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Career crossroads? Is change really as good as a rest? Teaching has been a revelation for Alexia Zimbler who left practice to inspire the next generation of criminal barristers
When I started as a pupil in 1994 I was enthusiastic and ready to learn. As I watched my pupil-master dealing with problematic clients, slippery witnesses and grumpy judges my eagerness did not diminish because, at my core, I knew that this was what I wanted to do. I can confidently say that 30 years on, I have never regretted my decision and I regularly tell my students (more of that later) that being a criminal barrister is, and always will be, the ‘best job in the world’.
That’s not to say it doesn’t have its downsides. During my 25 years in practice my working week rarely changed:
At the weekends I would usually work at least eight hours but tried to fit it in around some semblance of a social life and married life.
When my daughters came along, you could add into all of the above the joys of babies, toddlers, nursery, school, nativity plays, sports days, working after the kids had gone to bed, and sometimes missing out on things (mostly sleep and parents’ evenings). My daughters grew up knowing that I truly believed that I could be a great(ish) mother and a wife and have a job that I loved.
So far, so good. My career progressed, my cases became more complicated, longer, more exciting and interesting and I started to be instructed in cases where I could choose to be led, or to lead. During this time I had started off living in London (but practising on the Western Circuit), then moved up to Durham (North-East Circuit) and finally to Canterbury (Kent and London South-Eastern Circuit). I would whine and moan with the best of them – scant instructions or poor casework requiring extra hours of preparation, judges who expected too much, even though they knew the system was a breaking point, sometimes just not having the time to do everything I felt the case needed, constantly battling for disclosure, being expected to do more and more, for less and less. And yet even if you had found me on one of those days, when I was so tired I could hardly string a sentence together and it was really hard to hold back tears when a judge was rude and dismissive, I would not have changed career.
And yet it’s 2025 and I am no longer practising at the Bar.
Nearly five years ago I started down a different path, with much trepidation, and on the strict understanding that it was going to be ‘short-term’ only. In the run-up to 2019 I had been working more than flat-out; back-to-back trials, with no breaks with none of the trials lasting less than four weeks, one of them taking seven months (it overran by three months) and one of the murder cases having to be run three times. Then my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumour and things just came to a head. I decided that I needed a break from my practice, time to recharge, time to think, to spend time with my mum and my family – time to breathe.
I applied for a short-term fixed contract teaching on the Bar Vocational Studies course at City Law School. It was only for 14 months, three days a week, teaching criminal litigation, advocacy, conference skills and ethics – all subjects I knew well. I told my instructing solicitors that I was taking a ‘sabbatical’ and that I would be back.
I started in early 2000 – and yes, within six weeks COVID kicked in. It was not the best time to be ‘learning to teach’; all classes went online and most staff were grappling with new technology and how to support students. I was in my (very) early fifties, moving from a path which I was navigating successfully, to one where I felt like a ‘pupil’ again, all knowledge and no experience. I love a challenge and because lockdown gave me the opportunity to spend time with my mum before she passed away, I was very enthusiastic to learn more about teaching in the short time that I had.
That first year of online teaching was a real eye-opener. We taught every class that would have taken place in person, live online instead. At that time all my colleagues at the Bar were waiting for Nightingale courts to get up and running and in the meantime did very little. I was working a full teaching schedule and feeling really invigorated. As the end of my fixed-term contract drew closer, I felt that I had so much more to learn and more importantly for me, that I had much more to contribute. The students were a diverse mix – UK and International, from all backgrounds. They were bright, curious, generally hardworking and a real joy to teach. I realised that I wasn’t ready to go back to practice.
When I was offered a permanent position, however, I wavered. Would my colleagues think I couldn’t hack it any longer, or had bottled it, choosing the ‘easy life’? Too many people still have these unfair preconceptions; we’ve all heard the old adage ‘those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach’ (shame on you George Bernard Shaw) but my own experience (teaching Bar students) is very far away from that disparaging suggestion.
