state license. Still, that didn’t sit right with me. State law issues arise even in a federal practice, and with potential political shifts affecting immigration, I wanted the ability to practice state law if we moved to Florida more permanently.

Then there was the daunting idea of change. Opening a new office felt overwhelming, and whenever my husband mentioned it, I froze. Florida has no bar reciprocity, so I'd need to retake the ENTIRE bar exam, including the federal and ethics components, which unearthed the trauma from the 2012 exam. However, knowing I had to retake the exam bought me time to mentally prepare for the changes ahead.

Initially, I considered taking the exam in February 2024. Late applications were still
being accepted, and I thought I could “wing it.” Easier said than done. Not only did I need to complete the character and fitness requirements before being issued a ticket to sit for the exam, but there were also significant costs associated with study materials, registration, and traveling to Tampa. Common sense prevailed, and I aimed for the July sitting, giving myself ample time to study.

A Different Bar Exam Experience

Starting February 2024, I worked my day job from 7:30 AM to 4 PM, squeezed in a
quick workout, and studied for 2-4 hours every evening. Saturdays were for studying, with Sundays reserved for a break. Initially, I tried to maintain a social life, but that quickly dwindled.

There were unexpected challenges. I’d never had to balance full-time work with
studying; during law school, my parents’ support meant I could focus solely on my studies. Now, I was managing a demanding legal practice and studying for an exam on topics completely unrelated to the areas of law I regularly practice. Immigration law wasn’t on the bar exam, nor was New York state law. Essentially, I was starting from scratch, learning law for a new state and relearning material I had long since forgotten.

Despite following the study plan laid out by the course, my benchmark test results were disappointing. Retaining information seemed harder than when I was younger. Was it age? Or just an overloaded brain? Whatever the reason, it was disheartening.
My competitive nature soon kicked in, and the bar exam became a challenge I had to conquer. While my career didn’t hinge on passing, my pride did. Telling people that I was taking the bar again held me accountable, but also heightened the pressure. Failure would be public.

By May, doubt set in about my study strategy. My practice scores remained stagnant, and this new online course—different from the in-person class I took in 2012—seemed flawed, with noticeable errors. I panicked but adjusted my approach: flashcards, visual aids, and focusing on what worked best for my learning style, even if it wasn’t conventional.

By the time I was done studying, I’d created around 20 different charts and flow
diagrams—literal life-savers. I also harnessed the power of technology that didn’t exist back in 2012, using over 100 emojis and various characters (including Greek and Roman symbols) to represent different terms.

My husband thought I was wasting time choosing the “right” emoji, but I learned to trust my instincts. He’s brilliant, but we learn differently. Visualizing information made it stick for me. While I valued his insights from his recent MBA experience, I ultimately had to trust my gut.

I also experimented with incorporating ChatGPT into my study process, hoping AI-
generated images could help visualize legal concepts. It was a disaster—the images produced were not useful, and I regretted wasting precious time. The attempt was driven by my interest in technology, but in retrospect, adding new elements to an already overloaded brain wasn’t wise.

The Pressure Cooker

The months leading up to the exam were intense. I rushed through work, squeezed in study time whenever possible, and operated on minimal sleep. Client's didn’t pause, and complex cases required my full attention. Exercise became my escape—movement was medicine. I relied on endurance workouts on my Peloton bike to build mental resilience, pushing through long, grueling rides that mirrored the sustained focus needed for bar prep.
One day in late April, I was biking home from work when a cab hit me. Thrown off my
Citi Bike, I bruised my ribs but managed to walk away, get back on the bike, and ride 20 blocks home to study for two more hours. There was no time to waste. The incident underscored a newfound toughness that I did not know I had.

The Final Stretch and the Test

By July, I was beyond exhausted. To focus solely on studying, I started working from
home and took off the final weeks before the exam. By that point, my Sundays off were a distant memory. My life revolved around studying, and I channeled all my energy into those final weeks. Panic set off my fight-or-flight response, and I fought like hell! I drew up a strict study plan, cut out distractions, and went into “do not disturb” mode. I started to doubt if I could pass both parts of the bar (state and federal). The panic-fueled focus helped me decide: I would pass both parts of the exam.

With less than two weeks left, sleep became elusive. Knowing I had more material to learn than time to study, I pushed through late nights. Fortunately, my husband was there to support and encourage me—and to make sure I ate and slept. It’s funny how quickly one can go from being a fully functioning adult to needing reminders to shower!

In Tampa, I found myself among over 6,000 test-takers in a vast convention center.
Despite the pressure, I was calmer than I’d been 12 years ago. Practice had sharpened my skills, allowing me to analyze questions and answers efficiently. Every session was completed with time to spare, thanks to my years of experience reading and parsing cases quickly.

When the second day of testing ended, relief washed over me. I knew I’d given it my all. The six-week wait for results loomed ahead—a mix of rest, short trips, and cautious optimism. “I can’t accept congratulations yet,” I’d tell everyone. “Taking the bar isn’t an accomplishment.Passing is.”
Results and the Road Ahead

The first time I took the bar exam, results were vaguely promised “around October or
November.” This time, the exact date was clear: September 23, 2024. That morning at 10:47 AM, I found out I'd passed. Relief flooded in, but sadly I did not feel the same joy that I felt 12 years ago. The unexpected part was how excited others were for me—a validation I didn’t know I was missing. Aaron stepped up while I was away, keeping the practice running smoothly, which strengthened our partnership.

Now, the next journey begins: opening a Florida office. I’m still scared, but retaking and passing the bar has instilled a new level of confidence. I’m no longer afraid to be afraid; I’ve proven to myself that, with a plan and determination, I can overcome any obstacle.

And while I say now, just as I did in 2012, that I’ll never do this again... well, life has a
way of surprising us.