Thursday, April 28, 2005
From now on, all your exams will involve a rubber glove
One of my closest and oldest friends had a lot to do with me going to law school. He graduated law school the year before I started, and had an impact on my decision to wade into these shark-infested waters. The bastard.
I can remember my last year in law school, I called him up and was talking about my fall semester exams. He chuckled and said, "You know your now stuck in the real world when you no longer think in terms of semesters or holiday breaks." Fortunately, I have fellow blawgers to remind me that there are still people out there who have to deal with exams and revel in the freedom that is summer break. They, combined with the imminent arrival freshly-scrubbed, pink-faced summer associates, drag me back to the days of yore, and make me glad that, for all the crap bigflaw thrusts upon us, I would rather be working on a summary judgment deadline that prepping for a Commercial Transactions exam.
In an attempt to make you whatever-L's feel better about your current lot in life, I will reveal the most adrenaline-pumping moment I had in law school. My first exam was in CivPro and was scheduled for 3 p.m. I had, of course, been cramming for days for the @#$% thing, and not being a team player, I had spent most of that time locked in my apartment. Finally, the day of the exam I emerged from my hole to drive over to the school. I decided to get there an hour early to sharpen my pencils, grab my bluebooks, chat a bit with the other condemned, and then do that last-minute cramming thing. I parked my truck and moseyed through the calm pine trees to the bottom entrance of the school. Opening up the door to the nearest carrel area, I was greeted by a curious and unexpected sound: silence. The first few steps I made the thought was, "Odd, where is everyone?" The usually bustling area was emptier than a South Alabama ACLU meeting. It took about 5 steps for me to break into a run for my carrel . . . where I had left my exam schedule. I quickly thumbed down to the CivPro exam and there it stated in 12-pt. courier: Exam 2 p.m. I shot my eyes toward the clock on the wall, which read 2:07. With nothing but pen in hand I set an Olympic indoor record in getting to the exam room. The professor, who was a bit of an asshole and an oddball, was in the process of explaining the directions when I burst in and grabbed an (inexplicably) open seat in the back. Looking up at me, he stated, "How nice of you to join us, would you like an exam?" Everybody laughed, my heart was beating, like, 150 times a minute from the scare and unplanned exercise. It probably goes without saying that CivPro was my best grade that semester.
Good times.
I can remember my last year in law school, I called him up and was talking about my fall semester exams. He chuckled and said, "You know your now stuck in the real world when you no longer think in terms of semesters or holiday breaks." Fortunately, I have fellow blawgers to remind me that there are still people out there who have to deal with exams and revel in the freedom that is summer break. They, combined with the imminent arrival freshly-scrubbed, pink-faced summer associates, drag me back to the days of yore, and make me glad that, for all the crap bigflaw thrusts upon us, I would rather be working on a summary judgment deadline that prepping for a Commercial Transactions exam.
In an attempt to make you whatever-L's feel better about your current lot in life, I will reveal the most adrenaline-pumping moment I had in law school. My first exam was in CivPro and was scheduled for 3 p.m. I had, of course, been cramming for days for the @#$% thing, and not being a team player, I had spent most of that time locked in my apartment. Finally, the day of the exam I emerged from my hole to drive over to the school. I decided to get there an hour early to sharpen my pencils, grab my bluebooks, chat a bit with the other condemned, and then do that last-minute cramming thing. I parked my truck and moseyed through the calm pine trees to the bottom entrance of the school. Opening up the door to the nearest carrel area, I was greeted by a curious and unexpected sound: silence. The first few steps I made the thought was, "Odd, where is everyone?" The usually bustling area was emptier than a South Alabama ACLU meeting. It took about 5 steps for me to break into a run for my carrel . . . where I had left my exam schedule. I quickly thumbed down to the CivPro exam and there it stated in 12-pt. courier: Exam 2 p.m. I shot my eyes toward the clock on the wall, which read 2:07. With nothing but pen in hand I set an Olympic indoor record in getting to the exam room. The professor, who was a bit of an asshole and an oddball, was in the process of explaining the directions when I burst in and grabbed an (inexplicably) open seat in the back. Looking up at me, he stated, "How nice of you to join us, would you like an exam?" Everybody laughed, my heart was beating, like, 150 times a minute from the scare and unplanned exercise. It probably goes without saying that CivPro was my best grade that semester.
Good times.
Centinel 7:56 AM #