This article originally appeared in the spring 2025 issue of Res Gestae.
As a young child, Michelle Oldroyd (JD ’00) already knew she would be a lawyer, a history professor, and an entrepreneur—because the lawyers she knew growing up in Washington, D.C., had achieved these goals.
“I was going to go to Georgetown—that was the law school down the street. Because my parents worked in the federal government, I knew lawyers who owned restaurants, and one owned a rare bookstore. I thought, If being a lawyer also means I can own a restaurant and have a rare bookstore and work at the FBI, then what could get better than that?” she recalls. “When you’re small, you don’t realize you can’t do one thing on a Tuesday, another thing on a Wednesday and on Friday go back to the bookstore.”
However, Oldroyd’s dreams changed when her father’s job with the FBI transferred him to Utah. She attended high school in Cottonwood Heights and says that while Georgetown was originally her hometown school, the University of Utah—and, by extension, the S.J. Quinney College of Law—took its place. Because she still had her sights set on becoming a lawyer, Oldroyd took advanced placement and concurrent enrollment classes while still in high school so she could earn her bachelor’s degree in two more years and take the next step toward a JD.
Getting an early start at Utah Law
“I actually applied to law school almost right out of high school, because you had to apply your junior year to be accepted at the time you expected to enroll in law school. All of my friends were just settling into their college routines, and I wondered if I should wait or gain some life experience,” she remembers. “I decided to just do it and be headstrong and insist that there was a spot for me. I was 19 when I started law school.”
The early days of law school as such a young student were both a challenge and a gift, Oldroyd says. She didn’t have a credit card when she started classes and was still living in her parents’ house. She also felt out of place next to others who’d had careers before deciding to attend Utah Law.
“When a contracts professor would say, ‘All of you have signed a contract,’ I would think to myself, Not really,” she says. “However, starting so young also gave me the chance to have a lengthy career in law, which felt like a luxury. I would be graduating with 40, maybe even 50 years worth of impact I could potentially take on and contribute to.”
Oldroyd resonates with the energy of law students who are itching for the next stage, especially as she looks back on her own education.
“The law school afforded me an opportunity to not only build my sense of purpose in the practice but my sense of confidence in myself. It was about cutting my teeth and starting to build the muscle that I hoped would let me make a difference in the community,” she says.
Creating a career in education and outreach
After law school, Oldroyd began her career as an alternative dispute resolution administrator and staff attorney for the U.S. District Court for the District of Utah, mediating complex litigation and employment matters for the court. As part of this role, she developed a community outreach and public education program to help both students and community members learn about and engage with the court system. Oldroyd also served as president of Utah Law’s Young Alumni Board.
“My early roles were classrooms that allowed me to continue to learn and experience both life and professional endeavors,” she says. “The law school was and is a place where I feel deeply comfortable, just like a courthouse. But courthouses and law schools can be places of fear and imposter syndrome. I wanted to have a place I recognized that fed me—and then I could choose to help feed others.”
Working as a mediator helped Oldroyd realize what she loves about law and also to have a different perspective on challenges.
“I’ve seen some of the most human moments of my life in courtrooms and with clients in negotiation settings. People are really vulnerable with each other, and it’s remarkable. It might be some of the worst moments of someone’s life, but you get to see them at their best because they’re trying and reaching for another person, wanting that connection,” she says. “I tell law students and young alumni I mentor not to lose that sense of connectivity and purpose—but don’t forget who you were before you came to law school. Bring all that lived experience, because the law is only better for it.”
While continuing her work at the U.S. District Court, Oldroyd broadened her passion for connection and taught Utah Law students for eight years as an adjunct professor. She also served as director of Utah’s Commission on Civic and Character Education, which oversees public school curriculum on becoming informed and responsible citizens.
“I feel an especially rich sense of passion and joy for helping young people in particular. I want them to sense how much I love being a lawyer and reach out to them in the relationships. I also feel it’s an opportunity to tell law students and really anyone who wants to be part of the legal community that there’s space for them,” she says. “I found early on that lawyering was about the people around me. It was about the alums I saw. It was about the practitioners who welcomed me to their offices as a student, someone who was willing to take me to lunch or invite me to shadow them and then talk about the meeting. Doing that now not only feels like a gift but a tremendous responsibility and opportunity.”
Creating a welcoming environment is also important to Oldroyd, as she recognizes the challenge of taking clients’ problems on top of your own.
