Perhaps the most feared aspect of law school (even more so than grades, finding a job, the 120k debt, and even the thought that you are NOT the smartest person in the class) is being "On call."
Most are probably more familiar with its colloquial phrase, "the Socratic Method," obviously named after one of the most well known philosophers of all time (and quite possibly the ugliest. If you don't believe me, check out " http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Socrates " and decide whether even his mom could love that face. It might explain why he was so grumpy and decided to make a living by arguing with everyone. Don't worry Socrates, or "So-Craights," if you prefer Bill and Ted's pronunciation, you were still "the man").
However, the "Socratic Method" in law school is somewhat different in form, if not substance, than that of Socrates' times. While Socrates was truly concerned about his subjects getting at the "truth" for their own moral edification, I think law professors, despite their 'good' intentions are mostly using this as a teaching method for other students (and at the obvious pain of the person "on call"). Although no where near as perverse as the "medieval creativity" of seeing that
water + slab of wood + wet cloth+ shackles= water boarding (water boarding=torture thank you very much),
the designers of the modern "Socratic Method" who also "creativity" thought that singling a student out + asking unanswerable questions + demonstrating the professor's superior command of the law = good legal education must be of the same mind (and must have been aware of the potential psychological impact that some, especially law students!, would argue is not to far from psychological torture, with long term and potentially irreversible ramifications). Some see this as a right of passage. The sane, however, realize the absurdity of the "Socratic Method" and the utter sham of the claim that it will somehow make us better lawyers (it is analogous to a parent who somehow thinks that it would make her 5 year old daughter more "mature" if she was forced to watch "Child's Play" before she could play with dolls).
Most of the psychological torture occurs prior to actually being "on call." Hearing the horror stories from upper classman or from retired attorneys who barely know who is president or what day it is but can recite minute by minute, detailed accounts of what the professor asked and what it felt like to be in his seat in 1923 is enough to keep one up for hours (as it did me). I remember talking to a few upper level students at the orientation BBQ outside the law school prior to the first day. I didn't want to come off as the typical "terrified 1L" and so was reluctant to ask what exactly being "On Call" entailed. But the fear of the unknown, and the fear of the horror stories, outweighed my social anxiety and so I finally asked. What followed was synchronized nervous laughter followed by profoundly awkward silence.
They knew what I was asking. They had been there, at that same BBQ, asking the same question that I asked the year or two before. What had them silent now? Why was no one speaking?
One upperclassman, tanned, bearded, sporting shorts and sandals (obviously a 3L) finally answered, "You'll see." Perhaps my immense dissatisfaction with that response was blatantly obvious to the other upper classmen who (unsuccessfully) tried to do damage control with "Don't worry, it's not THAT bad" or "You'll survive."
Thanks guys...
*****
After the blasting of the trumpet while the professor yelled "who am I?" and all the craziness of going to the wrong classroom, and going to countless seminars, info sessions, training, etc., I stopped worrying about what it would be like to be "On call." For consistency with the shark analogy in the previous post, it was similar to planning an awesome weekend at the beach and the week before your trip you hear that there was a shark attack "not too far" from the beach that you had planned to visit. Immediately after hearing this, you obviously think about canceling your plans, but after reflecting on it (how frequent are attacks anyway?) and after several days go by, you may have other things to think about. So then the weekend comes and somehow you've decided you really would like to go (after all, you don't necessarily have to go swimming since the water is probably cold and the ocean is probably polluted anyway or maybe you could just dip your toes in). So you're at the beach, the sun is blazing, the lemonade runs out, and it's time for a swim. You see others cheerfully frolicking in the water so finally you decide to kick off your sandals, throw off the glasses, splatter yourself (and whoever is sitting beside you) with sunblock while rubbing globs of it (along with a ton of sand) onto your face, and march straight towards the water. As soon as you get ankle deep, you realize how wonderful that cool water feels and imagine how amazing it will be to cool off the rest of your body with a good swim. Then, suddenly, you stop as a thought leaps out of no where -"Sharks, or at least the big one's, can't swim in 8 inches of water right?" After pondering the absurdity of this question, you quickly scan the water for larger, meatier individuals than yourself (as well as the small, pale and sickly type since those are the most likely to be noticed first by your dorsal fin friend) and realize that there are plenty of other "targets" so maybe you are safe to go waste deep (but no deeper).
