They just keep coming...

School starts on Monday and I couldn't be more ambivalent about that. I went to campus today to pick up some papers. 1L orientation was wrapping up and there were bright eyed, eager ambulance-chasers-in-in-training milling about, anxiously awaiting their descent into the seventh circle of hell...er, I mean law school. I felt a strange compulsion to grab them, one by one and tell them to run. Run away and never look back. Do your sanity and your bank account a favor, forego the three years of intentional infliction of emotional distress and go put that B.A. in history to good use. Go change the world without crossing over to the dark side. I wanted to ask them if they realize that every semester they will see classmates and friends fail to make the cut and subsequently be shown the door. I wanted to tell them that the mandatory curve means mediocrity is going to become a reality for most of them, and probably for the first time in their lives. I know that was my experience. Yes, these are the thoughts I had. And I remember people telling me the same things I would like to tell the new 1L's. I remember thinking it couldn't be as bad as all that. It couldn't, right? After all, I was capable, ambitious, and law school had been my dream since elementary school. Surely I would love it! Not so. I didn't listen to the warnings of those who knew, and I'm pretty sure no one would change their life plans because of my slightly jaded opinions. And in a way, I realize it's not such a bad thing, because while I would love to warn the new 1l's away, I'm also excited for them. I'm excited for them to "join the club" if you will. Not many people can appreciate what it is like to be in law school. Okay, no one who hasn't been there "gets it." But soon this new group of students will. The late nights of agonizing over finals, surviving on (as one classmate put it) Red Bull and gummy bears, hoping that your best will be enough and knowing that it probably won't be. The sinking feeling that comes when a professor slowly, deliberately peruses a seating chart before asking you a question to which you have no coherent answer. The strange feeling of relief that comes with swapping horror stories laced with self-deprecating humor with people "who know." That's what they're in for. In a way, that's what we're all in for. I'm sure there will probably be a few in the new class that think better of their decision and will skip the "whole post-traumatic stress disorder" experience entirely. At times I do envy them. Two more years often seems like a lifetime. But then I remember that I made it through that all-important 1L year. I made it through first round of weeding out, the shell shock, the buyer's remorse, the bait and switch, the quarterlife crisis, and even being "Runkeled" on various occasions. That alone entitles me to wear my psychosis with pride. Maybe I'm tougher than I thought. I'm still fairly certain I hate law school though. I don't see that changing, no matter how tough I get as a result of repeatedly being subjected to public humiliation.