Really, though, I should sell tickets.

My Circus discussion section full of freshmen just spent the last 90 minutes laughing at me. Interspersed with marginally smart things, but still: laughing. They were nodding, too, so maybe they're learning something?

Or maybe I'm just my own low-budget variety show.

Sometimes when I teach, I have this out of body sort of experience. Looking down on myself in my not-too-sensible but especially awesome black stillettos, bouncing around the room, I think: "Oh no. She is a trainwreck."

But, since I've learned in the course of law school to just keep plugging away regardless of the consequences your actions might have on your self esteem, I juggle some chalk and move forward. My students seem to enjoy class, more or less, though I'm not certain if it is because they like the material, or because I've now broken so many pieces of chalk that the next professor in our room brings his own supply.

Before lecture, I always have this neat little outline of what we'll be discussing. I write the main terms on the board (I'm not a big believer in powerpoint), set my little stack of notes on the podium, and begin.

That's when the real trouble starts. You see, sitting in front of the classroom, way down in front, makes me feel a little like a goldfish in a bowl, or a monkey in a cage. So I start getting a little fidgety. I get nervous, so I make completely awkward statements ("...Pretend I'm wearing a hat. I'm not wearing a hat, but I do have really big hair"), and fidget with my clothes a lot. I can't hold still.

Then, what I actually write down and prepare bears very little relation to what actually comes out of my mouth. Today's lecture was on civil rights and civil liberties, mostly from a criminal procedure perspective. Do I professionally deliver competing perspectives, complete with careful analysis?

No.

Do I make old person jokes ("Pen register! It's funny, because it's neither a pen, nor a register!")? Do I use myself/family members/ the most terrified members of the class in every possible inappropriate hypothetical? Do I fall off my high heels and spill coffee on the sleeping kid?

I think you know the answer to that. And then I teach them the finer points of the law, with eloquence:

On online investigations:
"Let's pretend Kelly is sending naked pictures of kids to her friends online....I mean, they're her kids...They're family pictures! In the pool? They're really little?....this is not as inappropriate as it sounds."

On probable cause:
"Let's say that I am a drug dealer, and I get pulled over. There's 30 pounds of cocaine in my trunk.."
(collective skeptical look)
"I'm a very successful drug dealer"

On FISA wiretaps:
"But what if I'm not talking about terrorism? What if it's something minor and boring, like I'm stealing office supplies from my boss?........Oh God, please don't tell Prof. Poli that I'm stealing office supplies from him"

On Material Support:
"So my brother the terrorist...he's the black sheep, we're a drug family."

On Privacy Law and Cell Phones:
"So don't use your cell phones to do your drug deals. You'll totally go to jail........Don't do drugs. Or sell them....Do homework."


This is all involuntary, incidentally. If I was trying to be funny, it would have been a lot more clever. I need to stay in academia, where I can say these things and people give me a pass, because obviously: I'm the awkward professor they don't let out of the house. It's ok.

For a long time, I thought that when professors said hilarious things, it was intentional. With 5 weeks left until the end of the semester, I am starting to appreciate how much being a total spaz plays into their hilarity. Or maybe they really are just laughing at me?

Sometimes, these kids learn things. But sometimes, I stand up there, and I just word-vomit all over them. Then, perplexed, I take off my shoes.


I'm an aging, tenured, vaguely inappropriate professor at heart.

Mmmm, salty.

Fun Fact: The (very very very) annoying 1L who informed me earlier this year that his plan was to clerk for the Supreme Court (excuse me while I laugh derisively, moron) is sitting at my table.

 

In addition to breathing my air, which I do not appreciate, he is also audibly snorting loogies back up his nose. It's a regular snot concert up in here.

 

Snort, sniffle, snorrrrrrk, drip.

 

Repeat.

 

I am hoping he chokes on his own phlegm.

Law School Roundup #166

This week's Law School Roundup is available at the Legal Underground. Go check it out, and come back here, same great time and place, for next week's Roundup!

Social Networking 2.0

All tweeted out? Too hip for MySpace? Allergic to Zuckerberg?