Instead of going to the beach for a dip, my "plan" was going to class while hopping (no praying!) that I would not be called on. Like the above beach-goer, I too scanned for the "meatier" students that were more likely to be picked by the fin (students with 4 inch glasses, 400 pages of notes for 3 cases, 50 highlighters and a recorder) and the "sickly type" (those with pizza stains on their shirts who smelled like Coors and brought their beer pong ball to class). After scanning the predicted targets, I thought it couldn't hurt to review my case book one more time before class in case the fin somehow chose me.
Other students had been called on that first week. I remember exactly how it went. First, the nervous murmurs of people trying to quickly review the cases in the off chance that today was "their day." Second, the deafening silence 1 minute before class started when the professor would stroll in, toss his books onto the podium, thumb through his notes, and then, most dramatically, unroll the seating chart with all of our names and pictures and scan the page for his 'victim' of the day (the seats we sat in the first day became our assigned seats for the year). Finally, the professor would call the person by their last name adding "Mr." or "Ms" as part of the ancient law school tradition, pause for dramatic effect (more accurately, the professor needed to give the student time to retrieve their heart from their stomach, as well as the notes that had just fallen all over the floor, before the student could actually form intelligible words again) and then commence the intellectual torture session.
My session would come on the second day...
(To be continued shortly!)
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Law School Day 1
*The following events are real (real meaning based on my reality as I
experienced it), the names of the people within have been omitted to
protect their true identity and to prevent lawsuits (especially
defamation).*
---------------------------------------------
So there we all were… Room 120…waiting for our first official law
school course to commence – Property.
"Would I be on call first?," the question that robbed us of our
peace, sense of dignity, and (perhaps most importantly) our sleep.
Eyes darted around the room restlessly, uneasily… As mine wandered, I
noticed the curious pastel colors that brimmed so many of my student's
casebooks, a testimony to their obsession with highlighting, but more
importantly, to the effects of the first day of law school and the
terror of the unknown. I marveled at the sheer number of notes some
of my fellow students had compiled for this first day, but the volume
itself betrayed how each one of us felt. It would not exceed the
bounds of reason to say that we felt like a pack of seals, tirelessly
thrashing about as we chased an evasive school of fish in the early
morning hours, knowing we too were being hunted. It was the same
feeling those seals have when suddenly, all of the fish disappear…
The visceral, sharp mental and abdominal pain of realizing why the
fish vanished…the precise moment before the kill…
I looked at the clock, 10:59, heard the door slam shut, the nervous
murmurs disappeared like the prescient fish.
The immense dorsal fin pierced the surface.
Enter our Professor.
At that exact moment, I felt like my seat, the floor, the ground,
everything supporting me had instantly fallen away. That I was
plunged into the frigid water with the seals, and the massive fin was
going to circle the pack before inevitably turning towards me.
Professor was dressed like Professor Kingsfield (from the Paper
Chase). Behind the small glasses and bowtie stood a grayed, tall,
and empowered man. He held a mangled trumpet in his left hand as his
eyes carefully scanned the room. He knew exactly how we felt and he
was going to let us writhe in suspense for as long as possible.
Suddenly, from the lungs of a bull elephant, he shouted, "Who am I?!!"
Silence…
His hand squeezed the poor trumpet.
The scanning turned into glaring, and with even greater force he yelled, "WHO AM I?"
A death hush choked us.
One student managed to escape the clutches of silence and squeaked out, "Professor P?"
With the thunder clap of Zeus – "WRONG!"
I didn't know exactly where I was at that moment, but I was certain that I was no longer among the land of the living.
Professor slowly raised his trumpet, siphoning the oxygen from the room into his chest, and with the force of a hurricane of mythical proportions, blasted the frail horn.
At that instant, all of the demons that had clouded our notion of reality were slain.
A ROAR OF LAUGHTER
Not wasting a moment's opportunity, Professor again erupted "WHO AM I?
One brave student, feeling empowered by the trumpet blast and eager to show his brilliance shouted back, "Post!"
(Post was the Defendant in the case we were assigned to read for that day)
Professor "GOOD! Now, what color is my coat?"
Silence…
Professor was in fact not wearing a coat of any sort. Bowtie, white plaid shirt, brown plaid pants, but no jacket.
Were we slipping from the bedrock of reality back into our previous, neurotic state of dementia so quickly?
