CELL Blog | Center for Engaged Learning in the Law

This weekend I served as a scoring juror for one round of the high school mock trial competition sponsored by the NC Advocates for Justice. I saw only one round with two teams facing off. I don’t know where each team was from, or their individual circumstances. I have no idea of the back stories behind what I saw. But here’s what I do know:

The prosecution team was white. The defense team was black.

The prosecution team had 12 supporters cheering it on. The defense team had none.

The prosecution team wiped the floor with the defense team.

Again, I don’t know the back stories, nor from where each team came. What I do know is that my mother drove from PA to New Jersey to see my moot court competition, and would have driven to VA had I let her. What I do know is that the defense team looked lost, alone and frustrated in a world very far over its head and out of its grasp.

Was this a commentary on race? On parenting? On socioeconomic status? All of the above? I’m not sure, and I doubt I’ll ever be sure.

But I’m sure that the other jurors and the judge noticed it, too, and came to a similar conclusion: no one supports you … and it shows.

A long time ago I blogged that law school tended to suck the qi (life force inherent in all things) right out of you. Suddenly, happy-go-lucky folks are sulky and serious. Life isn’t all that much fun anymore. And you don’t really notice it because now all your friends are also law students and in much the same predicament as you.

Being a lawyer has pretty much the same effect. I remember those few glorious weeks immediately following the Bar exam. True, I didn’t get so much as a day’s vacation, but in those sunny days after a grueling 3-year “marathon,” followed by a nightmarish 2-month “sprint,” followed by a terrifying 2-day “dive off a cliff hoping there’s very deep water at the bottom,” life seemed glorious. I felt lighter. I smiled brighter. People noticed that I seemed extremely at peace with the world again. Heck, I even fell in love.

But then the rigors of real life set in amidst a bad economy and I did something I always knew I never, ever wanted to do: started my own law firm. And those 90-hour weeks I blogged about in November haven’t gone away. There is really no such thing as a night off or a weekend break. Some days sleep feels akin to malpractice. The stress of being the lead attorney, research assistant, bookkeeper, office manager, paralegal, and receptionist are enough to kill anyone, especially someone who is also the lone bread winner in a household of one.

And in the midst of that kind of stress, it would be easy to assume one’s humanity would start to slide just the way it did in law school. It would be understandable to see how one might see clients as ATM machines designed to pay your bills at all cost. One could rationalize the concept that I’m so busy looking after myself, there is no room left to look after anyone else.

But in the strange world of representing unemployed folks who have lost their benefits amidst an economy reluctant to hand out new jobs (especially to older people), quite the opposite occurred. In the midst of this world of creditors pounding on my clients’ doors, houses threatened with foreclosure, cars threatened with repossession, and 59-year old truck drivers in tears at the conference table, a strange and deep-seeded sense of humanity emerged.

Maybe it was the memory of my own mom fighting for unemployment benefits in the midst of the economic meltdown of the early ’90′s while trying to raise two kids on her own. Maybe it’s the rebirth of blue collar roots (of which I am prodigiously proud). Maybe it’s as simple as the very real issues facing my clients putting my “champagne problems” in perspective.

Whatever the reason, in the midst of a life filled with ridiculous amounts of pressure and stress, a humanity resurfaced in my life much to my own surprise. Raising money and resources for a good cause seemed a good idea recently. Building a house for some very poor folks in another country came to mind. Even simple things like telling my clients the truth about the merits of their cases instead of convincing them to bankrupt themselves for the sake of nothing but my own personal gain. And appreciating once again the reality of the human condition – the real life struggles of real life people who maybe didn’t go to college or maybe didn’t even go to high school, but who work damn hard for damn little and deserve a hand every now and again without going broke to get it.

It’s an odd turn of events to stumble into humanity again after a long time spent obsessing over statutes and loans and licenses. It’s a very nice turn of events. I wonder if my colleagues are experiencing this, too…

Having recently started my own law firm, today I rode to a program in Raleigh sponsored by the NC Bar Association called Start Up Boot Camp. The seminar featured a series of speakers on topics related to starting one’s own small/solo law firm. Topics ranged from malpractice to fee setting to blogging to ethics.