Try this hip new social networking site, TheBarAfterWork. Evan Schaeffer has a very informative review here, which I high recommend you check out ("Is TheBarAfterWork a Valuable Networking Tool, or Just For Drunks?")

Try it out: it might surprise you.

Law School Roundup #165

Welcome to Law School Roundup # 165...While you're here, have you met Mickey? He's so fine, he blows my mind.

Also, the MILP (Moms in the Legal Profession) Roundup is up over at Butterflyfish. Stealing a page out of her book, this week's roundup is 80's-tastic, so without further ado, pump up your iTunes, and prepare yourself for this week's selection of posts from law students aspiring, recovering, and still slogging away.

Don't Stop Believing: Listening to some Journey would really help quell those "When do I stop feeling dumb?" fears, I suspect. (Law Ingenue)

867-5309/Jenny: A new era of internet capable phones presents problems for judges and attorneys during jury trials. (Law is Cool)

Here I Go Again: On the job search- like a lawyer/hobo/Whitesnake, were you just born to walk alone? (Butterflyfish)

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go: Virgin gives tips on how to leave your law school obligations hanging on like a yo-yo. (Virgin in the Volcano)

Eye of the Tiger: (In)Sanity Gal signs up for an 8k: "And I only thought I was going to throw up for like an hour and a half afterwords." ((In)Sanity Souffle)

Under Pressure: On life as a trial lawyer and parent. (A New Duck)

Walk Like an Egyptian? "Now that I'm in law school, I find myself facing a different kind of Imposter Syndrome: I don't think I'm really a student." (New Kid on the Hallway)

Every Breath You Take: I'll be watching you. Or the court. You know...whatever. (A Woman in Law School)

She Blinded Me With Science: Luke Gilman prepares a handy spreadsheet to compare the top 50 law review's websites. (The Blawgraphy)

Finally, last but not least, NYU Law Revue provides this preview, a law school take on Billy Joel (available on Vimeo):


Please Repeat the Question from Amanda Bakale on Vimeo.

NYU Law Revue: a preview of this year's show, running March 25th - 28th.

Happy Sunday, one and all: may the rest of your day, like mine, be full of big hair, shirt scrunchies, and acid-washed jeans.

Next week's roundup will be back at the Legal Underground. Check back here, same great place and time, for Roundup #167.

Kisses!

It's All a Matter of Perspective.

Sometimes, law school is rotten for the self esteem. This post over at Law Ingenue really touched me. Reflecting on this reminded me: I've had a post which is long overdue to share with you.

Before my legal life, I worked for a city recreation department. It was a blast: playing in the sun all day with little kids, working with my friends-- everything a high school/college student could possibly want. That is, until I got promoted.

The Powers that Be over at the city ascribed to a "learn by doing" philosophy. Why write anything down? Throw the new manager in unawares! Let the baby touch the stove! Taste it to see if it's poisonous! The hilarity that ensued during my years in management was enough to write a book about (keep your eyes peeled). It was, on so many levels, an utter disaster.

I was an Assistant Manager, so I had two new supervisors: fully fledged Managers, who had been my boss before, and with whom I was now pseud0-peers. It was awkward. One of them was outstanding (hello, Voice of Reason!), but I learned that too late in the summer to take advantage of her wisdom and humor. The other, Rambo, was an exercise in What Not To Do: a terrifying combination of Andy Bernard, Michael Scott, and the Devil.

Being an Assistant Manager is not unlike being a baby lawyer: you get all of the responsibility, but none of the respect. You're in charge, but not really....and you have no idea what is going on. Ever. Unfortunately, Barbri does not teach an Aquatics Management course.

Entry level staff loved Rambo, but he was a terror to work for. As a staffer, everything was posies. Once I got promoted, I would get called into the facility at random hours of the day and subjected to the third degree:

"Do you know why we're meeting?"
"...um. No?"
"We're meeting because you didn't put all the quarters in stacks of 10."
"....oh."
"Why did you do that?"
"I..um...forgot?"
"That was very important. I'm disappointed."

Because Rambo the Terror Manager made a federal case out of everything, and because I was much more tightly wound as a college student, I spent 6 months of my life in constant fear that today was going to be The Day I Ruined Everything.

