I thought this would be more like law school...

Sadly though, it's not. It's more reminiscent of high school. Now I realize that I was duly warned of this phenomena by one of my BT/DT (been there, done that) buddies, but holy Christ-on-a-Cross, I never realized just how sophomoric things could get!!!

I admit it, I'm a bit of a geek when it comes to this whole education thing. I've always considered education, specifcally higer education, to be a privilege, and something to fully engage oneself. If not purely for the intellectual benefits, then definitely for the worldly benefits (read: monitary) one may reap upon completion. With the significant investment of money, time and energy required in post-graduate level work, especially law school, doesn't it seem reasonable that you would want to get the best return possible? Sadly that doesn't appear to be the case with many of my colleagues. They seem more than happy, hell, even dedicated to doing the least amount required of them in order to get by.

The first in my litany of current frustrations is the seeming inability of most of my peers to make themselves heard. And I'm referring to the most basic meaning of the word. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a talker. A LOUD talker. My voice "carries," as they say. Like about 93 million miles. And that's just at my normal speaking volume. It's one of the reasons I got into acting so many years ago. I figured I might as well make the most of this asset, and the job of "carnival barker" just didn't have the same sex appeal as the notion of hanging around after school with a bunch of repressed gay boys and neurotic girls. But I digress... suffice to say, people rarely have a hard time hearing me when I speak. Which is frequently, and ususally ad nauseam.

My issue is this: several of those in my cohort can't seem to muster up the cajones or wherewithal to make themselves heard when called upon in class. Granted there are only between 20 and 35 of us in a given class, usually seated in a lecture hall big enough to seat up to 120 people, but fuck, let's make an effort here. The accoustics in the room are not that bad. You would think that after being asked repeatedly to "Please speak louder, I can't hear you," and "Could you speak up for those in the back who couldn't hear you?" you'd get the idea. Especially you, little Miss Becky*, who has been chastised on a regular basis by each and every professor for a semester and a half because you can't be heard past the person seated in front of you. I realize that you're very cute and demure, and that sweet ass of yours just slays me, but throw me a bone here! How about getting with the program here? In class discussions are so much more rewarding, and informative, if I can hear both sides of the dialogue.

Now as I've said before, I'm a talker. Class participation is not a problem for me. Talking things through, dialoguing with my professors, mentors, peers, or four walls of my shitty little apartment, is one of the most effective ways I learn. And I realize that this method is not for everyone. But in case you, my dear colleagues, haven't figured it out yet, they're trying to teach us to not only "think like lawyers," but also "act" and therefore "perform like lawyers." WhileI recognize that not every one of us is going to be a litigator, each and every one of us will have clients, and opponents, with whom we will be required to speak to intelligently. Even if you never step foot inside a court room, you are going to have to learn how to represent yourself and your client through verbal communicaiton. You will need to be persuasive and compelling in your dialogues. And if you think that comes from simply "knowing the law," you are sadly, sadly mistaken. You better get used to "standing tall before the man," and speaking in front of people you barely know, or else you're going to have a bunch of people who are supposed to be paying your fee very pissed off at you.

So how about giving it a shot? Instead of letting the 3 or 4 of us who always participate in class discussions, while you sit there acting like you know what the fuck is going on, how about you step up to the plate and take a swing. Because I'll tell you something, I am no smarter, or have any clearer idea of what's going on than you. I'm just better than you at facing and overcoming my fear of failure or looking a little foolish in front of others. And guess what, I only got this good by practice. Lots and lots of practice. So you might as well practice now, while the training wheels are still on, before this shit gets "real."

Second, I never thought it would happen again, but I was actually held after class so the prof could have a "word with me." Not quite detention, but pretty friggin' close. Long story short (if that's actually possible for me), my Methods class has been divided into two groups, representing both sides in a hypothetical law suit. We'll be using this hypo and the class split for the entire semester, culminating in actual oral arguments before real-life judges for our final class project.

(I can't wait for this. Did I mention I'm a talker...?)

