"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com

 
Read Between the Outlines

I. In law school, we prepare for exams by making what are known as “outlines.”

A. An outline is basically a student-created summary of a discrete area of the law, usually ranging anywhere from 25 to 50 pages.

B. It may sound innocent, but I can assure you that evil lurks in those roman numerals and bullets—an evil more sinister than most law students are willing to admit.

C. I am here to tell you that an outline is not a mere study aid. It is nothing less than a physical manifestation of the fundamental malevolence that pervades law school.

II. After all, an outline is just that: an outline.

A. The outline is not concerned with:

1. Our emotions;

2. Our absorption of the material; or

3. Our precious “love of learning.”

B. The outline is a cold collection of rules and issues and tiny case summaries. It is completely:

1. Sterile; and

2. Devoid of all

i. Passion;

ii. Fire; and/or

iii. Feeling.

III. And yet, sadly, it is this lifeless mass that aids us on exams. Why?

A. Because law school exams are just as soulless as the outlines we frantically create in order to tackle them.

1. They care not about our so-called “understanding” of the issues.

2. They care not about our:

i. Opinions;

ii. Visceral responses; or

iii. Mild/fleeting inclinations toward ethics and morality.

B. Their only desire is that we write what the professors want to see. And what do they want to see?

1. The outline*

2. As applied, of course, to the “witty” facts that they so graciously provide.

* See numerals I and II, supra. Alternate defining terms include: "putrid carcass" and "collection of meatless, soulless rules."

Exam season is upon us, and I feel dead inside. I am a shell—no, make that an outline—of my former self.

Note: Please excuse the poor formatting. Blogger does not seem to recognize indentations. Blogger does its best not to aid in the evils of outline creation. Blogger has a soul.

posted by Bekah at 9:23 AM :: |

 
Makin' Up is Hard to Do

In the ongoing "Which is better, law school or college?" debate, the law school approach to make-up classes is one of the most enormous strikes against it (as if we're counting). In college, when your prof was out and had to cancel a class, there were two possible responses. The first, and most enjoyable, was to never speak of the missed class again. In this scenario, things just picked up at the next class meeting and everyone kept quiet about "that day." It was as if the prof had just returned from some secret rendezvous with a student, or had been briefly incarcerated as a result of an unfortunate drug/pornography fiasco. That response is known as "Don't ask, don't tell, don't even bring that shit up." The second response to a missed class was the "let's talk about it" approach, which involved the following conversation:

Prof: So, we've missed a few classes. Does anyone want to schedule a makeup?
Students: [avoid eye contact]
Prof: Right. I could bring pizza?
Students: Eh...
Prof: Well, maybe we can just watch a documentary. Attendance will be optional.
Students: Damn straight.

Those were the days. In law school, there is some sort of mandatory attendance thing where the profs are required to make up any missed days. So a cancelled class is bittersweet: You revel in the fact that you don't have to go that day, but you secretly dread the accumulation of make-ups that you'll have to confront at the end of the semester. There's just no joy in cancelled classes or snow days anymore. Law school has sucked the life out of that too. All we can do is grin, bear it, and, yes...invoke Bon Jovi:

Me: Aaah, I can't sit here any longer. I'm losing it. This is the make-up class from hell.
Friend: Well, we're halfway there. (Several seconds pass). Living on a prayer.
Me: Take my hand....we'll make it...I swear. Oh-oh.
(Conversation immediately followed by silent weeping).

Unrelated Update: Remember the terrible burning incident from a while ago? Well, I returned to the scene (glutton for punishment that I am), and I noticed something interesting. The sneeze guards over the vats of soup were still at the same level, but the ladles had been bent so that the pouring angle was much less awkward. There are only two possible explanations for the sudden change: Either an obscene number of people have scalded themselves at Whole Foods in recent weeks, or the members of the Whole Foods legal department are regulars here at Mixtape Marathon. If the latter is true, I have the following message to relay: "Fine work with the bending of the ladles. Please inform your client that the tofu in the salad bar has been delightfully firm of late, although the freshness of the mushrooms is somewhat debatable. The yams, luckily, are seasoned to perfection. Thank you, and I wish you well in all of your future over-priced organic endeavors."

posted by Bekah at 9:47 AM :: |