I cried a lot. I adopted all sorts of crazy coping mechanisms: Every time work makes you want to vomit, give a kid a balloon from the snack bar. Every time you think you Ruined Everything, eat a cheeto. I considered quitting almost every day. Finally, one day at the very end of the Summer of Fear, I was waiting for Rambo the Terror Manager to come in and relieve me at the end of my shift. Rambo never took days off, so it surprised me when he came in for his shift and immediately asked me if I could work the rest of the night.

It wasn't hard to see why: his face was chewed up and bloody, his lip was swollen, and he looked like he had been dragged down a flight of concrete stairs. Because I'm good and kindhearted, I asked him what happened- he refused to answer. Rambo not vulnerable! Rambo strong like ox!

Because I am also nosy and opportunistic, I refused to work for him unless he told me what happened. Facing the prospect of an 8 hour shift looking like something the cat dragged in, Rambo swore me to secrecy and then explained his injuries.

It seems that Rambo had taken a second job at the local gym. That afternoon, he began cleaning equipment. To clean the treadmill, one turns the machine on, and then runs a soapy rag over the running surface. To clean the treadmill Rambo-Style, one turns the machine to its fastest speed, and runs a soapy rag over the running surface.

The inevitable happened. Rambo slipped. Rambo skidded across the treadmill, head first. And then, ladies and gentlemen of the internet, Rambo got his face stuck. In the treadmill.

So, as finals and graduation approach, and you think to yourself: am I smart enough? Why can't I do this? This is a horrible day!...Just remember: today is the day that you didn't get your face stuck in a treadmill. And a day that you do not get stuck in a treadmill, ladies and gentlemen of the internet, is a day you can chalk up as a win.

It's all a matter of perspective.

Even the Special Olympians are Better Bowlers Than Me

Oh lordy.

President Obama apparently made a special Olympics joke about his bowling on Leno tonight (not that I would know, because obviously, I was sleeping).

My proposed solution is to let the Special Olympics team come to the White House and kick the crap out of him in bowling. Because gosh darn it, if the President is going to go about trumpeting his superior bowling score compared to mine, someone should put him in his place.

It is not wise or politically correct to make fun of Special Olympians, no matter how many times you see me do it. Batten down the hatches and prepare for the shitstorm of outrage today, kids. It may take the collective focus off AIG for a while: we do like a good self righteous outrage for our Friday morning constitutional, no?

Honestly? Kids? Don't act so surprised. If your Crim professor can't make it through the lecutre without saying something offensive about women, vegetarians, gays, or puppies, do you expect a president to make it through his daily life without doing it? Polticians saying something dumb/offensive/nonsensical is just part of the inevitable, and we act shocked when they act, well....human. Humans are kind of prone to attacks of the dumbs sometimes. Haven't you noticed?

The Special Olympians are going to get an extra special apology for this one, because dude: not making fun of special olympians should be something they teach you in President kingergarden. Don't let your guard down just to make friends, Barry!

Thank goodness I don't have to go through that rigamarole everytime I offend someone. I haven't the time.


Politicians: don't let them out of the house without a handler. It's just a mercy we don't follow Joe Biden around too closely. In the meantime, some political commentator is going apoplectic, saying equally outrageous/offensive/moronic things: we tolerate that because they're not elected, I suppose.

From The Horse's Mouth

Lexis Rep:"Every time you click 'Edit Search', Westlaw kills a puppy"

I Am Full of Unpopular Opinions Today

....Unpopular opinions and mozzarella sticks, so I'm going to call this one a wash, but I am still grouchy.*

1. I hate Twitter, and I think it's making us dumber and more self involved than we were before. This problem has expanded to the point where I am considering delivering my patented You Are Not That Important Lecture via loudspeaker as I drive through town.
Ha ha, the blogger thinks people should talk less. Ironic, huh? Bite me.

2. Dear Angry Radio Callers- Angry! With the earmarks! And the pork! Except if it's for your district! Outrage! Fury! Yelling! Something for us now, please!

