The Real World beckons me with its dark and illustrious wings. I try to fight it, but its power is too great; my resistance is useless. It is time for me to go forth into the night.

My resistance is rendered ever more futile given the fact that I’m not technically a student anymore. The nefarious Powers That Be refuse to certify additional loans on my behalf. Alas, I cannot haunt the halls of the BLB any longer.

It’s time to take the bar, enter repayment, and most depressingly: act my age. But here are some parting thoughts:

Things I Will Miss About Law School (part I of an ongoing, non-exclusive list):

1. The Multicultural House. You don’t have to be friends with the boys at the Multi-C; or even have ever partied there; to appreciate what the Multi-C represents. While Iowa City knows this house merely by its geographical coordinates, somewhere along the line the rental unit was deemed the “the Multicultural House” in coy reference to both the racial diversity of its inhabitants (a Filipino, an African American, and a Caucasian); as well as the need of graduate and professional programs to define people along racial lines.

Without entering into a treatise about the implications of race for those entering the legal field; I will say this: the choice to have your race acknowledged as a defining characteristic of your identity should be left to that individual. I believe that should be the ultimate goal of diversity initiatives: not to require individuals to identify themselves in that manner; but rather, to honor and encourage the perspectives that different life experiences bring to the table. I have learned from my friends that often a ‘non-white’ (for lack of a more articulate expression) individual’s life experience is impacted by their race, much the same way that my life experience has been shaped by being both white and female. We should recognize the richness these life experiences adds to the discussion, without ever requiring an individual to feel pigeon-holed by which box they mark on the application.

That is all I have to say about that; mostly because I lack the interest or qualifications to say more. Well, at least in this forum.

But I digress. The Multi-C represents a group of guys who take life, but not themselves, seriously. And on those times that they do take themselves too seriously—well, we’re law students. If you are a law student who has never fallen prey to the tinges of self-indulgence, perhaps now is the time to take one step forward.

The Multi-C is always open for business. Day and night. Just this evening, I went to retrieve a bottle of whiskey I’d left during the graduation celebration. Walk right in; grab the whiskey; holler at the guys for a minute; move along. This communal atmosphere illustrates the aspect of Iowa Law that I’ve come to know and love.

Some of us are black; some of us are white; some of us are men; some of us are women. Some are older; some younger. Some of us are from metropolitan areas; some of us are from small, podunk towns with 300 residents. Some of us are conservative; some of us are liberal. Some of us dream of politics; some dream of corporate firms and million-dollar mergers; some dream of prosecuting felons; some dream of academia. Many of us fall into the shades of grey between all the categories by which society would like to define us. But at the end of the day, we’re all in this together.

Think that’s common to every law school? Think again. In fact, up-and-coming 3Ls, ask your co-workers this summer. And up-and-coming 2Ls: wait a year, and ask your co-workers next summer.

Ask them if they are accustomed to 3Ls sending them outlines. Ask them if a 2L or 3L has ever offered to teach them how to bluebook. Ask them if they’ve ever been to a law school party with more than 30 people. Ask them if the library is not quiet enough to study because people are too busy chatting outside their carrels. Ask them if they have a professor who memorizes the names and faces of every single student in his class of 90+, just to personalize the law school experience. Ask them if they’re comfortable asking a fellow student to read over their seminar paper for grammatical errors. Ask them if they felt free to request input on the topic for their Law Review note from their peers. Ask them if they have ever received class notes from someone, unsolicited, merely because someone noticed they’d been absent that day.

Go ahead, ask them.

Now, just for kicks, ask the attorneys you know if it’s their superiors; or rather, their peers on whom they rely most. Experiences will vary; but absent the partner-mentor, I think you’ll find that attorneys look to their peers the most for guidance. It’s not the head of Commercial Litigation who helped the 1st-year associate with that perplexing question about piercing the corporate veil of an limited liability company; but rather, the 3rd-year associate who completed a similar assignment a year ago.

I’ve met many law students from schools all across this country. Top tier schools, lower-tier schools—it doesn’t seem to matter much. I have yet to meet a single student who can convey the sense of community that Iowa Law creates. Maybe it’s the students, maybe it’s the faculty, maybe it’s the administration. I don’t pretend to know the proper ingredients. I only know that we are different. Perhaps we are not the only ones, but we are unique.

And when USNWR includes a ‘community index,’ perhaps I’ll pay attention to their rankings.