Cue disgusted sigh...now

I am a 3L. With this distinction comes burnout, bar-related anxiety, job hunting stress, and general malaise, for which the only cure is to sit back and ride out the rest of the storm. I also like to think that at this point in my law school career, I should be afforded the right to participate in class discussion only when it suits me. Really, haven't I earned this right? There are a great deal of professors at my school who respect and honor this unspoken arrangement that exists in classes comprised primarily of 3Ls. And while the fear may exist that wholesale abandonment of the Socratic method will result in professor-centric lectures each class period (heaven forbid should they actually work for their paychecks), there is never a lack of students who choose to raise their hand and contribute their endless parade of insights (some more inane than others) to whatever the topic of discussion happens to be that day. The system works, and all are benefited. But not every professor is acquainted with the voluntary participation rule. I'm looking at you, Crim-Pro-professor-who-also-happens-to-be-Canada's-worst-export-since-Shania-Twain. Normally when I come to class, I am prepared. I spend copious amounts of time everyday, hunched over my law books in the library as the fluorescent lighting sucks the life from me, and I am arguably able to contribute to class discussion, if I were to feel so inclined. But that's just it. I never feel so inclined. Ever. This doesn't mean that I am not learning. And yet some professors feel the need to drag me into the dialogue, in what is becoming an obnoxiously all too frequent event. Two weeks ago I was in the cross hairs for pretty much the duration of my Crim Pro class. I assumed that this would have earned me the right to be off the hook for at least another month, if not the rest of the semester. Not so, says she who controls the attendance sheet. Today went something like this...

Me: (quietly playing solitaire, half listening to the discussion on plea bargaining, but mostly thinking about how glad I am it's finally Friday)
Professor: "Let's see, who haven't I bothered for a while? Uh...you?"
Me: (eyes raised slowly) "Mmmmmhmmmmm?"
The Class: (low rumbling giggles at first, rising to outright laughter as people turn and actually see the look of unabashed annoyance on my face).
Professor: (nervous shifting as she realizes the laughter isn't at my expense but at hers) Uh, tell me about this case...?
Me: (Poorly suppressed sigh of disgust as I contemplate reminding her that it really hasn't been all that long since she called on me)

I then proceeded to minimize my solitaire game and review my notes on the case at hand. I gave a brilliant pithy exposition of the facts and the holding, all while realizing that I prefaced every sentence by saying "Basically." "Basically the judge gave the defendant the impression that he wasn't going to get a fair trial in that particular courtroom." "Basically the ABA standards suggest that judges should not be involved at the discussion level of plea negotiations, even though they have wide discretion in sentencing." "Basically I can't believe you're calling on me. Again." The prof tried to throw a few curve balls, but I have learned from bitter experience that she runs her class like a 1L class, so I have dusted off the practice of preparing like a 1L. This entails painstakingly briefing each case, anticipating every possible question, and actually reading the dissenting opinions on the off chance that the professor asks me about my take on that too. For the love of all that is decent in this world, I don't have the energy anymore to deal with confused professors who think they're teaching 1L classes. So stop calling on me!

Life

Reading about plea bargaining is boring me to tears. It's 5:00pm and I'm starving.




This is not food, but it fits easily into a laptop bag, is smuggled covertly into the library, and purports to have vitamins and minerals. So I subsist on it.



I continue to hope that one day I will perfect the technique of learning through osmosis.



This is the last thing I want to do at the end of the day, but supposedly I need to be in minimally adequate physical condition.




I'm so tired of this place. So very tired.




If I could do it all over again, I would choose life.

"Law school robs us of our humanity." --Gary Guichard, Major Case Division Supervisor, Atlanta Conflict Defender Office