On the way there, my colleague and fellow Elon Law grad (who also started her own firm) told me that she’d heard a rumor about Elon Law students. “A rumor at Elon!?” I exclaimed. “Surely not.” Indeed, she’d heard a rumor that certain members of the Class of 2010, having seen the blazing success of their predecessors in starting solo law practices, had stopped seeking jobs and intended to follow in the footsteps of so much of the Charter Class.

My friend and I are equally aghast at this idea. Oh, kids. Take heed: starting one’s own law firm is NOT all glitz and glamour!

If starting your own law firm is something you’ve contemplated a long time and have always wanted to do, then ignore this blog by all means. You’re all excited and I encourage you to follow your ambitions!

However, if you’re like so many who came before you and started out on your own simply because there wasn’t anything else, I still won’t discourage you, but CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING:

1. It takes money. A lot of law students come from money or at least have someone to pay their bills until they make money. Be sure you fall in one of those categories before you attempt this feat. Or be sure you have a nice line of credit. Starting a law practice is NOT CHEAP, even for the frugal among us. Space, equipment, filing fees, software, insurance, and advertising are all things you need and all things that have you bleeding money before you’ve made any. And bleed money you certainly will. If the sight of monetary blood leaves you queasy, consider sending more resumes and fewer PLLC filing fees!

2. It takes time. I am blessed with independent contract work to supplement my meager law firm income. However, every hour I spend earning $15/hr to pay my bills is an hour I’m not working on a firm that will potentially make me $150/hr. And every hour I spend building my firm (for free) is an hour I’m not billing as a contractor. Every hour I spend at seminars telling me how to do what I need to know how to do is an hour I make NO money. It’s a delicate balance and I spent the vast majority of the first month working 80+ hours per week. If you’re not ready, able, or willing to do that (consider your children and spouse before committing), then DON’T.

3. It takes skill you don’t have. Unless you were extraordinarily fortunate in your summer internships, and perhaps even then, you can bet that 95% of the issues crossing your desk will BAFFLE you. Seriously. Even stuff you just studied for the Bar will send you scurrying to friends and colleagues for the simplest advice. Law school teaches you how to think like a lawyer. It does NOT teach you how to BE a lawyer. It does not teach you what a “shuck” is or what to do with one or where to find one. It does not teach you what the plea options are for felony possession. It does not teach you what to charge your clients or what type of fee arrangement to make. It does not teach you how to navigate the courthouse or file your own claim (sans paralegal) or balance your office accounts or certify your IOLTA or create invoices or…. Well, you get the point. You will be lost all the time. Trust me. If fear frightens you, don’t start a law firm!

4. It takes clients you won’t have. Unless you have very naughty/unlucky friends begging you to start a practice and help them, you’re going to be clientless for a while. Advertising is expensive and hit-or-miss at best. Example: a business-size ad in the yellow pages is over $300/month. The traffic offense lists for direct marketing are around $185/month. The ESC list is $300/month. And stamps are $.44 a piece. All that adds up FAST. If you’re a schmoozer, GREAT! But make sure you schmooze people who need lawyers and need them now, otherwise that’s hit-or-miss, too. Oh, and those nice business cards you schmooze with aren’t free, either. Lawyer referrals are also great if you’re not all competing for the same clients, which a lot of us will be. And everyone is on the court appointed list these days. Point being: it’s going to take a lot of time, money, and work to get clients. And you’ll be poor until you do. If you’re broke, tired, and shy, DON’T start a law firm!

If I haven’t scared you yet, great. Pick a formation type and start writing checks on your way to seeing your name on the sign out front (also not cheap). Otherwise, please don’t look at all the Charter Class members, convince yourselves that we’re playing golf on Fridays with our new-found wealth, and strike out on your own on that basis. Starting a law firm is a LOT of ridiculously hard work and if you’re not in it to win it, reconsider.

