It's not quite what you think

As I went through my application process last year, I remember several people--either then-students or recent law school alums--telling me that law school was remarkably like high school...and they're right. But they're right in the best way: law school is, as far as I can tell, like high school...only it's the way I think we all wished high school could have been. It's the institutional structure of high school without the hassle of parents, curfews, or crippling, adolescent self-doubt. High school for the self-actualized--we're now further on the way to being the grownups we hope to be, we're smarter, more sane, more kind, and we get to take a second swipe at this with all the confidence we wish we'd had when we were 15. What a weird-funny-crazy-beautiful surprise in all of this.

I hope the opportunity to get my car out of the driveway presents itself today. If I don’t go to Home Depot soon to get a new washer for my kitchen sink to stop its incessant dripping, I might lose it.

It’s true that law school changes the way you look at things. The novel I’m listening to this morning—The Pleasure of My Company, by Steve Martin—just asked a question about atonement: “What could be made up for? What could be forgiven?” In the context of my criminal law class, where we’ve spent a bit of time thinking about utilitarian and retributive theories of punishment, I wonder the same thing. The past two weeks have shown me that I’m not much of a retributivist, but I’m not sure I’m very utilitarian either. I met with my crim prof on Friday to talk about my technical argument against the death penalty (a topic for another post), and he asked if I was interested in pursuing criminal law. If someone had asked me that a month ago, I would have been quick to reply that I wouldn’t ever consider it. But now…I don’t know. Of all my classes, it’s by far the most intellectually stimulating to me. Maybe that’s unfair—I’m not sure how stimulating something like contracts can be, particularly since I can’t understand a word of it—but regardless of the reason, I’m continually prompted to think and think and think about the things we encounter each Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon. I told my prof that I was interested in the class right now, but that I think I might be too squeamish for the profession. He nodded, and said “that’s what everyone thinks. It’s different than you’re imagining it to be.” So noted. He related his experiences at the Washtenaw County public defender’s office the summer after his first year, and sort of suggested I think about doing the same thing—so I could see what that world really looks like. I just might.