This is a theme here. I should wear a shirt: "Nobody caaaares." It would sum up my feelings on other people's feelings perfectly. Especially the unsolicited ones.

3. Some people really shouldn't go to law school. Because of the Dumb, but also because of the Driftless, the Ditzy, the Totally Underwhelming, and the Open Mouthed Chewing.

4. I don't think milk does do a body good.


So there. Meh.

Updated to Add: The moral of the story (and the way I attempt to artfully dodge hypocrisy, all the while refusing to edit as I blog) is this:

1. If you're going to speak inanity, don't presume that someone wants to listen. Most importantly, don't assume that you have a right to make someone listen. Someone is rolling their eyes at you right now. Are you adding value? Making me laugh? No? Then I am making voo-doo dolls of your shouty face or ignoring you entirely, depending on the level of Annoyed coursing through my veins today.

2. Milk is better with chocolate, but even better when it's coffee.

3. Do not cross me. I am grouchy 2L.




*Grouchy, but wise enough to distill all the grouchy things into one post, so that the Internet Crazy can run to one place to tell me how wrong and evil I am.

Law School Roundup #164

This week's Law School Roundup is up at The Legal Underground. Check back here next week, same great place and time!

ABCs & 1-2-3's at the Circus.

My little minions have their papers due this week. Getting assignments back from them is always an interesting social study: a (terrifying) peek into the mind of college freshmen. Although there are always a few hilarious standouts ("The colons were in great unrest before the revolutionary war") they tend to be more or less variations on the same theme.

More notably, they all make the same mistakes. Last time around, it was lack of theses and writing on topic. The papers I got back were rambling discussions of why, sometimes, people don't vote. But sometimes they do. But a lot of times they don't. Barring that, it was a word association game.

Me, loosely paraphrased: [Important dude] proposes that federalism allows voters to hold their governments accountable. Based on your reading, evaluate this claim.
Front Row Fector: I have read The World is Flat. How many times can I plagiarize Thomas Friedman in 6 pages? Globalization, WHEEEEEE!
Me: D for effort. Thank you for giving the Red Pen of Justice a rousing workout.

It's cute, really, because they're all so naive and new at this "college" thing. Exhausting, yes, when you have to explain to a freshmen student why, no, that is not the right use of "mitigating," no matter what your Microsoft Word thesaurus says about it. Exasperating, often, when you have to explain that "totally bad" does not, in academic papers, mean "good" or "adept at his job." Virgin and Funny Mean Friend, veterans of this scene, have warned me that it is kill or be killed, because, cute though they may be, the little monsters will suck out your soul.

After the Festival of D's/Reality Check #1/The First Paper, a few students came in to ask questions:

How can I get a better grade? (Try not to suck as much. Then, do your reading. After, proofread. Lack of catsup stains might help your cause)
You mean, you won't change my grade? (Ha. No.)
What reading do I have to do, exactly? (The less you do, the more fun your paper will be to grade. But you'll owe me a new Red Pen of Justice).
Can you explain federalism to me? (Oh my.)
What is a thesis? (ACK. ACK ACK ACK.)

...But for the most part, they went off and did whatever it is that Freshman do during spring semester. Now that they've (hopefully) learned their lesson about theses and actually reading their prompt, they've come up with a whole new set of exciting problems. At some point, someone must have told them to "grab their readers' attention."

They've really taken the bull by the horns on this one. Currently, I'm reading "The Ideology Bunker of Doom." I have to admit, after "Liberals versus Conservatives: The Final Showdown," it's a bit of a yawn, but it has promise.


Bless their lil hearts: this week, we're learning about hyperbole.