If you are in it to win it, ROCK ON and GO ELON!

So a few things if you are an occassional or first time visitor.

1) At the bottom of each blog post is a link that says comments. You can find some good responses from classmates, the occassional professor, and visitors. Also, you can leave your comments, serious or sarcastic.

2) Additionally, CELL is actively seeking contributors. If you have some comments you would like to make about law school, life in general, or living in Greensboro, e-mail me at mgroves@elon.edu so that I can establish you as a contributor and have you start posting. You DO NOT need to be a student or even in the Elon community, so long as you are somehow related to the legal field. Again, the posts can be serious/not serious so long as they are loosely related to law and clear of (most) any profanity.

Forward any questions to the above e-mail…

Matt

In the intervals of spare time we have between days of studying for exams, hopefully you are aware that the year is winding down.  There are less than 2 weeks to Christmas, and less than 3 to New Year’s 2010.  Rather than looking forward to decide where I will be spending your New Year’s Eve, I prefer to look backwards to see where the year started and how much progress has been made for 2009.  Did I make this year better than the last?  Most people don’t keep track of things like this.   As we get older, years tend to blend together, until we can’t remember which year I took that vacation.  Suddenly, while paying at the gas station you look down and see that you can’t buy cigarettes unless you were born before this day in 1991.  1991?  Didn’t that say 1984 two weeks ago?  The point I want to make here is to take time to ensure that every year counts.  Don’t just say you’re going to do it, as you will when you loosely make resolutions in three weeks.  Actually find quantifiable standards to mark your progress towards making yourself who you want to be so that law school doesn’t turn out to be a 3 year black out on your life’s itenerary. 

Hemingway said there were three marks of a man:  writing a novel, fighting a bull, and fathering a son.  Now, certainly he didn’t do these things every year, but there was a goal, a clear path to that goal, and a time frame for accomplishment.  To make a well rounded person he included a serious intellectual, physical, and emotional challenge (respectively).  Do something that makes you realize your own mortality so that you remeber that you are in fact, alive.  That can be lost in reading days, especially when your library is two floors underground. 

If you ever hesitate to seize an opportunity, consider the alternative.  Where will you be in 10 years if you monopolize your day with law school, get straight A’s throughout school, take a 150,000/year job with a large firm and work 70-80 hours a week to come home to an empty, albeit well decorated, condo to sleep wake up and start over again?  You can say “there’s always Vegas,” and then realize that that was 10 years ago.  Or you can heed Morgan Freeman, “get busy living, or get busy dying.”

“Nunc lento sonitu dicunt morieris…”

One of the great things about living in a city is that there is never a lack of things to do.  One of the great things about living in Washington, DC is that there is never a lack of great FREE things to do.  JFK said of DC, “it’s a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm.”  In spite of that, and the noticable lack of seasonal weather, it does have its high points.  Since the Smithsonian Institution recieves a federal subsidy, they are prohibited from charging admission fees to any of their museums.  I always thought this was compensation for locals after having to deal with hordes of tourists that smelled like sunscreen and had no particular direction when you wanted to visit the national mall.  However, about once every six months, when the weather was ripe for a long walk, you can take a trip wayyyy up Connecticut Avenue to the national zoo.  This was a perfect destination for locals because not only is it free, but it’s far enough away from downtown that most tourists can’t find it AND it’s such a long uphill walk that most parents are unwilling to push their strollers.

Obviously, the main attraction of this zoo is Tian Tian and Mei Xiang, the asian pandas.  Very few zoos in the world have pandas.  However, the exhibit I couldn’t keep away from was Luke and Lusaka, the African lions.  Luke was born in captivity in the fall of 2005, and has been displayed in Washington ever since.  Lusaka was a more recent addition.  Over the course of the next three years I was able to watch Luke’s de-evolution from King of the Jungle into zoo exhibit.