Silence
Professor, "WHAT COLOR IS MY COAT!?"
Trying to gather my thoughts at that moment was like single handedly rounding up a heard of 10,000 stampeding buffalo during a thunderstorm.
Wait a minute...the professor is Post! The color, the color... I frantically flipped through my casebook. I too had scarred my $140 casebook w/ hieroglyphics and markings. Color? Coat? Where does it say that in our book? I had spent 6 hours reading this case, re-reading, again
and again. I could tell you the court's reasoning. I could tell yo why this case was important. I could even tell you the dissent, and why it was less rational than the majority opinion and even the policy implications of both opinions.
How could I miss something so simple? Doubt began to crush my confidence.
Another brave and brilliant student shouted – "RED"
Professor – "EXCELLENT!"
I could feel the whole room lifting itself from the ground and begin to spin in a massive vortex.
Professor, screaming and gesticulating like a manically conductor, "Am I riding a horse?!"
Another highly intelligent student shouted – "Yes"
Was that a lucky guess? How did she know our Professor, pretending to be Post, was riding a horse?
As Professor kept firing off these obscure (or at least non-obvious) questions while the students responded with equal speed, I felt as though we were all given new wings to fly but were expected to just "figure it out." One by one everyone else seemed to be taking flight and soaring high as my wings had left me grounded and alone.
Then, as though Professor had spotted me from the heights of heaven and had seen that I was unable to fly, he asked pointedly, "and how do you know I'm on a horse?"
The vortex had screeched to a halt. All those fledgling students who had seemed to so readily pick up flying were at once back with me, shackled to the earth.
I normally wouldn't be excited by another's downfall, but I was beginning to feel like everyone knew the answer to these "basic" questions and my whole assurance that I would succeed in law school was about to receive a death sentence.
Professor, trying to get the momentum moving again asked, "Does it say so in the text?"
Silence…
At last! My colleagues were again unable to answer. In my excitement I let out a faint cheer.
Professor – "Turning to page 24, in the dissent on footnote B, what
does it say?"
(Quoted)
"But who would keep a pack of hounds; or what gentleman, at the sound
of the horn, and at peep of day, would mount his steed, and for hours
together, "sub jove frigido," or a vertical sun, pursue the windings
of this wily quadruped, if, just as night came on, and his stratagems
and strength were nearly exhausted, a saucy intruder, who had not
shared in the honours or labours of the chase, were permitted to come
in at the death, and bear away in triumph the object of pursuit?"
(That's one sentence. Did you see "steed"? If so, could you also tell me what that sentence was about without re-reading it? If you could, you are preordained for law school.)
Compared to the questions prior, this was "easy."
**********
During the remainder of the class we examined the social-political aspects of the case, Pierson v. Post. I didn't realize that law school would expect us to learn the obscure rules, their 10,000 exceptions and the 19,000 exception to the exceptions (and learning that "exception" in legalese means an objection to be preserved on appeal, but no one will tell you that) in addition to learning what influences judges, including their social status and local biases. Surprising, but
highly practical.
The other classes of that day, Legal Reasoning and Torts, were equally
fast paced, stimulating, exciting and scary.
At the end of that wild day, I felt like I had competed in a mental triathlon without having any practice or training.
I was exhausted: physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I had survived my first day of law school and had an impossible amount of reading and class preparation to do all over again with little time and even less sleep.
This would be my life and it was only the first day.
As I lay in bed, trying to find peace amidst my torrential thoughts, I reflected on all that had happened. I then sighed, smiled, and said to myself, "Welcome to law school."
experienced it), the names of the people within have been omitted to
protect their true identity and to prevent lawsuits (especially
defamation).*
---------------------------------------------
So there we all were… Room 120…waiting for our first official law
school course to commence – Property.
"Would I be on call first?," the question that robbed us of our
peace, sense of dignity, and (perhaps most importantly) our sleep.
Eyes darted around the room restlessly, uneasily… As mine wandered, I
noticed the curious pastel colors that brimmed so many of my student's
casebooks, a testimony to their obsession with highlighting, but more
importantly, to the effects of the first day of law school and the
terror of the unknown. I marveled at the sheer number of notes some
of my fellow students had compiled for this first day, but the volume
itself betrayed how each one of us felt. It would not exceed the
bounds of reason to say that we felt like a pack of seals, tirelessly
thrashing about as we chased an evasive school of fish in the early
morning hours, knowing we too were being hunted. It was the same
feeling those seals have when suddenly, all of the fish disappear…
The visceral, sharp mental and abdominal pain of realizing why the
fish vanished…the precise moment before the kill…
I looked at the clock, 10:59, heard the door slam shut, the nervous
murmurs disappeared like the prescient fish.
