Trying Everything - October 29 to November 1, 2007

Law students nonchalantly read about the appeals process. The Appeals Courts and Supreme Court will reverse a finding of the trial court, and sometimes even remand, or return, the case to the trial court with specific directions to the judge. Sometimes a case is remanded to be retried. Other times, the case is remanded and the judge is told what finding to enter as the verdict of the case.

It hit me how incredibly awkward and demeaning this process is for our low-paid, over-worked, often passionate and very wrong judges. A remand and directive for the rendering of a judgment is the equal of a parent handing out a punishment to a child. If the child was to then go to their grandparents to complain about what the parents said, and the grandparents agreed with the child, the grandparents would then tell the child to go back to the parents and the parents would be told that they have to change their initial punishment. Wow.

Monday's devils returned for an encore'. It seems they were not immature enough last Monday, and strove with all their might to excel to a new pinnacle of rowdy disrespect. You have to give it to the eighth graders: they set goals and reach them. I tried everything to subdue the class. When I employed the mutual respect method of calling them Mr. and Ms., and failed, I tried using the classic guilt method. I told them that when they talk to each other it is disrespectful to me, and that I am there as a volunteer, giving my time to have fun with them, and that disrespect will not be tolerated because I really want them to have fun. It was at this point that I lost it. No more nice Mr. Nice, Esquire. I deployed the troops. I was firm, commanding and a "big meanie-face". In fact, I actually kept the nincompoops 15 minutes past the ending bell for the day. They did not seem to care. I failed.

I thought that I was a failed trainer, coach and teacher. As I walked out of the school, I was stopped by the teacher. She told me the following, and I cannot express her seriousness and, for lack of a better word, frustration with this group of kids. "I have been teaching for quite some time now," she said. "But this is the worst, most disrespectful and out of control bunch of kids I have ever taught." She continued, "I had this same group last year, and they were just as bad then. They have not matured in the least, and they probably never will." I was taken aback. I cannot believe that she told me that. But, before I could say something, she continued where she left off. "You are doing a great job with a horribly bad class. You should be proud." Wow. "Wow," is all I could say.

After telling her that I would return next week for their mock trial, and more excitingly, my last visit, I left the building partially disturbed by what a teacher said. Looks as if I am not alone.

Monday continued the writing of the memorandum that was due Tuesday. It was quite the stressful day that was spent in the library. I stepped out of the double doors of the law building at 11PM. I was tired, stressed, and anxious. My eyes were blurry and there was a lot of legal writing on my head. I did, however, sleep like a baby.

Tuesday's legal writing class was cancelled because we had the paper due. The morning was spent revising, redrafting, re-justifying and retrying to get my point across. I turned my paper in 30 minutes before the 12:00PM deadline. After that, I looked at Nelson, who had just finished turning his paper. I nodded at him. He nodded back, and we said simultaneously, "Lunch." The Carebear and I needed to get out of the library; food was a necessity, as was escape.

I returned to the law building for civil procedure. Nothing was different today. During class, my peers and I utilize technology, and hold instant message conversations. We usually assist each other when called upon - as I have previously described - but sometimes the talk can turn to comedy. I do my best to pay attention, as I am a whiz at taking in that which is professed by the professor. Today the professor was wearing a light green turtle-neck shirt. When he stands in front of the class, a courtroom-type bar (a quarter wall) is in front of the professor. We can only see him from the stomach-up. Behind the professor is a classic green chalkboard. The board is the color of his shirt.

Debra - one of my friends who lives in Manhattan -had the following conversation with me:

D- Look he matches the board.
H- you almost made me laugh out loud just now
D- hahah that would have been great
D- I am sad that you didn't
H- he actually blends in
D- well he does
D- and he is wearing a turtle neck
D- who doesn't laugh at that
D- oh boy
D- its a great day for the professor
H- haha
H- every time I look at the board... i laugh
H- I hate you
H- hahahahah

Then the jokes started up:

H- He is a chameleon!
D- he is trying to blend in
H- good thing this class is short today, or he'd disappear altogether
D- hah
H- He is a floating head. like the Wizard of Oz
D- There is no place like home!
H- I'll take the brain.

I could not look at my professor without laughing for the rest of the class.

The rest of the day went very well. I felt as though a giant burden had been lifted off of my head. Maybe it was regaining my form after the boulder that had crushed me earlier in the week had settled at the bottom of the mountain. I had reached the peak of the mountain, and boy was I happy.

Wednesday was the average no good, very bad day. There was very little to it. Halloween was upon us, and I am no fan of the day, so I braced for the worst. I was, however, a fan of the plethora of little kiddos running around, going door-to-door. I was excited to get home and contribute to the growing childhood obesity epidemic. I was saddened to learn that I had missed the major wave of children, as all the young children had already visited. I was graced with a few children, who Marley attacked in her alligator costume.

Then came today. Thursday was very interesting. I knew it was going to continue a decently mediocre, yet very jovial week when Michelle walked into criminal law and told me that she did not believe she would be called out and grilled for the rest of the semester because she had been the object of the professor's affectionate use of the Socratic method. The Almighty was listening. The powers that be spited Michelle for such statement. Sure enough she was called upon, and was not ready at all. Life is good.

I was also able to live out the moment I had looked forward to all semester. My "Shawshank Redemption" first-night-in-prison scene had finally come. The professor was doing business as usual, and I guess the girl who happened to be her 'business' lost it. Fresh fish! Fresh fish! Fresh fish! She broke down into tears and sobbed. "I cannot do this," she said. "Call on somebody else." My professor looked as that which can only be described as a perplexed dog. Her head slightly tilted to the side, eyebrow went up and she said, "Uh, okay." Then, the pen went to her special note paper, she quickly inscribed her secret message, and moved on. This paper, as well as the seating chart, has been a mystery to the class. Nobody knows what she is writing or why she is writing it. We may never know.

In addition to calling on the "sobber", she called on my "mark". Since I was called on the first day of class, I was most likely in the clear until everybody else had been called upon. I set people who I know have not been called on as my mark. I know that when my mark is called on, my number is close to coming up again. The draft really is scary. Michelle was my mark until she was called on the first time last week. I needed a new mark, or I needed to start doing a whiz-bang complete job of reading. I found a new mark: the girl who sits in the row directly behind me. She was called on today, and it seems I am out of new people to set as my measure. The following weeks should be completely amusing.

Onward into civil procedure. My professor loves to visit with the students before class starts. We noticed a peculiar trend. He usually calls on the people he visits with. So, being an astute 'evader of the hot-seat', I do my best to remain inconspicuous and easily avoided. The professor walked by my row to speak with students behind me. I was busy feeding my CNN addiction by reading news from their website, when I felt a looming force over my left should (I sit in an aisle seat, where the aisle is to my left). I knew this could not be good. I had my headphones in and was enjoying a piece of John Coltrane. I tried not to look up, but the force was not with me. I could avoid it no longer. He engaged me in conversation, and I sat waiting to be called upon. Luckily, he had already pinpointed those persons behind me for the seat-of-death. I was just a secondary conversation. I missed a perfectly good time to talk to him. What a shame.

Tomorrow I have a conference to attend for my Legal Fellowship. It should be quite interesting. I am told that there are over 200 people attending. This will be a fantastic networking opportunity. Go team!

For now, I slumber.