True Life: I'm an Undercover Law Student

I am a law student. But I'm taking a class outside the law school.

There are some undegrads in my class. And I know them by their piercings.

On the first day of my liberal arts class, the professor explained his grading scheme. "Your final paper will count for 65% of your grade, but don't hold me to that in a mathematical sense," he chuckled.

"NOT IN A MATHEMATICAL SENSE?" I demanded of the Boyfriend later.
"What other sense is there?" the Boyfriend mused.
"It's on the syllabus! 65% for this, 35% for that, you know? I thought the syllabus was supposed to be a contract between you and the professor!"
"Well, did you tell him that any ambiguities in the contract will be construed against the drafting party?" the Boyfriend asked, deadpan as usual.
There was a moment of silence.
"No," I sulked.

It's not that law school is better. It's much worse, I promise. But it is different. Before my Business Associations class even began, the professor supplied all of the students with an explanation of his grading policy.

It was five pages long.

In my liberal arts class, we sit in a circle. The professor starts class by asking, "So what did you think of the readings?" We talk about a few articles or chapters from books for an hour and fifteen minutes. Students raise their hands when they want to talk. Often people don't reference the reading in their comments; they just share a personal experience. Phrases I've heard in class include "I have love in my heart" and "that's a sweet concept." The girl who sits next to me takes notes with her left hand, notebook turned perfectly sideways on the paper, her hand crawling up and down the page, and the words coming out sideways.

A typical law school class takes place in a cavernous lecture hall. The students sit at long, semi-circular tables, cowering behind their laptops. The professor wears a suit and strikes fear into the hearts of his listeners by consulting a seating chart or a class list to choose students at random to explain the day's material. As the lecture streams out of the professor, it is transformed into a cacophony of staccato clicks. This is the sound of the frantic, competitive effort to record every word. Someday these words will appear on the exam. And the exam is worth 100% of your grade.

In a mathematical sense.




(Image reproduced without permission from images.com).