This one's for the MILP's or MILP wannabe's

I went to the local law school's orientation session last fall (and started my blog shortly after that). They put on a class demonstration, a very gentle run-through of the Socratic method, a moot court demo (or trial court demo...are they the same thing?) and ended with a question-and-answer session with some professors and 3L's telling us to remember to take showers and write down your reasons for applying to you can remember why you're putting yourself through all this.

There was one professor who had an impeccable paper pedigree, very prestigious and intimidating. And he was really young, from my point of view. This guy loved to start every sentence with, "So...". He struck me as incredibly pretentious. It went like this:


Potential Applicant: "How would you say law school is different from undergrad?"

Pretentious Pedigreed Genius: "So...it's a process of infantilization, right? So, you have people telling you where you need to be and what you need to be doing and there's very little unstructured time afforded you while you're here."


Ugh. If I want pretentious and pedantic, I'll hang out - gawd love 'im - with my husband.

And then I thought, wtf? "Infantilization"?!! That's a six syllable word that he chose to whip out during orientation, where he's supposed to care about wooing us. Are you kidding me? So what is he like when he's NOT wooing us? omg...This guy is not living in the real world!

Now, my conclusion is correct of course, and most of you know this, because if he were living in the real world and not in some made-up, cloistered, Latin-centric La-La Land of Concentrated Brilliance, he would know that the last thing on this earth that is structured, that accepts being told where it needs to be or what it needs to do, is a freakin' INFANT. He has no clue. And so his fancy-pants use of a six syllable word backfired completely; it showed not that he was brilliant but quite the opposite: that he has not experienced the mind-churning challenge of caring for an infant and lived to tell about it. He knows nothing of life. He knows words. Kinda.

And so I dedicate this post to all of you struggling with this kind of over-the-top bs as you travel slowly but steadily through each case, each paper, each brief or motion, and each lecture. In particular, I'm thinking of A Woman In Law School's post from yesterday. The professor who loves to hear himself talk. And keeps the class late. That is just not right. Is he indefatigable or something? (had to throw MY favorite six syllable word out there)

Truth be told, even while I ranted silently to myself about his pretentiousness, something of his style permeated my brain. Now I hear myself doing it! Somebody called me the other day asking why the spam filter was blocking one kind of email but not another, and yes, this is what I heard myself saying:

Me: "Soooo...you know it's an automatically-generated message, right? That it doesn't use the same form as a regular message? Soooo...the message format is unique; it's missing required information in the From: line, soooo...the filter thinks it's spam and blocked it."

I should have said, "...ergo the filter thinks it's spam..." geesh.

Yeah, that lady isn't going to call me back any time soon.

And you are surprised that the first 9.6 seconds of THIS* is part of my morning ritual?

(yes, Cee beat me to posting this. Everybody's faster than me. And everybody's seen this by now - over a million hits on youtube already. But I just had to put it in here for posterity.)


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Oh people, I figured out how to separate out the first 9 seconds of just the lady screaming and re-post it to youtube, but then realized, if I ever do apply to law school, or more importantly, submit a bar application, a charge of copyright infringement on my record would be a baaaaaaaaaaaad thing. Rats.

Beginning with the end in mind

Folk tales and other narrative devices that utilize the expression "Begin at the beginning" have a sort of folksy wisdom that I find appealing. This is a personal preference, obviously, and stems, I'm sure, from my tendency to do the exact opposite. For example, at work, when I write a 2 or 3 sentence email in response to someone's query, before I hit Send, I review it quickly. My review almost always reveals that I've started my response with the final point, and ended it with background information that would lead you to the final point. In other words, I write backwards. This is not good. People often do not read my emails. This is annoying. It causes me to have to repeat the information in a hallway conversation. It feels a little like my input is invisible, at least initially. [Note: which is (just one part of) why I can relate to Shelley's recent post.] This is why I spend time re-writing my emails, even simple ones. That also is annoying.
But necessary.

I was struck last night by a thought, a moment of hope and inspiration. To wit: What about Policies and Procedures? What about "Contracts"? These are seemingly things that I could get truly excited about. If only I knew how they translate into a real-life job! I am seeking information about this. I will post more specific questions (and email my questions) later, because work is actually needing me to pay attention to it now.

Why Contracts/Policies-n-Procedures: I know the local law school has a course entitled "Contracts" that is required for 1L's. I bet all law schools do. I always enjoy knowing there are rules, or wanting to establish policies/procedures/rules if there aren't any, and so...and so...and so wouldn't it be cool if that were my JOB? I wonder if that means employment law would interest me. I wish I knew more!!! Or business law? Crap. Someone help me. Tell me what to read. Fine. I'll find it without your help, you invisible-reader-that-doesn't-really-exist. I'm like a one-act play, performing in front of an empty theater.

Point of this post: my whole law school should-I-or-shouldn't-I quandary MUST BE PREDICATED ON the final outcome: working as a lawyer. And so, like all goal-oriented people, I will focus on the end, in order to decide if there will be a beginning.