It was very obvious when he was young that Luke knew his place in the order of the jungle.  He was quite active and possessed a piercing roar from a young age.  Many of the trainers were apprehentious about entering the cage because he was quite unpredictable and liked to lash out, as young lions do.   The second time I saw him, I noticed a few bruises on his face.  I was told he has put his head down and run into the exhibit wall, thinking he could break free of it.  He also has a habit or coming fairly close to the edge of the viewing platform and roaring loudly enough to scare young children (and some unsuspecting adults).  This is why I liked him in the first place.  About a year later, on a return trip he appeared a little more reticent.  He walked, uncharacteristically, with his head down and did not fight to get out quite as much.  He still roared occasionally, but it lacked its awe inspiring volume and ferocity.   Finally, in 2008 in  my final trip before returning to North Carolina, I noticed that at only 3 years old, Luke looked defeated.  He lied around a good portion of the day with the other lions and did very little to frighten or entertain anyone.  It appeared as though he had accepted his role as a captive.

I did not think much about this until this time last year.  Such is the plight of a first year law student.  For those of us coming from the working world, we re-enter the world of academia having spent years accomplishing and building not 0nly a career, but a life.  Though we are cognitively aware of what is ahead of us, we fool ourselves into thinking that you can be built up without first being broken down.  In the initial months, we overlook the fact that we often don’t leave the law school until the sun goes down, and that we spend so much time reading that we lose track of the news and the world around us.  Days melt into each other until you don’t know which is which, only how many more until the weekend.  Studying and sleeping become so ritual that we only stop a few times mid semester to think, “man, this month has gone by quickly.”  The strain of a new schedule shakes you of your hold habits, hobbies, and more often than not, friends.  It is very easy to fall into colleagialrelationships with your classmates, and then realize you rarely see some of them outside of school.  Half way through the semester, you tend to accept a fate you spent the first several weeks trying to fight.  Other aspects of your personal life begin to suffer in the weeks preceding exams, for some, even hygiene goes out the window, as cognitive dissonance tells you that “it’s ok to show up to class in sweatpants.”  You become short tempered with your family and friends because you want to strangle the next person that asks, “How law school going?”  It’s a bad place.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel, even so early in the academic career.  First, we’ve all been there.  Now, we’re all out of it.  Trust us, you’ll get there too.  Further, once you’ve hit what you consider rock bottom, the rebuilding begins.  Around the late spring of your first year, you realize you’re a lot smarter than you used to be.  When internship hunting season comes around, you have the opportunity to get out, and meet people; people who do things; productive members of society, like you used to be.  Hopefully, by this many months into the year you’ve also shed yourself of your corrosive drinking habits (to some degree) and regressive early 20s behavior.  Without notice, you’ve become an adult.  You actually enjoy spring break, instead of spending thanksgiving break in the library.  And when you reemerge in society people respect the sacrifice you have made to pursue a higher level of education.  Because out there, unlike in here, not everybody is in law school.  You can step back and look at yourself and see that you are building towards a new career.  In a spring semester where there are no quizzes and you have no idea where you stand, this is the sign that you are successful.  Anyone can get an education, it’s the social development that will make you a successful lawyer.  (Because, evidently, it doesn’t stick for everyone.) 

So hang in there, and be lucky.  Unlike the lion, your captivity has an end game.  Just don’t lose your roar in the process, it’s always good for a few chuckles.