The immense dorsal fin pierced the surface.
Enter our Professor.
At that exact moment, I felt like my seat, the floor, the ground,
everything supporting me had instantly fallen away. That I was
plunged into the frigid water with the seals, and the massive fin was
going to circle the pack before inevitably turning towards me.
Professor was dressed like Professor Kingsfield (from the Paper
Chase). Behind the small glasses and bowtie stood a grayed, tall,
and empowered man. He held a mangled trumpet in his left hand as his
eyes carefully scanned the room. He knew exactly how we felt and he
was going to let us writhe in suspense for as long as possible.
Suddenly, from the lungs of a bull elephant, he shouted, "Who am I?!!"
Silence…
His hand squeezed the poor trumpet.
The scanning turned into glaring, and with even greater force he yelled, "WHO AM I?"
A death hush choked us.
One student managed to escape the clutches of silence and squeaked out, "Professor P?"
With the thunder clap of Zeus – "WRONG!"
I didn't know exactly where I was at that moment, but I was certain that I was no longer among the land of the living.
Professor slowly raised his trumpet, siphoning the oxygen from the room into his chest, and with the force of a hurricane of mythical proportions, blasted the frail horn.
At that instant, all of the demons that had clouded our notion of reality were slain.
A ROAR OF LAUGHTER
Not wasting a moment's opportunity, Professor again erupted "WHO AM I?
One brave student, feeling empowered by the trumpet blast and eager to show his brilliance shouted back, "Post!"
(Post was the Defendant in the case we were assigned to read for that day)
Professor "GOOD! Now, what color is my coat?"
Silence…
Professor was in fact not wearing a coat of any sort. Bowtie, white plaid shirt, brown plaid pants, but no jacket.
Were we slipping from the bedrock of reality back into our previous, neurotic state of dementia so quickly?
Silence
Professor, "WHAT COLOR IS MY COAT!?"
Trying to gather my thoughts at that moment was like single handedly rounding up a heard of 10,000 stampeding buffalo during a thunderstorm.
Wait a minute...the professor is Post! The color, the color... I frantically flipped through my casebook. I too had scarred my $140 casebook w/ hieroglyphics and markings. Color? Coat? Where does it say that in our book? I had spent 6 hours reading this case, re-reading, again
and again. I could tell you the court's reasoning. I could tell yo why this case was important. I could even tell you the dissent, and why it was less rational than the majority opinion and even the policy implications of both opinions.
How could I miss something so simple? Doubt began to crush my confidence.
Another brave and brilliant student shouted – "RED"
Professor – "EXCELLENT!"
I could feel the whole room lifting itself from the ground and begin to spin in a massive vortex.
Professor, screaming and gesticulating like a manically conductor, "Am I riding a horse?!"
Another highly intelligent student shouted – "Yes"
Was that a lucky guess? How did she know our Professor, pretending to be Post, was riding a horse?
As Professor kept firing off these obscure (or at least non-obvious) questions while the students responded with equal speed, I felt as though we were all given new wings to fly but were expected to just "figure it out." One by one everyone else seemed to be taking flight and soaring high as my wings had left me grounded and alone.
Then, as though Professor had spotted me from the heights of heaven and had seen that I was unable to fly, he asked pointedly, "and how do you know I'm on a horse?"
The vortex had screeched to a halt. All those fledgling students who had seemed to so readily pick up flying were at once back with me, shackled to the earth.
I normally wouldn't be excited by another's downfall, but I was beginning to feel like everyone knew the answer to these "basic" questions and my whole assurance that I would succeed in law school was about to receive a death sentence.
Professor, trying to get the momentum moving again asked, "Does it say so in the text?"
Silence…
At last! My colleagues were again unable to answer. In my excitement I let out a faint cheer.
Professor – "Turning to page 24, in the dissent on footnote B, what
does it say?"
