Last Friday was the first meeting with the 1st year law students assigned to me or “1Ls” which is the term made popular by the biographical novel Paper Chase. I have been a mentor over at the local law school for 6-7 years I guess. Maybe longer. I forget. A young lawyer named Nathan and I are partnering up again this year to inflict ourselves on these poor bastards (I refuse to use the word “mentees”) for another school year.
I don’t know much. But I know I’m glad that I’m not in law school. If there is a more grueling, dehumanizing and demoralizing experience than the first semester of law school, I don’t know what it is. Telemarketing annuities comes to mind. Perhaps you have your own thoughts.
The first semester of law school they are learning a new language while getting impaled in class by the Socratic method of teaching the law. They are competing against one another for the privilege of making it to second semester, which means some of them will go deeper into debt, which doesn’t exactly help the anxiety level a damn bit. And in three years they get to experience the exhausting terror of sitting for the Bar exam and then enter into a terrible job market. Did I mention Continuing Legal Education? They will have 10-12 hours of that uselessness to look forward to each year. I forget exactly how many hours. I am now exempt since I have-God help me-held a license to practice law for 40 years. Which is one of the few comforts of old age I have experienced thus far.
Further there is this. As my buddy Don says, with considerable understatement, law school does not do a very good job of weeding out jerks. Tulane sure wasn’t very good in this regard. He and I can readily name 5 or 6 guys off the top of our heads-and they are all men-who were lousy excuses for human beings back then and most likely never changed. As one of my favorite former students, a fast rising M and A type named Katie (who had the good sense to never listen to me) once said of 1st semester law school “It’s like being back in kindergarten but with sociopaths.
And not to flog the recumbent horse, some of them are going into debt to finance this amusement.
So what do Nathan and I do? Not much to tell you the truth. The law school has a script for us to follow as we progress through the forced march of 1st year law school. Which we mostly follow. But mainly we try to be there for them. To listen. To reassure them that all sickness is not death. That they will get through it.
As I said in a speech I was foolishly invited to give at the awards banquet last spring, “I’m just the kill switch. I cut off the juice before something blows up.” I can’t speak for Nathan but I think he would pretty much agree with that job description. Pearls of wisdom they do not require. 2 guys that have been there before they do. 2 guys that are always available that is. And know when to throw the kill switch.
So we start another semester. Face to face for the first time in 2 years. Standing in front of these bright young folks last Friday I was reminded how hard-harder than hard-the last two years have been. I don’t know how we did it. But we got through it.
And so will the Class of 26.
Wish us all luck.
BTW I want to apologize for the weird font. Blogger wouldn’t let me change it to Arial for some damn reason. Go figure.
