In a world racing to look impressive, one student chose to be honest. This edition is about what that honesty taught me — and what it should teach you

Last month, a young law student wrote to me. A quiet admirer, they said, of my conversations with students.

They had published an article on a fairly technical M&A structuring question and wanted my view. Was it a regulatory gap, or just clever lawyering?

I am always moved when the young reach out. I remember my own early years too well — the struggle, the hunger to be taken seriously, the fear of not being good enough. So I read the piece carefully.

And then I did what a mentor must do. I told them honestly what I saw.

The article lacked clarity. And it read like it had been written with the help of AI.

Now pause here. Put yourself in that student’s chair. A senior lawyer you admire has just told you your published work doesn’t hold up. What do you do?

Most people go quiet. Some get defensive. A few delete the connection.

This student did none of those things. They wrote back and owned it. Yes, AI had helped with the drafting.

So, I asked one simple question. Did you truly understand the legal proposition you got articulated? Can you explain it to me, confidently? Be honest.

And then came the sentence that has stayed with me ever since.

“To be completely honest, Sir, we understand the core idea — but we could not confidently explain every technical nuance at this stage.”

I read it twice. Because that, my young friends, takes courage.

Why this matters more than you think

Let me tell you what happens on the other side of the screen when you publish something.

Experienced readers — partners, general counsel, senior advocates — read your article the way a doctor reads an X-ray. We are not reading your sentences. We are reading your understanding. And a piece built on borrowed knowledge shows. It is superfluous in exactly the places where real understanding would be precise. Any experienced reader spots it in seconds.

Here is the trap of this generation: AI has made it dangerously easy to write about things you do not actually understand. The sentences arrive polished. The structure looks professional. The article feels publishable.

But AI can write your sentences. It cannot give you your understanding.

And when a senior reader senses the gap between the two, the damage is not to the article. It is to your name. In our profession, your name is the only asset you will ever truly own.

I learnt this the hard way, in reverse. In my early years, I had understanding but no platform — no LinkedIn, no way to be seen. Today’s students have every platform and are tempted to skip the understanding. Believe me, of the two, I had the better problem.

So how should you use AI? Here is my honest answer.

Not by avoiding it. That advice would be dishonest and useless — AI is now part of our profession, and it will be part of yours more than mine.

Use it the way I use it: as a measured exercise. Three tests before you publish anything AI has touched:

1. Can you explain the core proposition to a senior, across a table, with no notes?

If not, you have not finished your homework — the article has, but you haven’t.

2. Can you defend it when challenged?

Because you will be. The comments section is a courtroom without a judge.

3. Would you be comfortable if the reader knew exactly how much was yours?

If that question makes you uneasy, your instinct is already telling you the answer.

Write about what you have genuinely understood. Build your foundation first. The clever angle, the sophisticated argument — that comes later, and it comes on its own, once the fundamentals are truly yours.

Enthusiasm is a beautiful thing. But it must rest on sound, credible homework.

One last word — about that student

Their honesty told me something no polished article could: this young person will get there. Because the ones who can say “I don’t fully understand this yet” are the only ones who ever fully understand anything.

So here is my closing question for you.

The next time you are about to publish — will you ask yourself the question that student had the courage to answer? Do I truly understand this, or does my article just sound like I do?

Thank you for reading Connecting Dots. After three decades in corporate law, I still practice actively — but I make time for young lawyers because, honestly, it keeps me learning.

If this edition spoke to you, don’t stop at reading. I built AskNitin.com precisely for you — a mentorship platform available 24/7, wherever you are. You can chat with me, build a professional resume, self-assess your skills, and practice mock interviews before the real ones. Over 1,200 students have already had one-on-one conversations with me, and a community of 600+ students grows every week. There is no fee for ambition — just come prepared to work on yourself.

And if you have a question for a future edition, write to me on LinkedIn. Some of my best lessons began as a student’s question.

Nitin Potdar www.asknitin.com | #ConversationsWithNitinPotdar