Since we have entered law school we have been inundated with gloom and doom advice about the state of the legal economy.  Each week’s ABA newsletter last year seemed to highlight another several hundred jobs cut at some big city firm, partner’s asked to give up some job perk, and ominous undertones implying those of us still in school would not likely find work.  Being a first year student I felt the same way I felt about all tragedies that didn’t directly effect  me… so what?  But as months went on, and I heard nightmares of recent graduates, it occurred to me that there had to be a solution for this predicament of too many lawyers not enough jobs.  This post is my answer, which will inevitably be ignored:

Now I admit that I am not a brilliant economic mind.  In fact, economics is the primary reason I changed majors in undergrad, eventually leading me to law school.  But I think I have a handle on the basics, and the legal job market seems to be a pretty basic concept to me.  As supply goes up, demand goes down.  Profound, ain’t it?  But believe it or not there are a finite number of legal problems in America; as we continue to fill the job market with new lawyers it resembles a cup under the faucet (or spicket, if you are from North Carolina).  If we do not soon turn off the faucet, we are left with a big mess.  This seems to be the only logical solution, since lawyers have already tried the opposite approach, creating more problems to support the growing field.

To clarify “turning off the faucet,” I mean regulation.  A nationwide proposal amongst every accredited law school in country to not accept a class of 2013.  To draw an academic parallel, no less a groan from my classmates, you will recall the Supreme Court tried this in Wickard.  The government said stop producing this product in excess because doing so is dragging down the national post-depression economy.  Needless to say we are again in a post-recession/depression economy, and need to be particularly cognizant of society’s needs.  I foresee two primary benefits to this approach.  First, we take some small measure to thin out the “job-seeking” crowd.  By reducing the denominator in the jobs to lawyers ratio, we would ever so slightly lower unemployment.  Secondly, and perhaps more importantly it would strengthen the talent of the next class that is produced.  Having twice the population competing for the same number of spots allows only the best to continue their training, instead of simply applying until you get accepted somewhere. 

The obvious argument against is that this would be “bad for business.”  But, I have to question the validity of this.  One of my numerous and sordid jobs prior to law school was working at the Maryland Fund for Excellence.  You know us as, ”Hi.  I’m from your college.  Give us money!”  In any case, one of the facts from our script was that state funds (at a state school) only covered about 50% of the cost of a student’s education.  Now, couple this with another fact.  I had the occasion to meet the associate dean of one of our near peer law schools over summer break.  This person said they had admitted over 220 students into the Class of 2012.  Now for the hypothetical…

If there are 200 students at 100 recognized law schools, creating a 50% of 1 student’s tuition deficit [let's round it off at 40,000/year, though Elon is markedly less].  This is 20,000 students times 20,000 dollars, creating a $400 million deficit.  Traditionally, this is covered by raising tuition rates for students for whom, as it stands, there are bleak job prospects at the end of the line.  If we were to cut a class for a year we would not only lower the variable costs of running the business, but allow professors with newly found free time to pursue new methods of teaching and research.   This has the collateral effect of adding value to the teacher, and perhaps, the school.  This way, perhaps we would produce better lawyers, instead of just more…

A lot of wonderful folks yet to take the Bar ask for my advice these days, and I think it’s time to share my enlightened wisdom with the masses…

1. To Thine Own Self Be True

By the time you sit for the Bar, you’ve been through three long, hellacious years of law school. And passed! By now, you ought to know what works for you and what does not when it comes to studying. If you don’t, then you can stop reading now because nothing else I say is likely to help you. Really. I mean that. Just stop.

Realizing that different material often requires different study techniques (e.g. I flow-charted Con Law, flashcarded (not a word) the hell out of Torts, and outlined Wills until my eyes blurred), take some time to seriously asses the beast you face and the best way to kill said beast. Will you make flashcards? Outlines? Practice hypos? All of the above?

The only correct answer is the one that will enable you to pass the Bar, regardless of what your professors, BarBri, and your ever-wise friends may tell you to the contrary.

2. It’s NOT About the Hours!

The single most asked question regarding the Bar exam is, “How many hours are you putting in??”

The single best answer to this question is, “Who gives a crap!? Bugger off!”

Passing the Bar is NOT a question of hours spent studying! IT. IS. NOT!!!! Do not be fooled by the “Oh, I arise with the dawn and study ceaselessly until the bewitching hour” idiots. They’re probably going to fail. Because they’re “studying” a lot, but they’re probably not studying well.