Anyway, one day in class, we're bouncing arguments back and forth between the two groups, sort of testing them out and proving to the prof that we're actually doing the research and analysis required to work through the project. Personally, I think it defeats the purpose of the oral args, but who am I to question the instructor's methods. So, I'm just sitting there taking notes on what my opponents have to offer, so I can prepare my rebuttals down the road. During this exchange one of the guys on the opposing side, Mr. (Orange) Roughy, offered up one of his thoughts. Now I considered this guy one a friend of sorts, (we'd crammed together for finals last semester, but more on that later) and so I made a wise crack in response. Specifically, I yawned in a slightly exaggerated manner and said, under my breath, "What a yawner..." Now this cat is close enough to hear me (he is in the same state, afterall), and he turns, looks at me, and shoots me a grin, as if to say "Yeah, I know. But the Professor Fussypants called on me and I didn't have anything new to offer that hasn't already been said." In other words, he took it for the smart-assed comment that it was. Okay, no harm, no foul. There were some chuckles around the room, and we moved on.

The next class, however, began with a general announcement from Professor Fussypants to the effect that she hoped nobody was offended from the proceedings in the previous class, that she sought to maintain a truly professional atmosphere and would not tolerate any deviations otherwise. During this brief speech, I look around and notice the rest of my peers are just as confused as I. But it occurs to me that she may be referencing my brief bit of jocularity the week before. Having had her say, class proceeds. And sure enough, after we had been excused are are packing up our respective tidbits of scholastica, Professor Fussypants says "Mr. Roux and Mr. Roughy, may I please have a word with you?"

Right then, I knew it was on.

So the two of us oblige. And I listen. Without interruption, which is no small feat for me, being a talker and all. She asked if there was any animosity between the two of us, given the exchange in the last class. We both looked at each other and laughed, reassuring her that no, there was no bad blood, it was all just a joke. She went on to state that she was concerned about us, and she'd worried all weekend about it, and she wanted us to act like professionals, and how she tried to maintain a less formal environment that the other professors, and blah, blah, blah.... That's about the time I checked out, my eyes probably even glazed over a little. Well, once it sounded like she had wound herself down, I informed her, with all due respect of course, that if she was so concerned, she might have approached the two of us outside of class, before making the vague, general announcement to the entire class, which was perhaps not the best way to handle this concern of hers.

And I think that was around the time she checked out. Because her reply was just a wee bit agitated, and something along the lines of how she was doing us a "favor," because if any of the judges, either in our final class project, or the real life ones were to ever witness such an exchange, or catch so much as a sidelong glance between counsel, we would get "slapped down." I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and actually kept my mouth shut until I was finally excused.

It probably would have done me no good to inform Fussypants that 1) she was the only one of our professors who insisted on calling us by "Mr." or "Ms." So-and-so; 2) she was the only prof. who actually kept track of "professionalism points" as part of our overall grade, she was not really maintaining a "less formal atmosphere"; and given the fact that 3) Mr. Roughy and I were both the same approximate age as she, and 4) both had prior professional careers (he a teacher, and I a rodeo champion), that a) we were most likely able to distinguish the differences between a classroom discussion and a proceeding before a judge, and b) therefore were able to act accordingly. So I let it slide.

All in all, the episdoe was not such a big deal, but when considered with other factors, it helps prove my initial thesis.

Third, the overall maturity of my peers. Granted, almost all members of my cohort have been out of school for at least a few years, have part- or full-time jobs which they attend during the day, and most have a spouse and/or children as well. Therefore they are much more "grown up" than the Regular Division tots who are fresh out of undergrad and counting on their parents/trust fund/professor-student sex to foot the tuition bills. But that apparently only goes so far.

Recently, there was some discussion between myself and two other colleagues about forming up a study group in preparation for exams in May. The three of us (Mr. Roughy and Kid Rock, the youngest of the Extended Division), plus one other (Mr. Big), had linked up to review a particularly troublesome course late last semester, and we thought it might be a good idea to get cracking earlier this term, to afford us the opportunity to cover all three major subject areas, rather than just the one. There was some exchange of thoughts and ideas about what to cover and how to go about it in a brief conversation between lectures, and it was uniformly expressed that we would keep the group small, just the 3 of us, so as to make the highest and best use of our time. While the fourth member was certainly a well-liked guy, it was my thought that he hadn't really contributed much or significantly advanced our discussions last semester. It seemed pretty clear, especially upon direct questioning, that the other two were in agreement with me.

