A Night to Remember: The Art of Connection Beyond the Office

The night flowed like champagne—smooth, sparkling, and a reminder that articling isn’t just a professional chapter, but a shared celebration of growth and connection.

Last week, our firm hosted its annual client appreciation party at Roy Thomson Hall, welcoming more than a hundred guests. It was one of those rare evenings where suits traded in their serious tones for laughter, clinking glasses, and endless trays of hors d’oeuvres that seemed to appear out of thin air. Lawyers and students from all of our regional offices came together that night, making it a true firm-wide celebration of connection and camaraderie.

As articling students, it was an opportunity to see the people behind the email signatures—clients, insureds, adjusters, and counsel who make up the community we work with every day. 

We dressed up, mingled, and swapped courtroom war stories for conversations about travel, family, and baseball (more on that later).

The night didn’t end at Roy Thomson. Like any great story, there was a lively epilogue: a group of us gathered at a nearby pub, still in our formalwear, watching the Blue Jays in the championship series with the kind of collective energy only a close team can have. Between cheering, laughing, and sharing fries under dim bar lights, the lines between “colleague” and “friend” blurred in the best possible way. It wasn’t just a party—it was a reflection of what it means to be part of this firm. It’s the reminder that while we work hard on our files, we’re also part of something larger: a team that celebrates together, supports one another, and makes even the busiest articling year feel a little like home.

Some nights stand out not because of the venue or the menu, but because of the people. This was one of those nights—a perfect snapshot of what it means to belong here.

by Tiara B.

The Adjustment from Student to Articling Student

 

I was a full-time student for 20 straight years. Over time, I found a comfortable routine and enjoyed the rhythm of academic life—especially having summers off. Without a doubt, my favourite part of being a student was the flexible schedule. Law school amplified that flexibility: some days I could sleep in, and other days I had long gaps that allowed me to take walks around the city or meet up with friends. 

I thought life as I knew it would come to an end when I began articling. But I’ve worked hard to organize my new routine in a way that fits my lifestyle.

I am a morning person. Late-night studying was never my thing, so early in my articling term, I started coming into the office an hour before the office day officially began. That quiet time has become one of the most productive parts of my day.

Staying connected with friends has also been a priority. It’s easy to get caught up in work and then retreat into solitude after a long day. But I’ve found that making plans to see friends after work is one of the best ways to recharge and stay grounded.

With a full-time schedule, work-life balance is essential. With my early start, I have time to get to the gym or take a run before dinner. I play ice hockey on weekends and squeeze in a round of golf whenever time permits. Staying active is essential—not just for my physical health, but for managing the stress that comes with working in a busy law office.

While many colleagues enjoy working remotely, I’ve found value in being in the office daily. When my schedule aligns with other students, we take short walks to Parliament for fresh air—echoing the walks I used to take as a student. We also share lunch breaks in the lunchroom, catching up on work and life outside of law. Sometimes, other lawyers join us, adding to the camaraderie and conversation. These moments of connection add satisfaction to the day.

Transitioning from student life to articling has been significant—but not in a negative way. By preserving the routines and relationships that kept me grounded as a student, I found stability and joy in my new role. Change can be daunting, but it also brings opportunity. With intention and self-awareness, it’s possible to carry forward the best parts of your past while embracing the growth that comes with new beginnings.

by Matthew B.

What Kind of Pizza Topping Are We? A Slice of the Articling Experience

 

During a recent interview with a prospective student, we were asked a question that gave us pause: 

“If your firm were a pizza topping, what would you be?”

At first glance, it seemed like a playful icebreaker. But as we thought about it, the answer actually reflects the articling experience here. If I had to choose, we’d be mushrooms.

Why? Because mushrooms adapt to any slice they’re on. They bring depth, versatility, and a richness of flavour that complements everything else around them. In the same way, articling at our firm means adapting to a wide variety of practice areas—insurance, commercial litigation, construction law, personal injury, employment, and more. Each file offers its own unique “slice,” and as students, we get the chance to grow into whatever the situation calls for.

Like mushrooms on pizza, we’re not just there for decoration—we add value by soaking up the knowledge around us. Every motion, discovery, and client meeting is an opportunity to learn from experienced counsel and contribute meaningfully to the case. One day, we might be drafting affidavits in a construction lien matter, and the next, preparing research for a complex commercial dispute. 

The beauty of articling at MB is that no two slices are ever the same. With each new challenge, we become more adaptable, more resourceful, and better prepared for the diverse practice of law. 

So, what started as a fun interview question actually turned out to be the perfect metaphor for articling life: we are mushrooms on the firm’s pizza—always learning, always adapting, and always adding depth to the slice in front of us.

by Tiara B.