Law School Roundup #163

Welcome to Law School Roundup # 163, the flu-season edition. There was a glut of quality posts this week, which only goes to show: it must be midterm season again. While you're putting off your outline, here's this week's selection of posts from law students aspiring, recovering, and still slogging away:

Mens Rea? Proposed changes to Canada's mental illness law (Law is Cool)

Lights, Camera...Overwhelmed by parental technology (Legally Blonde Ambition)

Scroungers: Free food thievery: one of the many skills we pick up when learning to "think like a lawyer" (The Shark)

Show and Tell: Because "ate a live cat" says so much more than just "crazy" (Taking the Law Into My Own Hands)

The Underwear Rule: Another resourceful survival technique leads to success, less laundry (Virgin in the Volcano)

Interplanetary Jurisdiction: Illinois says Pluto is a planet. It's a consolation prize for the Senate seat. (Fight the Hypo)

Taking Notes: On attending one's very first CLE (No. 634)

WMD: Bingo! Found 'em! (Dysfunctional Didactics)

Table for One: The ring thing is catching these days (Teasingly Diverse)

Miscommunication: Oh, the vagueries of language...or, why "partner" can get you into trouble sometimes (Starting to Melt)

Move over, MBAs: On the economy's impact on law schools (Being is Somethingness)

Double the fun: The MILP roundup is over at Butterflyfish this week.


Look for next week's roundup at the Legal Underground, and then back here again in 2 weeks. If you want to be added to the blog roll, but don't see yourself up there, shoot me an email and we'll get you on the wall of dis-honor.


Kisses!

Smitten Kitchen, I'm not.

I am up at Darwin's this weekend. Mostly, I am pottering around in the grey early March weather complicating his grocery shopping with demands like "No, the good kind of juice," and using my exception good luck to help him win things like giant cheese baskets, but I make occasional forays into other Darwin-related hobbies: eye-rolling, sweatpants stealing, absconding with his clean towels, monopolizing the kitchen table with a horrifying array of law books. You know, the usual.

He's happier about my being here than you might imagine- I really am very pleasant in person, Internet.

Anyway, today, we decided that we would have a laze around the house, academic-style day. The vile, Eeyore-y weather outside was a perfect invitation to make comfort food, so we trotted off to the grocery store to get supplies. After a number of Motherly Cell Phone Consultations, we opted for "Beef & Noodles." I suppose you could say that that was where the trouble started.

Beef and Noodles (not stroganoff, gag), is a recent addition to my culinary routine introduced by The AntiGunner's mother, at the strident insistence of the AntiGunner. The dish is delicious in its (apparent) simplicity- it mostly consists of egg noodles and shredded, roasted beef in some sort of brown sauce. If you share my unique culinary history, Internet, the initial concept of this may really weird you out. Roast beef does not go on noodles, it goes on mashed potatoes. You're going to have to trust me on this one, though- it really is quite good. I am not doing a good job describing this in a way that does not sound like cat food, but suffice it to say that it is tasty, and full of meat and carbs (my two favorite food groups).*

Good sell, right? Anyway, though we consulted our respective Nobody and Darwinian mothers about the Great Crockpot Project of 2009, neither Darwin or I bothered to consult the AntiGunner's mom. Instead, we decided that "it can't be that tough," and just guessed on ingredients. Upon our return home and subsqeunt googling, it became clear that, even over a myriad of recipes, the only ingredient that we had correctly guess was the noodles- we somehow managed to even buy the wrong cut of beef. Go team.

Not to be deterred, I decided that we should forge ahead anyway, and ad lib as we went along. Darwin got relegated to Cheese and Cracker Duty, and I indulged my abiding love of browning meat, before dumping our soon-to-be delicious concoction in the crock pot. That was 3 hours ago. Yum! Simmering meaty goodness!

Except (there is always an except, Internet): Darwin has just informed me that there is good news, and there is bad news. The good news is that the meat experiment smells delicious. The bad news is that I apparently set the crock pot to "warm" instead of "cook," and now we have a pot full of delicious-smelling, tepid beef.

Mmm. Tasty. We're getting Mexican for dinner.



*Aside: This a constant terror for me. Things in thick or gelantous sauce will draw an unexpected cat food comparison, and then I can. not. eat. them.

Hello, world. I'm still standing.

Law school, the journal, and my little kiddos (of the frat-aged and OMG! variety) are sucking the life out of me.

Expect more blogging in the not-too-distant future. I'm just mostly-dead.

Law School Roundup #162

Law School Roundup #162 is up at the Legal Underground. Check back here next week, same great place and time!