“You’re a human being, too, and you have relationships and family and stresses yourself. I hope everyone finds people who hold them up, and that’s what I’m hoping for in mentoring others,” she says. “If something I’ve said helps a colleague keep going or sparks an idea or helps them feel supported, all the better. I know students today can use a cheerleader, even when law school has always been their dream.”
And that support means ensuring everyone is represented, especially when there isn’t consensus.
“‘Equal justice under law’ is not just a phrase carved on a building. It’s about who we are, how we speak and listen to one another. What we do in times when we disagree is the essence of the rule of law,” she says. “I have to make an effort to listen to people I disagree with, but I think that is the rigor of good lawyering. Your strategy and argument improve, and your rhetoric is driven by hearing someone who speaks with eloquence, grace and patience for other people. We have to find a way to interact with each other that shows respect.”
In 2017, Oldroyd accepted her current role as director of professional education at the Utah State Bar, in which she designs and hosts professional development courses on ethics, civility, and inclusion. Oldroyd also partners with universities and communities to ensure they understand law as a profession.
“This is a time where our courts and institutions are plagued with critique and criticism, even sometimes disrespect and misinformation. We as lawyers, as guardians of these institutions, owe it to them to find the truest sense of our purpose and a sense of hopefulness that it will allow us to be resilient enough to withstand the headwinds and keep going,” she says. “I try to be optimistic and surround myself with people that can offer a steadiness in times when I feel vulnerable. That, too, is the gift of lawyering: You can be that steadiness for your peers, colleagues, and firm.”
Leaning on a solid network of family members and colleagues
Though Oldroyd says she wouldn’t necessarily encourage her children to attend law school at age 19, she is grateful her parents were supportive and didn’t impede her goals more than 25 years ago.
“My mom said, ‘You can do this.’ She never said that I might struggle or skin my knees. It was more a sense of wanting to watch me chase this dream and giving me help whenever I needed support,” Oldroyd recalls. “Today, my steadiness comes from my husband and my children. We have four kids who all do different things and contribute in different ways, and I marvel at the ways they are good at what they do and that they’ve been resilient through things they’ve struggled with.”
She says she stands on the shoulders of gigantic teachers, including law school deans, professors, and peers, along with lawyers and judges who have been deeply generous.
“I’ve had a tremendous group of helpers behind me my whole life. I feel incredibly privileged to do this work and to do it in the place where I can raise my family and have my extended family around me,” she says. “I don’t know that anything gets better than loving your work and equally loving going home and luxuriating in that.”
Furthering S.J. Quinney’s legacy
Oldroyd recently received the Spirit of Quinney award at the annual Alumni Awards celebration, a recognition in honor of S.J. “Joe” Quinney, the law school’s namesake.
“Having my name spoken in the same sentence as Joe Quinney feels a little intimidating, but I also honestly feel a sense of responsibility to keep going. This is not the culmination of anything, and it propels me to whatever is next,” she says. “I hope we are all contributing in public service. I’ve had the privilege of working in all three branches of government, and it’s remarkable to see what you can influence even a local level. I think Joe Quinney is emblematic of that.”
Since Oldroyd defines herself not only as a lawyer but as a wife and mother, she relates to Quinney’s influence in law and in outdoor sports and the arts, in which he changed the landscape of what is offered in Utah.
“One thing I have always heard and read about Joe Quinney from his peers is how much he enjoyed and found resonance personally and professionally with the work. I define myself as a lawyer as much as I do someone’s mom or wife, so this validates my perspective about work and contributing to whatever I can in the world around me,” she says. “Thinking about Joe Quinney’s love for the arts, athletics, and the rigor of work speaks to all sides of his personality. Our work is deeply connected to all the things we do, both for enjoyment and professionally.”
Looking back over the last two decades since graduating from law school, Oldroyd says she is grateful that no one told her being a lawyer meant fitting into one box or doing one thing—though she hasn’t yet opened the bookstore she loved as a girl.
“From my perspective, a career in law meant a blank slate. Now it means I can carve out the spots I feel that maybe I can make a difference in,” she says. “I’m a big believer in some grand galvanized bucket that’s collecting all the drops we’re making, and somehow that all makes a big contribution. We might not be the one to change a Supreme Court decision or a national piece of legislation, but all of us leaning collectively together matters.”
While Oldroyd isn’t sure what the future holds in her career, she does know she’ll continue to build friendships and connect with others.
“I hope to help everyone find the place where they feel they can contribute—and not just a place, but an identity. If you want to wrap yourself in the law, if you want to really consume your professional time in the law, the system, the community, there’s room for that,” she says. “You can find all kinds of places to challenge yourself and change your point of view if you’re willing to be moved.”