The Cure for Feelings of Anonymity

Recipe:

1. Read the assigned reading for class X.
2. Forget to brief (outline) a case found in the reading.
3. Get called on by unrelenting professor.
4. Throw in a mix of aforementioned anxiety about being called upon.
5. Have the professor constantly mispronounce your name.
6. Add in periodic silences in which you frantically try to say something smart.
7. Let steep for 15 minutes.
8. Once cooked, people from near and far will give you that “aw shucks” look or a pat on the back, saying everyone will have their day.

My day, of course, had to be the one day I didn’t brief a case. Not because I purposefully put it off, but I just forgot. No excuses. Just. plain. forgot.

Note to future 1L’s: Always brief your cases!

The upside to this debacle is that now people know how not to say my name, I’ve talked to people I wouldn’t have otherwise and I can’t look more stupid than I did today. That means anything I say in the future will sound like words descending from the heavens above. I should just be a judge.

Lay Down the Law!

Low Fat Despair

For one shining moment yesterday, I felt beat down. Drained.

No, I haven't recently been "jumped in" by the 2Ls and 3Ls. No, I didn't drop a volume of the Oregon Revised Statutes on my head, causing a mild concussion (actually, what is today?).

It has something to do with excitement waning and reality waxing...and something to do with the bone crushing, soul stealing, life destroying machinery that is our American criminal justice system. Maybe that's too dramatic. But maybe not.

As of right now, Crim Law is my favorite class. In addition to our primary casebook, we're reading "Courtroom 302" by Steve Bogira. What's the book about? Well..."A year behind the scenes in an American criminal courthouse" is what it says on the cover.

The book holds your attention, the writing is crisp, and the author introduces you to a wide variety of cases, criminals, judges, and attorneys; he also weaves in history and the development of our modern criminal justice system. And if that's not enough for you, the courthouse and courtroom 302 are in Chicago. The Windy City! Bratwurst and ballgames and mobsters!

So, I like the book but I find it difficult to read at times. Only the parts where the brown residents of Chicago confess to crimes and the confessions were extracted by torture in police station basements. Only the parts where the brown residents of Chicago are sent to jail and evidence which might have cast a reasonable doubt is withheld, misfiled, destroyed, etc. Only the parts where the brown residents of Chicago are...I suppose you get the idea.

For one shining moment yesterday, I felt beat down. Drained.

Power to the people.

Testing the Water and Drowning

It is only the second day and I feel overwhelmed by the perceived amount of work ahead of me, which is rendering me totally useless. I have had those moments of affirmation while reading a case and becoming so immersed that I think I made the right choice.

Then I go to class.

The professor poses questions that, for some reason, the answer I cannot seem to infer or deduce from the reading. Not that the questions are hard, but my mind goes blank and then the anxiety rises when I begin to imagine the professor calling my name and I respond in a stuttering stream of nonsense. I comfort myself with the thought that there are many others like me that feel the same way. Those that pray they aren’t called upon, lest they blank as 100 pairs of eyes descend upon their reddening cheeks and trembling hands.

What I am really worried about is meeting my friend embarrassment tomorrow.

Despite my well-intentioned and valiant efforts to engage myself in readings regarding the history of our Constitution and various writings by John Locke and James Madison, I cannot. Tomorrow, I will be testing the notion that 1L’s cannot possibly read everything assigned and some readings must be sacrificed for the greater good… and still survive class.

Lay Down the Law!

Oh, you were "that guy"

There I was, 20 minutes early before the second day of orientation, waiting patiently in a predetermined classroom to begin our three-hour session on briefing cases and bonding with our fellow “pod” members.

pod
n 1: the vessel that contains the seeds of a plant (not the seeds
themselves) (http://dictionary.die.net/pod)

In our warm cocoon filled with seedlings ready to sprout, we talked about the IRAC (acronym alert!) method, worked out a hypothetical that dealt with neighbors and killing them (queue ominous music), and what to expect in our Legal Analysis and Writing class. Things were going swell for this little seedling until attendance was taken.

What happened to this seedling’s name? Was it over looked? If this seedling wasn’t supposed to be in this pod, then where was his warm, life-giving nest? Did his real pod leave him behind, stranded without a home, left to find shelter in the billowy depths of the cold, brown, and sometimes manure-laden soil? As the all-knowing and powerful vessel transitioned smoothly back into the neighbor killing hypothetical (which, by the way, is a sore subject for crammed and sometimes irritable seedlings), the little seedling spoke to inform the great vessel of his dilemma.

I was “that guy” today that nobody wants to be. I was that guy that demonstrated his skillful use of reading and analysis by walking into the wrong pod. That guy that instead of stating his name and what he did in the past year, had to explain in front of everyone why he thinks he’s in the right class. That guy that people shake their heads at or curl their lips, silently thanking the powers that be that they are not “that guy”.