So evidently there's this recession going on

And it's a terrible time to be entering the job market. I remember being in college back in the good old days of 2006 and thinking, "Wow, the economy sure isn't looking so hot, it's a good thing I still have three more years of school to ride it out." That was before "bailout" and "stimulus package" rose to the stature of worn out buzzwords they currently enjoy. When the housing market meltdown began its torturous run, I was quite glad that we lived in a ghetto fabulous apartment because the word "foreclosure" didn't have anything to do with us. When the pox spread to the credit market, I thought "Whew, at least I already have taken out all the loans I need for the time being." Then our 401K started its plunge into the abyss, and suddenly the bad economy started to actually mean something to me. And now the already precarious situation worsens. As the day of my final graduation draws ever nearer (87 days!) I find myself more and more disturbed by the reality that I am graduating into a world awash with lawyers but scant on jobs. And this terrifies me. I'm leaving the realm of academia with an obscene amount of debt, despite my best efforts to limit my exposure to loans. Every day that I drag myself to campus for a night class after a full day of work, I have to remind myself that every hour I work means less money I have to borrow to pay for things like oh, I don't know, books ($100+ a pop). Bar review course (upwards of $3000). And who could forget the bar exam itself. Which incidentally costs $650, not including all the hidden fees associated with having background checks and obtaining driving records. $650 to take a test? I remember taking the LSAT and griping over the $100 they charged me for that. It just seemed so wrong to be charged to have other people inflict on me horrific torment. Oh wait, that's law school. But yes, massive debt, pathetic job prospects, and overall anxiety is beginning to set in. I attended a career fair last week, applying to every single organization that was interviewing 3Ls, (which was only like 6 out of 50), only scored 2 interviews, and they were not promising. I'm getting mighty tired of hearing things like, "Blah blah blah, budget cuts, blah blah hiring freeze, blah blah, maybe after you pass the bar, blah blah blah, economy in the toilet, blah." I've been sending out resumes and interviewing as much as time and opportunity permit, but it's been one rejection after another and at this point, there are really only 2 left in the pike. Just knowing that is stressing me the heck out. I think the most soul crushing disappointments thus far have been the jobs where I apply, make it past the first cut, get my hopes up, possibly get past the second cut, and then get shown the door with a polite thank you for your time. I cling to the illusion that things will work out if I'm patient, but I'm the type of person to whom patience comes neither easily nor naturally. I want to know NOW where I'm going to be working after I pass the bar. I want to know NOW just how long it will take to pay off my loans. I want to know NOW that I can start planning on moving from my grad student digs into something a little more grown up. And I want to know NOW that all this misery to which I have subjected myself for three long years will someday (sooner rather than later) pay dividends. Basically I'd really appreciate a little stimulus to my economy in the form of a job offer.

When law students go crazy...

The law school faculty is usually one step ahead of us. I arrived on campus this morning and was greeted by the suspicious glower of a security guard pacing in front of the entrance, trying his hardest to project an aura of authority. "Hmm," I thought to myself as I entered the building, "Somewhere a Wal-Mart is missing its parking lot enforcer." But I was in a hurry to get caught up on reading that had managed to get neglected during the insanity of the past week, so I didn't think much else of it. When I stumbled over another security guard on my way to the library, my curiosity was piqued. Law school is a lot of things, and could probably benefit from having such on site upgrades like a resident psychiatrist, Starbucks, or padded study rooms. Law school is not, however, a hot bed of crime (because inherent awfulness isn't a punishable crime), so we generally don't require the presence of not one, but two flashlight toting rent-a-cops. As a generic sense of unease descended, I was greeted with the reassuring words of a law school administrator in my email inbox...

"As you have probably noticed, we have two security guards at the law
school today, one at each entrance. The guards will be at the law
school from 7:30 a.m. until 5 p.m. The guards are not present to
respond to any specific threat. We have hired them because some
students have expressed unease about attending classes in the present
circumstances. We hope the presence of the security guards will ease
these concerns."

If you're wondering if this email could have been any more cryptic, you're in good company. "Present circumstances?" It conjures the color-coded terror alert system in terms of uselessness and stoking of irrational fears. The school gossip mill says there have been specific threats of violence made against students by another student, but that's what happens when the mental patients are running the institution; no one really knows what is going on. When I was a 1L and the severity of the "kick out policy" consumed my consciousness, I didn't find it beyond the realm of possibility that some poor student whose life had been ruined by the arbitrary application of the grading curve would one day show up to the school to wreak a little retributive havoc. And evidently it really is not beyond the realm of possibility. But good news! The administration is cognizant of our plight and taking action. I don't know about you, but just knowing that there are two unarmed guards monitoring ingress and egress from this facility makes me feel secure. Of course, I happen to have class today until 5:30pm. And what about tomorrow? Here's a thought; why not just arrest the offending student for harassment, and make some systemic reforms to make it less likely that future students will resort to violence and mayhem? Or better yet, save the money you're spending on security and start providing all law students with free Diazepam. Valium for everyone!