Teaching is not an easy option. It requires patience, clarity and eloquence. It has very high expectations that the tutor is knowledgeable enough to be able to explain the intricacies and subtleties of planning and performing a cross-examination, for example, to someone who has no real experience other than an academic qualification. Teaching someone the skills they need to pursue a career at the Bar or as a lawyer, is much harder than going to court and having to deal with a difficult judge or a poorly prepared opponent, because these students want to know why it’s better to do something one way than another, and teachers need to be able to give them a genuine answer, preferably with real-life examples.
In the end I decided to take up the permanent post because I wanted more time with teaching. Each year that passes I take time to ask myself whether I should go back to practice, and so far the answer has been ‘no’. I read an article written by a barrister who had left the Bar to become an academic, taught on the Bar course, but within a few years found that it wasn’t for him and returned to practice. He cites struggling with being ‘employed’ and not being able to manage his own path – changes that I have also found difficult to adjust to, but for me the positives outweigh the negatives. I still forget that I am not expected to work for hours when I get home from court, or at weekends and have to be reminded that I am being paid to take holiday leave, and therefore should make the most of it!
Being involved in shaping the barristers of the future, passing on knowledge and experience, and seeing the students gain in confidence and determination is positively uplifting. Maybe I have been very lucky to teach at City Law School with likeminded colleagues, or maybe I have just been lucky with the students I have taught, but nearly five years on, I still think there is more I can achieve. Students often ask me if I miss practice and the answer is ‘yes’ – I miss being in court, I miss the lovely court staff, I miss cross-examining terrible witnesses and giving closing speeches, but if I left teaching now, I would miss the students more.
Teaching isn’t for everyone. But for some, like me, it has been a revelation. I am very fortunate to have discovered that a second career can be as rewarding as my first career. Anyone reading this, who thinks that maybe you have reached a crossroads, and are unsure which path to take, consider passing on your wisdom to the next generation – you could be guiding the barristers of the future towards a brilliant career.
Alexia Zimbler practised at the Criminal and Family Bar for over 25 years before switching to academia. She is now a Senior Lecturer at City, University of London and teaches on the Bar Vocational Studies programme.
When I started as a pupil in 1994 I was enthusiastic and ready to learn. As I watched my pupil-master dealing with problematic clients, slippery witnesses and grumpy judges my eagerness did not diminish because, at my core, I knew that this was what I wanted to do. I can confidently say that 30 years on, I have never regretted my decision and I regularly tell my students (more of that later) that being a criminal barrister is, and always will be, the ‘best job in the world’.
That’s not to say it doesn’t have its downsides. During my 25 years in practice my working week rarely changed:
At the weekends I would usually work at least eight hours but tried to fit it in around some semblance of a social life and married life.
When my daughters came along, you could add into all of the above the joys of babies, toddlers, nursery, school, nativity plays, sports days, working after the kids had gone to bed, and sometimes missing out on things (mostly sleep and parents’ evenings). My daughters grew up knowing that I truly believed that I could be a great(ish) mother and a wife and have a job that I loved.
So far, so good. My career progressed, my cases became more complicated, longer, more exciting and interesting and I started to be instructed in cases where I could choose to be led, or to lead. During this time I had started off living in London (but practising on the Western Circuit), then moved up to Durham (North-East Circuit) and finally to Canterbury (Kent and London South-Eastern Circuit). I would whine and moan with the best of them – scant instructions or poor casework requiring extra hours of preparation, judges who expected too much, even though they knew the system was a breaking point, sometimes just not having the time to do everything I felt the case needed, constantly battling for disclosure, being expected to do more and more, for less and less. And yet even if you had found me on one of those days, when I was so tired I could hardly string a sentence together and it was really hard to hold back tears when a judge was rude and dismissive, I would not have changed career.
And yet it’s 2025 and I am no longer practising at the Bar.