But, my friends, I’m not going to fret. I am going to allow this moment and all of its feelings to sink in because I know there will be many more like this. I might as well get over it and move on. The lesson has been learned and the embarrassment embraced. We’ve hugged it out and parted ways, knowing one day we’ll meet again. And when we do I’ll ask embarrassment to introduce me to his friends he’s made along the way in his 1L journey.

Lay Down the Law!

Eyes Wide Open

It finally happened. The official “freak-out” moment descended upon me, waking me out of my peaceful sleep at 4:30 in the morning. I’ve been spoiled with a month of vacation between work and school and was already not looking forward to waking up by alarm at 6:45, but 4:30 is pushing it.

Today marks the day that alarm clocks are king once more and books are no longer read out of a desire to satisfy the imagination. Please excuse me while I enjoy my last hour of freedom.

Lay Down the Law!

G-u-n-n-e-r-s

Two days ago, I walked in to my first law school class, sat down, and waited for the magic to begin. As I pulled my legal pad out of my bag, I scanned the room, trying to predict which of my classmates would be unfortunately subjected to the Socratic method I had heard so much about. I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't be me (which should be read: I prayed in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't be me). 

I also surveyed the scene before me with a more critical gaze, trying to determine which students were hoping to be called on the first day of class. I suppose I wanted to catch a glimpse of the elusive gunner, an animal which hides in the shadows of the law school jungle, salivating for an opportunity to impress the professors. And that got me thinking: What are the characteristics of a gunner? What is their true natural habitat? Where do they come from? Why do they behave in such a peculiar manner? What do they eat? And finally, do law professors hunt them or protect them?  

The joke (not that it's necessarily funny) goes something like this: If you don't know who the gunners are by the second or third day of class, it's you.

I didn't get called on. And, as predicted (and somewhat hoped for so I could see the rare beasts), the gunners came out of the shadows rather quickly, teeth flashing, hands stretched towards the heavens every time the professor asked a question. When there were no questions to answer, the gunners invented their own (usually consisting of multiple parts). They asked about the syllabus, office hours, study groups, study aids, final exams, the grading curve, the sun, the moon, the earth, and the sky. There's really only one way to describe it: incredible. And distracting. And hilarious.

My plan, good people, is to capture a gunner alive, bring it back to the lab, and perform more extensive tests. It will be a challenge but one that I'm very willing to accept. I will publish my findings as they become available...

Power to the people.

 

Oregontation

Orientation was two and a half days of advice from upper-division students, faculty, staff, attorneys, judges, deans…and we also got a lot of free coffee. A 1L who has yet to take a law class is trapped in a very specific kind of way, subject to an endless barrage of “if you hold on to one piece of advice, what I’m about to tell you is THE ONE you should hold closest to your 1L heart.”

Four faculty members briefly introduced us to the life of a law student, civil procedure, how to read cases, and how to brief cases. You should have seen it: the faculty members lectured and the 1Ls banged away at their laptops with the Fastest Fingers in the West. It was quite impressive and somewhat odd. Is this what class is going to be like? I’m afraid that one of my classmates is going to destroy a keyboard on the second or third day of the semester, sending a stray “L” key towards my left eye.

Anyway, I survived orientation and I may sell my fellow 1Ls tee-shirts that say I SURVIVED OREGONTATION. The end result is that I now have homework due on the first day of every single class: Torts, Criminal Law, Contracts, Civil Procedure, and Legal Research and Writing. As I get further into the semester, I’m sure I’ll increase my use of acronyms. Okay…not Legal Research and Writing but LRW. Happy?

Power to the people.

In the Beginning...

The idea of orientation starting on August 21st has not quite hit me yet. The obsessive thoughts of law school during the application process and the worn cuticles that ensue have faded into a comfortable feeling of ease. No gray hairs have sprouted and I have not had any pain in my left arm. The only thing that has caused any concern is the incredible amount of student loans I have had to take out, but then again I don’t have to deal with the reality of that debt for three years.

Piggy-backing on what my colleague has said, I don’t expect law school to release endorphins nor do I believe the amount of brainpower used will strengthen my quads. In this respect, I will also refrain from referring to law school as a marathon. Plus, marathons are fun. Other than that, I have tried to keep my expectations to a minimum. I expect to be challenged and I expect to like it.

Lay Down the Law!

Day One L

Law school orientation begins tomorrow morning. In the great state of Oregon, in the county of Lane, in the green and yellow city of Eugene, I officially begin my love affair with the law. I love the law, truly, and if loving the law is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Here is where I make a couple of promises. One: Besides this sentence, I will not refer to my 1L year or the law school experience as a marathon. Two: I will do my best to tell it like it is, warts and all.

And so, in the spirit of full disclosure, I am excited for orientation. I am excited to begin classes next week. And finally, I fully expect to experience a panic attack during the entire first week of school (and possibly beyond). I’ve been told that 1L is about survival, and that surviving is a very good measure of a successful year. I am desperate to survive.

My colleague, the better looking and smarter half of One L Squared will be joining us soon.

Power to the people.