But not today

I look forward to finally being caught up on my reading.
I look forward to not being in the market for a new job.
I look forward to new challenges.
I look forward to graduation.
I look forward to having time to read for fun.
I look forward to not being a broke grad student.
I look forward to being free to enjoy rare sunny days in the middle of winter.
I look forward to a day when I will not be the last person to leave the law library.
But today is not that day.

Senioritis becomes me

To some, being a slacker is a skill that comes naturally. I have never fallen into that category. In high school, I was type-A about getting good grades so I could get into college. I blew that opportunity to really fully enjoy the malady that is senioritis. Ditto for college because I wanted to get into law school. But tell me, is there really any valid reason whatsoever to agonize over grades during your last semester ever? I think it's high time I caught the train to Slackerville. I keep telling myself that I'm not doing my reading assignments because my books are all still in transit. I think that's probably a half-truth, and lurking deeper is conscious rebellion. I could check out my textbooks from the library reserve and spend the next few hours dutifully preparing for the three classes I have tomorrow. Yeah, I could do that. I also could be reading for trial prep, which is the one class I have tonight, but the professor didn't post a first day assignment, so why would I do that? Instead I'm passing the time, getting a good laugh at Ann Coulter's expense, watching her disastrous turn on the Today Show and thinking, "How sweet would it be to be her attorney? I bet she's constantly defending slander and libel lawsuits; I'd pay off these loans in no time!" Yes, that's what I'm doing instead of reading. I'm watching videos, humming music from "Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog" and realizing that I previously had no concept of just how severe senioritis could really be.

Ambivalence

"The coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions."
School starts again on Monday. How is it possible that an entire month has passed already? I guess it wasn't much of a vacation considering I worked full time the entire "break." What can I say? Necessity trumps laziness. I should have spent today at the library completing first day reading assginments. My books haven't arrived yet because the booklist didn't get posted until two days ago. I'm going to be going to my classes on Monday unprepared for the first time in my law school career. I am surprisingly okay with that. If I get called on, I fully intend to announce that I would have been prepared, but the professor was too lazy to get the book selection to student services until the last possible second, so my lack of preparation is really his or her fault. I may or may not launch into a tirade about an insidious conspiracy between the law school and the bookstore to force students to spend outrageous amounts of money on books that can be purchased for half the price from online retailers. Grades came out a few days ago, mostly good news, with the exception of my Fed Tax grade. Darn, I guess I'm going to have to abandon my lifelong ambition of working for the IRS. Raise your hand if that one surprised you. Oh school. Enter the word of the day. I'm going through my time honored ritual of indulging in a pre-back-to-school panic attack. Why is this? Fully 19 of the 26 years I have been on this planet have been spent languishing in a classroom. I'm pretty much an expert student at this point, and still, I find myself rocking involuntarily at the thought of starting again at square one. I think it's the uncertainty of it all that is the most maddening. How am I going to balance work and school? When will I find the time to study? Why do I have to run yet another moot court competition? Will I be able subsist without sleep or food? Will I finally figure out a way to keep from infecting everyone around me with my insanity? These are all questions that have no answers, and they won't have answers for at least two more weeks. Generally that's how long it takes me to find my groove. In the meantime panic reigns. On the other hand, this is the last time I will experience this particular brand of anxiety. This semester looks surprisingly good. 14 credits will be comparatively light, and my work schedule looks somewhat humane. I have one class that is pass/fail. One class is a paper class. Only three final exams this semester. And then it's over. Over forever. This is the semester where I get to bring the champagne to my last class and try to hit the professor as I pop the cork and start the celebration. I'm trying to focus on the finish line. But my ambivalence makes it difficult. One semester is manageable. Another semester is more than I can handle. I'm excited to interact with and be intellectually challenged by classmates again. I dread the thought of hearing inane comments from that guy in each class. I might actually enjoy my classes this semester. Who am I kidding; there is nothing even remotely enjoyable about law school. This is what I've always wanted. Why haven't I dropped out yet? But more importantly, why isn't it over yet?