(Quoted)
"But who would keep a pack of hounds; or what gentleman, at the sound
of the horn, and at peep of day, would mount his steed, and for hours
together, "sub jove frigido," or a vertical sun, pursue the windings
of this wily quadruped, if, just as night came on, and his stratagems
and strength were nearly exhausted, a saucy intruder, who had not
shared in the honours or labours of the chase, were permitted to come
in at the death, and bear away in triumph the object of pursuit?"
(That's one sentence. Did you see "steed"? If so, could you also tell me what that sentence was about without re-reading it? If you could, you are preordained for law school.)
Compared to the questions prior, this was "easy."
**********
During the remainder of the class we examined the social-political aspects of the case, Pierson v. Post. I didn't realize that law school would expect us to learn the obscure rules, their 10,000 exceptions and the 19,000 exception to the exceptions (and learning that "exception" in legalese means an objection to be preserved on appeal, but no one will tell you that) in addition to learning what influences judges, including their social status and local biases. Surprising, but
highly practical.
The other classes of that day, Legal Reasoning and Torts, were equally
fast paced, stimulating, exciting and scary.
At the end of that wild day, I felt like I had competed in a mental triathlon without having any practice or training.
I was exhausted: physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I had survived my first day of law school and had an impossible amount of reading and class preparation to do all over again with little time and even less sleep.
This would be my life and it was only the first day.
As I lay in bed, trying to find peace amidst my torrential thoughts, I reflected on all that had happened. I then sighed, smiled, and said to myself, "Welcome to law school."
I have not read 1L by Scott Turrow so if any of this seems "familiar" it's purely a coincidence and is just a product of a common experience - the first year in law school.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
High School Part II (this one's long...)
So there we were...two hundred something 1Ls standing in a big, awkward circle (irregular oval might be more accurate) trying to size up each other without looking too cool, too anti-social. This moment, prior to the start of the events to come, was reminiscent of the children's story, Ugly duckling. But instead of asking, "are you my mother" a slightly more sophisticated query came out of our soon to be refined lawyer's lips - "are you in my section?" (The entering class at BC is 260+ divided into 3 sections).
Welcome to Field day, 2008 at BC Law.
So what could they, the experienced and inducted 2Ls/3Ls, have in store for the fledgling 1Ls to help us "loosen up" today before we learn to think,write, sleep, eat and speak (not lie!) "like lawyers" this fall?
Answer: High School Icebreakers.
These are the dreaded, "say your name and an item that begins with the first letter of your first name that you will 'bring to the picnic'" Picnic?
Ex: "Hi, my name is Ted and I'm bringing Twinkies to the picnic." Just for clarification - there is no picnic.
So after Ted says his name and what he's bringing, it goes to the next person, say Leslie, who is bringing Lumpia, etc. If you never played this game in high school or college, consider yourself blessed. It's not worth detailing how the game is played, but I think one thing that most people agree on is that it's awkward.
Buy hey, we're going to be lawyers! We're going to negotiate million dollar contracts over breakfast, convict mobsters before the end of lunch, and impeach senators by dinner! What's a little awkwardness going to do? I digress...
Then, after about 20 minutes of icebreakers (I ended up remembering only 2 peoples names out of a group of 20 and they are not in my section) we had an egg toss. Egg toss?
On the West coast, we play Balloon toss. That's where you stand in one of two lines facing each other and toss a balloon back and forth and after each toss you take a giant step back. You keep playing until your egg breaks. The consequence - you get a little wet (no biggie as they say). East Coast - Egg toss!? Same rules except, as Bostonians say, "we aint tahssen no whaatah hea" (translation - we are not using water balloons). The consequences are obviously less pleasant.
I decided to lose and to lose early. It's hot and there are no bathrooms nearby. I had a feeling that any possible reward of winning (which was slim considering my partner could bare hold the egg) aint worth it. So after two tosses I threw it short so my partner couldn't grab it. Didn't spill on his shoes or clothes. We lose, big deal. No messy egg everywhere. I think out of 200 people, those who stayed in past 3 rounds were thinking about making omelets. Enough said.
The game after that was a chicken toss (a rubber one thankfully). It's easy to play but hard to explain so I'll spare you.
Lunch was nice - subway and Doritos and water/lemonade/iced tea. I sat with one student who went to BC as an undergrad and another from Iowa state. Both really nice people. It seems students do many different interesting things before they come to law school.
But then the real fun began.