Becoming the Lawyer I'm Meant to Be

Since starting as a law student, the question - Am I really meant for this? - keeps popping into my head. It’s not just me—many people around me seem to wrestle with the same thought.

Law is demanding in ways that are hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it—the long nights, the responsibility, the constant pace.

It’s easy to get caught up in the go-go-go and forget to pause and acknowledge what we’ve already accomplished.

Imposter syndrome is real. I’ve noticed how easy it is to compare ourselves to peers, to wonder if we’re keeping up, or to focus on what we could have done better. After writing the bar exam this summer, I caught myself doing exactly that—thinking about what I missed instead of celebrating what I’d already achieved. But the truth is—we’ve already done incredible things to get here. Taking a moment to reflect on that progress is so important.

Perfectionism makes this even trickier. As lawyers, we’re trained to aim high, leave no stone unturned, and get every detail right. But I’ve noticed that perfectionism often leads to worry, fear of mistakes, and feeling like nothing we do is ever good enough. I’ve learned to reframe this for myself: striving for excellence is important, but it doesn’t mean torturing yourself. Doing your best, while being kind to yourself, is the goal.

Another thing I’ve realized is that growth comes from putting yourself out there. At the start of last summer, I was nervous to ask questions—I worried about sounding unprepared. But I’ve learned that asking questions isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. It shows you’re engaged and invested in learning the work. Other lawyers want you to succeed. Speaking up has become my reminder that I belong here and that I’m capable of becoming the lawyer I want to be.

In just a few weeks of articling, I’ve attended a motion, participated in discoveries, drafted affidavits, and will soon be at the Court of Appeal. These experiences are reminders that success doesn’t come overnight.

Success comes from showing up, working hard, and embracing the opportunities in front of you.

The path isn’t always linear. There are moments when I feel unsure, isolated, or out of place—but that doesn’t mean I don’t belong. Everyone’s journey is different. I’ve started to focus on taking care of myself, seeking mentorship, and remembering why I chose this path: to grow, to learn, and to surround myself with people who challenge and support me.

Articling is just the beginning. There will be tough days, but there are also moments that make this career deeply rewarding. By reframing what feels like doubt or failure and allowing myself to celebrate wins—even the small ones—I’m learning to trust that I belong here. And that’s how I’m slowly becoming the lawyer I’ve always wanted to be.

by Zlata B.

Diving In

The midsummer sun bathed everything in an orange glow and blanketed my body in a warm embrace. I was eight years old at the local pool, queued behind the rest of the students in my swim lesson cohort. On this day, I had my first ever diving lesson.

When it was my turn, I locked my elbows and positioned my arms in a triangle behind my ears. I gazed nervously at the water in the deep end. A million thoughts ran through my mind.

Would the water be very cold? Will I forget how to hold my breath? Will I swallow massive amounts of chlorinated water, and choke? Will everyone laugh, because I don’t know how to dive?

The swim instructor’s voice cut through the chaos of my mind.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he said, “just close your eyes, and go for it.”

And so, I did. The water was very cold in contrast with the warmth of the sun. I did accidentally swallow too much of it; but then, I came up for air and realized I had survived, and surprisingly, diving in was lots of fun.

My 2L summer experience was a lot like my first diving lesson. 

There’s no way you could really prepare for it. You’re given a comprehensive, theoretical orientation, which was a helpful primer, much like being “taught” how to dive by example was a helpful primer, but the most effective way to learn, of course, was by doing.

My first few assignments felt like diving into a pool from the deep end, but in the best possible way. There was a split moment of panic where you realize everything is new, and you don’t know anything. Just as the chlorinated water had burned my lungs, the massive size of some of the files we had to sift through to create damages briefs was slightly overwhelming; but don’t let this scare you!

The fun part comes after the initial nerves—when you let your instincts take over and you begin to naturally problem-solve. We were hired because we had the ability to learn, not because we knew everything already. The most gratifying experience was learning to piece together what would eventually become a completed damages brief, among many other things.

As my summer ends, I reflect on everything I have learned. I now had a true appreciation for what “hands on” really meant. Over the course of 12 weeks, I had only done a handful of research assignments. The bulk of my work was drafting legal documents. Highlights include a draft order and a bill of costs that made its way to the Court of Appeal.

I was not perfect, but I didn’t need to be. I proved to myself that I was unafraid of discomfort—of diving into cold water (or in this case, 3000-page documents) and emerging unscathed. Eight-year-old me faced her fear of diving, and twenty-four-year-old me faced her fear of entering the world of law, equipped with everything I ever needed, which was nothing at all except myself.

by Yeru T.