Nearly five years ago I started down a different path, with much trepidation, and on the strict understanding that it was going to be ‘short-term’ only. In the run-up to 2019 I had been working more than flat-out; back-to-back trials, with no breaks with none of the trials lasting less than four weeks, one of them taking seven months (it overran by three months) and one of the murder cases having to be run three times. Then my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumour and things just came to a head. I decided that I needed a break from my practice, time to recharge, time to think, to spend time with my mum and my family – time to breathe.
I applied for a short-term fixed contract teaching on the Bar Vocational Studies course at City Law School. It was only for 14 months, three days a week, teaching criminal litigation, advocacy, conference skills and ethics – all subjects I knew well. I told my instructing solicitors that I was taking a ‘sabbatical’ and that I would be back.
I started in early 2000 – and yes, within six weeks COVID kicked in. It was not the best time to be ‘learning to teach’; all classes went online and most staff were grappling with new technology and how to support students. I was in my (very) early fifties, moving from a path which I was navigating successfully, to one where I felt like a ‘pupil’ again, all knowledge and no experience. I love a challenge and because lockdown gave me the opportunity to spend time with my mum before she passed away, I was very enthusiastic to learn more about teaching in the short time that I had.
That first year of online teaching was a real eye-opener. We taught every class that would have taken place in person, live online instead. At that time all my colleagues at the Bar were waiting for Nightingale courts to get up and running and in the meantime did very little. I was working a full teaching schedule and feeling really invigorated. As the end of my fixed-term contract drew closer, I felt that I had so much more to learn and more importantly for me, that I had much more to contribute. The students were a diverse mix – UK and International, from all backgrounds. They were bright, curious, generally hardworking and a real joy to teach. I realised that I wasn’t ready to go back to practice.
When I was offered a permanent position, however, I wavered. Would my colleagues think I couldn’t hack it any longer, or had bottled it, choosing the ‘easy life’? Too many people still have these unfair preconceptions; we’ve all heard the old adage ‘those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach’ (shame on you George Bernard Shaw) but my own experience (teaching Bar students) is very far away from that disparaging suggestion.
Teaching is not an easy option. It requires patience, clarity and eloquence. It has very high expectations that the tutor is knowledgeable enough to be able to explain the intricacies and subtleties of planning and performing a cross-examination, for example, to someone who has no real experience other than an academic qualification. Teaching someone the skills they need to pursue a career at the Bar or as a lawyer, is much harder than going to court and having to deal with a difficult judge or a poorly prepared opponent, because these students want to know why it’s better to do something one way than another, and teachers need to be able to give them a genuine answer, preferably with real-life examples.
In the end I decided to take up the permanent post because I wanted more time with teaching. Each year that passes I take time to ask myself whether I should go back to practice, and so far the answer has been ‘no’. I read an article written by a barrister who had left the Bar to become an academic, taught on the Bar course, but within a few years found that it wasn’t for him and returned to practice. He cites struggling with being ‘employed’ and not being able to manage his own path – changes that I have also found difficult to adjust to, but for me the positives outweigh the negatives. I still forget that I am not expected to work for hours when I get home from court, or at weekends and have to be reminded that I am being paid to take holiday leave, and therefore should make the most of it!
Being involved in shaping the barristers of the future, passing on knowledge and experience, and seeing the students gain in confidence and determination is positively uplifting. Maybe I have been very lucky to teach at City Law School with likeminded colleagues, or maybe I have just been lucky with the students I have taught, but nearly five years on, I still think there is more I can achieve. Students often ask me if I miss practice and the answer is ‘yes’ – I miss being in court, I miss the lovely court staff, I miss cross-examining terrible witnesses and giving closing speeches, but if I left teaching now, I would miss the students more.
Teaching isn’t for everyone. But for some, like me, it has been a revelation. I am very fortunate to have discovered that a second career can be as rewarding as my first career. Anyone reading this, who thinks that maybe you have reached a crossroads, and are unsure which path to take, consider passing on your wisdom to the next generation – you could be guiding the barristers of the future towards a brilliant career.
Career crossroads? Is change really as good as a rest? Teaching has been a revelation for Alexia Zimbler who left practice to inspire the next generation of criminal barristers
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