"Okay everyone, we have one last activity" shouted the 2L. Our choices were 1. Ultimate Frisbee (fun if there are no other options. Pass...) 2. Kickball (not as fun as ultimate so definitely passing...) and 3. Flag Football. FOOTBALL!!!?? You can guess which one I picked...
I was on the green team, our nemesis, the red team. The rules were a little different than any I'd heard of - lineman have to put their hands behind their backs to block. WHAT?? For those of you who don't know, I played offensive linemen in high school and I take SERIOUS pride in that position. No hands?
I used my pre-developed advocacy skills to try to convince the 2L officiating the game that it's a bad idea and we should be allowed to use hands. He listened, we could now use hands (for those who do not really play sports, playing offensive line without hands, when the defense COULD use their hands, is like being a security guard at a bank without a gun when 100 mobsters are trying to rob your bank with machine guns. Again, enough said.
The hardest part about playing two hand touch (we ended up not having flags) for me was trying to remember that this is not full-pad football. One of the first comments about me by the other team was, "look out fah this guy, he's lookin pretty angry."
I apologized at least 20 times for knocking people down - the quarterback, the person trying to block me (poor 110 pounder) or anyone else who got in my way. I started getting triple teamed towards the end so I had to get creative by being a hybrid linebacker/tackle. I did break up one pass (I would have intercepted it if I had my gloves!), hurried the quarterback 5+ times and basically had the sporting session of my life since high school football season ended in 2000. Oh, and I was the only lineman playing barefoot.
So after all the icebreakers and fluffy stuff ended earlier, and our team came so close to winning (lost by 1 touchdown in the last few seconds) I wiped off the sweat and blood (what's football without blood?) and thought to myself, "what better way to start law school?"
Turns out there's a "football Fridays" every week that begins after my last class ends. Guess who'll be there...
It may not be anything like the Friday night's in high school with the crisp breeze, the freshly cut grass, and the whole town piling into the stadium to watch their heroes battle, but "it'z shoah betta than nuttin."
P.S. If any of the 2Ls or 3Ls were slightly offended by this post (I highly doubt you're reading this but just in case), I'm sorry. I had a great time and you guys all did a great job. After the icebreakers ended, I really enjoyed myself and I know I wasn't the only one.
-J
P.P.S. Sorry I haven't responded to all of your emails. Thanks for reading and I'll try to get back to you ASAP.
Welcome to Field day, 2008 at BC Law.
So what could they, the experienced and inducted 2Ls/3Ls, have in store for the fledgling 1Ls to help us "loosen up" today before we learn to think,write, sleep, eat and speak (not lie!) "like lawyers" this fall?
Answer: High School Icebreakers.
These are the dreaded, "say your name and an item that begins with the first letter of your first name that you will 'bring to the picnic'" Picnic?
Ex: "Hi, my name is Ted and I'm bringing Twinkies to the picnic." Just for clarification - there is no picnic.
So after Ted says his name and what he's bringing, it goes to the next person, say Leslie, who is bringing Lumpia, etc. If you never played this game in high school or college, consider yourself blessed. It's not worth detailing how the game is played, but I think one thing that most people agree on is that it's awkward.
Buy hey, we're going to be lawyers! We're going to negotiate million dollar contracts over breakfast, convict mobsters before the end of lunch, and impeach senators by dinner! What's a little awkwardness going to do? I digress...
Then, after about 20 minutes of icebreakers (I ended up remembering only 2 peoples names out of a group of 20 and they are not in my section) we had an egg toss. Egg toss?
On the West coast, we play Balloon toss. That's where you stand in one of two lines facing each other and toss a balloon back and forth and after each toss you take a giant step back. You keep playing until your egg breaks. The consequence - you get a little wet (no biggie as they say). East Coast - Egg toss!? Same rules except, as Bostonians say, "we aint tahssen no whaatah hea" (translation - we are not using water balloons). The consequences are obviously less pleasant.
I decided to lose and to lose early. It's hot and there are no bathrooms nearby. I had a feeling that any possible reward of winning (which was slim considering my partner could bare hold the egg) aint worth it. So after two tosses I threw it short so my partner couldn't grab it. Didn't spill on his shoes or clothes. We lose, big deal. No messy egg everywhere. I think out of 200 people, those who stayed in past 3 rounds were thinking about making omelets. Enough said.
