Law school is very demanding in that it requires you to do a lot of work. But the work itself is not exceedingly difficult. It is the case that most people who leave law school early citing reasons like "I just wasn't cut out for it" and "it was too difficult" actually mean "I didn't want to put in the time required to be successful."
It follows therefore that the most successful people in law school are the students who enjoy what they are studying because they will be bothered less by the work load.
To illustrate my point, I can turn to any number of examples within the archives of my diary. How about this one or this one. But as I was sitting in my tax class this week, listening to the endless prattle of the mildly retarded and slightly malformed man who sits in the front of the class, the point was really driven home for me.
We were talking about Enron. For any of you who don't know, a big company in Texas engaged in some shady business practices and screwed a bunch of people out of their pensions. Pension law is governed by a federal statute called ERISA, which is a research specialty of my professor. She was talking about the Studabaker incident, which caused ERISA to be enacted. She was telling us that this is not the first time a huge corporation has undergone these kinds of problems.
So the retarded kid says, "Oh, I never want to hear the name 'Studabaker' again."
The professor believed he was referring to something regarding the collapse of the manufacturing giant. So she said, "oh? why is that?"
And the retarded kid said, "Well, my dad used to have a Studabaker. And he's always been unlucky. Like one time he took a call on Disney stock just before it started skyrocketing and he missed out on a foturne! My dad is like that."
Students around the room started putting their pencils down, and resting their heads on their desks. The students with lap tops started up challenging games of Minesweeper.
"So he had this old junked out Studabaker. And he sold it for five hundred dollars, or I think two hundred dollars, or three hundred dollars. I don't know how much, but it was a low number."
The professor leaned against the podium, still confused about where he was going with this.
"So the guy who bought my dad's old Studabaker for a hundred and fifty dollars, or three hundred dollars he took a year and fixed it up and he sold it for fifty thousand dollars or thirty thousand dollars or some really big number. It was a big, big number. The Studabaker was a classic, see. A classic.
"So my dad missed out on it again! That's always his luck. He always just misses it. So, I don't ever, ever, ever want to hear the name Studabaker again! No, sir! No, I don't! I surely don't!"
The retarded boy started giggling, obviously pleased with his story. He turned around to see who else was chuckling and seemed disappointed to find no one else amused about his dad's bad luck.
Just think. Some day that guy could represent you at your arraignment! Really. Anybody can do this.
Posted at 2:18 p.m.
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