Now being a that I am a bit of a control freak, which I freely admitted to Mr. Roughy and Kid Rock, and a pretty capable organizer, I volunteered to put a preliminary plan together and submit to the others for review and consideration. In doing so, I clearly stated that I would welcome and expect any and all input; that I wasn't trying to assume any control of the group, but simply wanted to get the ball rolling to ensure that we moved forward in as effective and efficient manner as possible. They both asserted their understanding and concurrence. OK, so far, so good.

A few days later, I drafted my email outlining my thoughts and recommendations as to the composition, scope, agenda and scheduling of our little study club. It was quite comprehensive. Did I mention that I'm a talker, and a planner...?

Now I have read the books and anecdotes and heard the warnings regarding the pitfalls of study groups in law school. I've seen The Paper Chase. And after all these years of dealing with thespians, clients, claimants, attorneys and being a student of social politics, I was pretty sure I knew what I was getting into. But apparently, I'm not as wise as I think. Funny, isn't that usually the case?

Anyway, in the email, I raise the issue of how to deal with Mr. Big, (the fourth of our quartet from last semester) if and when he gets wind that we're getting together to cram. As I indicated before, ours is a small section, and the four of us, plus a few others, are pretty chummy with each other. The fact that the three of us are studying together this semester without Mr. Big is bound to come to his attention at some point. This could create a tricky situation, if the three of us are not on the same page. I'm the kind of guy who doesn't enjoy tricky social situations unnecessarily. If I don't like someone, or they have angered or offended someone who I value more, then I might engage in a Machiavelin machination at their expense. But if it's simply an issue where certain dynamics are not congurent in a given social situation, there's no need to cause any unnecesary harm. I gave that up in high school. So I addressed this potential issue, asking that Kid Rock and Mr. Roughy put their two bits in on how best to handle such a situation. I did make it clear that I wasn't suggesting that we completely exlude Mr. Big, but that it was my impression from our conversation that we do so.

Further, I laid out some thoughts and suggestions on how often we meet, how to approach our coverage of the material and other such logistics. Again, I was sure to insert the caveat that these were only suggestions, and to please chime in with their respective ideas.

Then I pressed 'Send.'

I wish I could relate to you some sort of climactic episode, but I can't. You see, much like the Phil Collins song, I received no reply at all. Sure, Kid Rock indicated he "got" my email when we were in class again, two days later, but that was it. I received no other response from either of my colleagues, verbally or electronically. And it's not like they didn't have the opportunity. We were all together in class, 3 nights that week. Hell, Mr. Roughy and I had a five minute conversation, just the two of us, while walking between buildings one evening after the dispatch of my missive. But the subject never came up.

The most disconcerting, and frustrating factor was that, not four days after I sent out the email, I overheard Kid Rock, Mr. Roughy and Mr. Big discussing plans on getting together over Spring Break to review for a mid-term we have in three weeks.

If Mr. Roughy and the Kid didn't like what I had to say, or for some reason had decided they simply didn't want to study with me, fine. I can respect that. But I don't think the courtesy of a response is too much to ask. Simply not responding, and acting like nothing ever happened is childish and cowardly, as far as I'm concerned.

I guess my point is this: If you are going to be offended, or put off by a colleague who has enough foresight and courage to raise issues for consideration, and make suggestions and recommendations to promote the betterment of the group, then you are going to have a real tough time making it as an attorney and advocate in the "real world" which everyone keeps warning us about.

Finally, I will admit that I did voluntarily choose to enroll and attend this (mickey-mouse) school, but it most definitely was not my first choice. Or second. Or third, fourth or fifth. Unfortunately, as a very near and dear friend of mine put it just prior to my departure from the Emerald City, "it's too bad your aren't smart enough to get into a 'real' school." Too bad, indeed. While I recognize the fact that these types of behaviors and attitudes are likely prevalent, regardless of what institution I'm attending, it would be nice if I were in the company of some similarly minded, and motivated individuals. And that simply doesn't appear to be the case here.

Who knew this would be so much like high school?



* Names have been changed to protect the victims.