The game after that was a chicken toss (a rubber one thankfully). It's easy to play but hard to explain so I'll spare you.
Lunch was nice - subway and Doritos and water/lemonade/iced tea. I sat with one student who went to BC as an undergrad and another from Iowa state. Both really nice people. It seems students do many different interesting things before they come to law school.
But then the real fun began.
"Okay everyone, we have one last activity" shouted the 2L. Our choices were 1. Ultimate Frisbee (fun if there are no other options. Pass...) 2. Kickball (not as fun as ultimate so definitely passing...) and 3. Flag Football. FOOTBALL!!!?? You can guess which one I picked...
I was on the green team, our nemesis, the red team. The rules were a little different than any I'd heard of - lineman have to put their hands behind their backs to block. WHAT?? For those of you who don't know, I played offensive linemen in high school and I take SERIOUS pride in that position. No hands?
I used my pre-developed advocacy skills to try to convince the 2L officiating the game that it's a bad idea and we should be allowed to use hands. He listened, we could now use hands (for those who do not really play sports, playing offensive line without hands, when the defense COULD use their hands, is like being a security guard at a bank without a gun when 100 mobsters are trying to rob your bank with machine guns. Again, enough said.
The hardest part about playing two hand touch (we ended up not having flags) for me was trying to remember that this is not full-pad football. One of the first comments about me by the other team was, "look out fah this guy, he's lookin pretty angry."
I apologized at least 20 times for knocking people down - the quarterback, the person trying to block me (poor 110 pounder) or anyone else who got in my way. I started getting triple teamed towards the end so I had to get creative by being a hybrid linebacker/tackle. I did break up one pass (I would have intercepted it if I had my gloves!), hurried the quarterback 5+ times and basically had the sporting session of my life since high school football season ended in 2000. Oh, and I was the only lineman playing barefoot.
So after all the icebreakers and fluffy stuff ended earlier, and our team came so close to winning (lost by 1 touchdown in the last few seconds) I wiped off the sweat and blood (what's football without blood?) and thought to myself, "what better way to start law school?"
Turns out there's a "football Fridays" every week that begins after my last class ends. Guess who'll be there...
It may not be anything like the Friday night's in high school with the crisp breeze, the freshly cut grass, and the whole town piling into the stadium to watch their heroes battle, but "it'z shoah betta than nuttin."
P.S. If any of the 2Ls or 3Ls were slightly offended by this post (I highly doubt you're reading this but just in case), I'm sorry. I had a great time and you guys all did a great job. After the icebreakers ended, I really enjoyed myself and I know I wasn't the only one.
-J
P.P.S. Sorry I haven't responded to all of your emails. Thanks for reading and I'll try to get back to you ASAP.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Weekend before classes August 22, 2008
So after seventeen years of education (I had a super-senior year), hundreds of hours in preparation for the LSAT, and almost a year of waiting for admissions responses, I begin my professional journey in law school this Monday. How does one describe the range of feelings? My classmate summed it up in three words - "Triumph and terror."
What exactly are we going to do on our first day? Do they really expect us to memorize ALL those pages, write a dissertation and defend it? 2Ls and 3Ls offer words of comfort: "Nothing can prepare you for your first year of law school" (that's helpful). Throw on the endless readings that some describe as being like "stirring concrete with your eyelids," a little debt somewhere in the neighborhood of 140k, a declining economy, and the rise in law school graduates and now you're starting to get a sense of life as a 1L (no pressure).
I hope to keep a brief log of daily events so I don't have to retell the same story over and over again. I believe this will be therapeutic, (hopefully) entertaining, and will serve as my diary to look back upon one day if global warming or terrorists haven't done us in already. Let the games begin...
-J
What exactly are we going to do on our first day? Do they really expect us to memorize ALL those pages, write a dissertation and defend it? 2Ls and 3Ls offer words of comfort: "Nothing can prepare you for your first year of law school" (that's helpful). Throw on the endless readings that some describe as being like "stirring concrete with your eyelids," a little debt somewhere in the neighborhood of 140k, a declining economy, and the rise in law school graduates and now you're starting to get a sense of life as a 1L (no pressure).
I hope to keep a brief log of daily events so I don't have to retell the same story over and over again. I believe this will be therapeutic, (hopefully) entertaining, and will serve as my diary to look back upon one day if global warming or terrorists haven't done us in already. Let the games begin...
-J
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