Studying for the Bar, in my humble opinion, should be a checklist, not a stopwatch. Make a list of things you must accomplish before you sleep. Then make a list of things you’d like to accomplish, but could always do on Sunday if sleep finds you sooner rather than later. Crack down the list until the list is finished. Then STOP.

If it took you 12 hours, oh well. That’s life during Bar study. If it took you four hours, DO NOT FEEL GUILTY! GOOD FOR YOU!! W00t!!!

Now, in the manner of Jesus, a parable to prove my point:

Two lumberjacks competed to see who could cut down the most trees (in the pre-environmentalist days … today it would be bamboo, but I digress). The first lumberjack worked day and night. He took no breaks. He barely ate or slept. He was a machine. The second lumberjack took a nice lunch break every day. He took an equally charming dinner. Called his wife to tell her he loved her (I added that part).

When the time came to see who won, low and behold! It was the second lumberjack. The first was confounded. “I worked around the clock! I never stopped! How did you beat me!?”

The second lumberjack replied, “Easy. I cheated.”

JUST KIDDING!!! THAT’S NOT WHAT HE SAID!!!

The second lumberjack replied, “It’s true that I took breaks. But I used those breaks to sharpen my axe.”

Cool, huh?

3. RELAX!!! Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

Stressing yourself out will NOT help you pass. IT. WILL. NOT!!! Admittedly, stress is part of the game. It just is, so accept that fact and don’t let it eat you alive. And DON’T make it worse!

I suggest easing into Bar study. The first week of BarBri (or whatever) is not an ultimate predictor of success. It’s a time for you to figure what the heck is going on and what happened to your once happy life. Ease in. Remain calm. Everyone else is just as lost, hopeless, panicky, and freaked the heck out as you are. EVERYONE. (And if they say they’re not – like on Facebook – they’re lying.)

After about a week or two, kick it into gear. Now you have an idea of what’s going on and how little you learned in law school. Make your checklist. Attempt finishing it every single day. DO NOT EXPECT SUCCESS. The point of BarBri is to set you up to succeed … eventually. If you could pass the Bar in the first week of the class, you wouldn’t need the class!! So relax!! Everyone else is failing to some extent, too. EVERYONE. (And if they say they’re not – like on Facebook – they’re lying.)

When BarBri (or whatever) ends, you’ll be a couple weeks out from the Bar. Ease out. OUT!!! I SAID OUT!!!! If you’ve kept up with your checklist, then you’re right where you need to be. If you made 1,200 flashcards (ahem), now would be a good time to learn them. While sitting on your balcony. With a beer. Then a coffee. Then a Bible. Now is also a good time to write practice essays. And re-write them. And RE-write them. (We Charter Class members are quite good at re-writes. Just ask us. We’ll tell you. We’re “masters.”)

When you’re a week away, accept that Jesus still loves you even if you fail; that you cannot possibly know everything you will need to know for the exam; that you’re powers of BS are exponentially higher now than they once were; and that now would be a good time to review, as opposed to learn. You will not learn. Anything. Nothing. Zero. What’s there is there. Sorry. Deal with it.

If you ease in, crank it up, then ease out (a lot like certain other pleasant life activities that work kinda well that way .. ahem), you’ll arrive at the exam a lot less stressed than a lot of people. Again, you WILL be stressed. But it’s better to be stressed, well-rested, and well-fed than just stressed. And your chances of success should increase dramatically.

4. Here’s What I Did, So If You’re JUST Like Me…

Again, I stress that success on the Bar depends on doing what works for you. That said, here is what worked for me.

I am NOT an outline reader. I do NOT have a photographic memory. I don’t care which genius professors tell you to just read outlines (ahem), if you can’t recall and use what you’ve read, then it’s useless. Needless to say, reading outlines and taking notes on said outlines is the thing I did the week before the Bar when I wasn’t going to learn anything anyway. It is NOT something I did prior to that point.

