I made it. Friday was the last day of classes, and I am still sitting stunned by it all. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I walked into the College of Law, with my gut wrenching and my hands sweating? Apparently not – three months have passed at a speed that I can only attribute to overstimulation and general discombobulation.

To be honest, I’m not completely finished. I still have four exams to write in the next two weeks. One is worth 100% and the rest are worth 20%. The system of evaluation in law school is strange and psychologically challenging. On the one hand, this means that the student is arguably footloose and fancy-free of any kind of responsibilities other than reading and showing up for class. On the other hand, it also means that regardless of how well you contribute in class or that you show up each day prepared, none of this impacts your overall performance. What matters is how well one does on the exam, period. Worse still, the exams are written anonymously, so the professor has not idea whose exam is being marked, save any kind of bias from class. I really dislike this system, and yes, it’s because I speak in class and am prepared a lot of the time. It is unfortunate that participation doesn’t account for anything at all. I think it should because there is true value in being able to articulate one’s ideas and arguments verbally. But for now, it’s worth bupkis in terms of grading.

To be fair, we have one professor that is trying to revolutionize the system, one step at a time. Instead of allowing us all to succumb to the torturous mind-games, Prof. Kleefeld has allowed us to do a creative project in Tort Law! When I heard this, I was at once delighted and surprised. Part of me believes that the disconnect between creative thought and a legal education ought to be obvious to everyone, but it really isn’t. After three months in law school, I can understand why, though: precedent is the bossy-pants of everything. Although there are subjective rules and tests abound, precedent wrecks everything all the time. Just when one thinks there is opportunity to apply some creativity to an analysis of the law, tyrannical precedent rains on the parade.

Alright, I am forced at this point to qualify that sentence. Of course, this is not always the circumstance, but it can seem that way a lot. I had a brilliant epiphany one afternoon that I was going to form the “Anti-Precedent Activist Group,” but then one of the smartest dudes in my class pointed out that this, too, would be setting a precedent. Sheesh! There is little room for rebellion.

Speaking of rebellion, an interesting aspect of the legal education is the collective sense of suppressing one’s personality. All along, I have observed people acting and speaking in very measured tones, and have attempted to emulate this. And guess what? I have failed miserably. Recently, one of my classmates stated that it would be so lovely if for once I would just agree with the majority ruling on a case. Apparently, I am called “Dissent” behind my back amongst a small group in my section. Of course they’re correct and they don’t mean any harm; I just didn’t realize that I came across that way so strongly. Further, a good friend in class has started calling me her “favourite little lefty” and her “favourite little rebel.” Guess the jig is up, if there ever was one.

The outcome of this creative project is that I have been approved to write blog entries about the legal education for my Torts project. It is an understatement to say that I am thrilled about this, and in particular, I am glad to have some accountability in order to foster writing once again. Like most things, my blog has taken a back seat to nearly everything else, and I would hate for that to become the norm. Having the opportunity to document my legal education is very valuable to me, and now it will even count towards my grade, and fulfill my need for a creative outlet.

So, four examinations lie between me and happiness. Soon it will be the season for eating butter and drinking cream, but for now, I take each day, hour by hour as the whole picture is too overwhelming; one semester down, five to go. My incremental approach is inspired by a book by Anne Lamott that I read a long time ago, and I will finish with a quote from it. It never fails to gladden my heart:

Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. [It] was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.