My checklist:

BarBri in the morning. No laptop. NO LAPTOP! GET OFF THE INTERNET YOU FREAKING CHILD! THIS IS THE DAMN BAR EXAM! GROW UP!!!!!

Excuse me. Terribly sorry. Where was I?

Right. After BarBri, I made an outline (made, not read) of the lecture notes. Then I typed flashcards based on that outline (50-100 per subject).

If I was still awake, I worked practice MBE problems either in the BarBri books or online.

Then I went to bed. Sometimes having (gasp!) not worked practice MBE problems! Oh, the shame!!!

Saturday was a day of practice essays. All day. Like 30 essays. In a day. Every Saturday. Sometimes I’d write the same one five or six times in a row until the law was nailed into my brain. But then, I really enjoy legal writing so it was kind of fun. Yep, I am that much of a dork.

And then I’d play golf.

Sunday was a day of rest on which I always felt too guilty to rest so I’d review flashcards. While watching golf.

All the other advice you [don’t] need will be heaped upon you in droves, rest assured. And whatever happens, you’ll most likely survive. And the sun will still shine. And all will be well in the end.

Last year, I was having a discussion with my writing professor about 9/11.  I was telling her how close I was to the Pentagon and the chaos that erupted from the lack of ability to use cell phones and check on loved ones.  A classmate of mine interevened saying she was in 9th grade at the time.  I was absolutely deflated.  While I realized that this event was some years ago, I did not know people that young could already be in law school.  For that crowd,  a brief explanation of stagflation.  Wikipedia (my Webster’s) says that stagflation occurs when inflation and stagnation occur at the same time in an economy and remain unchecked.  The gist of this during the OPEC crisis, was that while prices were rising and changes were being made in response to the problem,  it did not fix the problem. 

From the law school perspective, we are forever trying to make our school a community.  Seemingly, this is why we are in cohorts, why leadership is a mandatory course and why we have the preceptor program and the afternoon teas.  One of the most effective ways to get a student involved in the Elon community is to engage them in student organizations.  They have the ability to work without oversight towards effecuating a new angle by which we integrate our students to the Greensboro legal community.  Over the first three years of the school’s presence, we have developed approximately 20 organizations appealing to most every aspect of a student’s personality.  As you read, two more are in development.  But, with this blossoming supply side of new organizations, space and time for activities remain stagnate.    We have but so many rooms in which to meet in this building, and with everyone on different schedules, 12:15 – 1:00 has become the default meeting time.  This obviously leads to double booking.  Take today for example (though it’s no more special than the rest):  During the same time we had a Lexis study skills review, a Phi Alpha Delta meeting, and an Elon Law Republicans meeting from 12:15 – 1:00.

Until we can master cold fission and replicate ourselves, certain decisions will have to be made.  Do I know enough about online research to sacrifice this review session for a legal fraternity to whom I have an obligation?  Can I miss out on a first meeting of an organization I would like to be a part of for the same reason?  And the logical question, which meeting has the best free lunch?  Seemingly, you could catch any one of the three on the second meeting, but most organizations only meet once a month, and this conflict of time and space seems to be a repetitive one.  In a separate dilemna, you may have to put an organizational meeting which you are chairing in front of a career services program you have been awaiting for sometime.  This is never a wise decision. 

So, if we are already stretched thin on our schedule, what then serves the purpose of continually accrediting organizations?  Instead of double booking, we will be triple booking, and so on.  Unless we can find more resources to accomodate for the operations of each organization, we are only allocating student funds to groups with low student support.  Further, if you are a member of multiple groups and only attending meetings on a rotating basis because of the conflict, how involved can you actually be?

I am, however, an advocate of not complaining about a problem unless you have a solution.  Here it is.  Monday and Wednesday – administration days.  Career Service functions, Let’s Study meetings, Town Halls, SBA/Honor Council issues.  Tuesday/Thursday/Friday – Student Organizations.  Divide each lunch hour into three 20-minute sections.  Think about all the meetings you have attended this year; each could easily be condensed into twenty minutes of actual work.  Admittingly, once or twice a year, extra organizations would have to suck it up and hold a meeting from 8:00-8:30 AM, or 4:00-5:00 PM.  However, doing so would afford each student the opportunity to become as involved as they want to be with each organization.  It would also have the collateral benefit of allowing each organization to weed out the members who show up once a semester to secure the organizational name on their resume and are never seen from again.  And all the while we spend more time at the school attending these meetings, the building starts becoming a community, instead of a place of business from 9-5 like the rest of downtown Greensboro.  Now if only we can convince the restaurants to stay open past 3…

First year law students seem to have it made.  There is a brief ‘smack in the mouth’ period until you realize how to adjust to a new life style, but ultimately you still hold the power.  Unhappy with your school?  Transfer up.  Need more scholarship?  Transfer Down.  Unsure how to handle yourself in professional situations?  There are literally volumes of books (and blogs posts) on how to make the transition to being a law student.  You don’t have to pick your classes, or who you hang out with (thanks to the cohort system), you are assigned an advisor and a preceptor to smooth the transition and give you some vision, and everyone is excited to welcome you to the school.

Third year students see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Granted, the bar looms in the distance like a severe thunderstorm, but many have just finished a summer internship that has given them some direction in life.  Some have standing job offers, some have a practice certificate so they can begin giving pragmatic meaning to their studies.  Some have prepared so well that they can coast down the road to graduation with electives and bar prep classes.

But what about the middle children?  The work load increases, because there are no ‘gimmes’ like first-year leadership.  You have some autonomy, but not enough to escape a pre-determined eleven credit workload.  You are forced to decide upon a specialization, which will mandate some classes that of absolutely no interest to you, regardless of your desired sector of the law.  And you must answer the overarching question of ‘What do I want to do with my life?’  This is the same question that many of you came to law school to avoid answering for another three years.

Somewhere in between the booze and coffee is the equilibrium of the second year student.  They suffer from what I call 20 to life, representative of the mentality of a prisoner who has been sentenced to a minimum of 20 years in prison.  You are too far into law school, in time and money, to get out and it is too late to decide you want to finish somewhere else.  So you are stuck roaming the halls, isolated from society and entrenched in a close knit circle of people in the same situation as you, perpetually talking about what you ‘should’ have done.  Against your will, the better part of the day is spent inside, while your body and your non-legal mind suffer the consequences.  No news, no pleasure reading, no exercise, just food/sleep/study/repeat.  I know the feeling well because it is much the same in the working world.  The phrase actually came from a guy who worked the midnight shift with me at the courthouse.  Biggest difference between here and there – we are not getting paid. 

Anyhow, this guy had been police for 10 years working from 11pm-11am most days, and was always in a good mood.  He was forever talking about his intramural football league.  He commuted almost an hour each way to practice twice a week, and once for games, from north of DC down to Gravelly Point, VA to play in league with no prize money, just pride.  But, football was what made him him.  He was always taking bets on the Atlanta Falcons when they played against your team, and talking about fantasy football when the rest of us walked around staring at the ground, drinking coffee, feeling tired and grumpy.  It was difficult to find someone who was energetic enough to throw a football around the office at 4 am on Tuesday morning after 5 hours of roaming the inside of  courthouse, staring at marble walls.  However, he was also the most well-liked guy on the shift because of his optimism.

Point is, in this arduous, and sometimes maddening process of school, you have got to find what makes you you.  Maybe it’s basketball, maybe it’s volunteerting, maybe it’s writing, but whatever differentiates you from the red eyes and noses buried in books is what will save you from crashing and burning.  Everyone tells your first year that you have to dedicate a night a week to your significant other if you want to make it work.  But, you must also allocate time for yourself.  It gives you stories to tell your friends, a means to relate to strangers, and talking points in your job interviews.  If you do not, at the end, we will all just be lawyers… and I don’t think anyone really wants that.