I intended to start this post with a snarky generalization about what each class is doing that prevents them from blogging. Then I realized: what do I call the 2Ls? Are they officially 3Ls? Does labeling them 3Ls mean I’ll have to accept the fact that I’ve now graduated and, as such, am no longer an apropos* contributor to the “Iowa Law Student Blog?” Well, damnit, Wieland hasn’t shut off my account; and because I enjoy avoiding the eventuality of life, we’ll leave that identity crisis for another day.

Dear Iowa Law students: you’ll always be 1Ls and 2Ls to me. And while that may sound like a pejorative statement, I assure you it’s not. I mean it affectionately, in the sense that the way in which I met you will stick with me. Because, when you’re supposed to be studying for the bar exam, you’ll look back fondly on your law school days. I know how it feels to be a 1L and have no idea what you’re expected to know, much less how to pen the answers to five essays in under three hours. To figure out what portions, of the 35 cases you were assigned on any given night, are important. As a 2L: to crank out a journal note in time for deadline. To finish a primary edit while simultaneously outlining for a closed-book exam. To face the realization that both your moot court brief and journal note are due on the same day, giving rise to the rebuttable presumption that one of the two will suck. So, which one should it be? Which endeavor should you throw under the bus for the other?

This is the dilemma faced by almost all law students: try to do well at everything; or focus your attention on one particular endeavor and attempt to be the best. It’s a crap shoot, and at some point you toss your cards in the air and hope when they land, you’ve got a full house.

Not unlike, as I’m finding, studying for the bar exam.

A facebook friend said it best (FACEBOOK!), when his status read: “[] is studying for 14 finals,” or something to that effect. I actually think that was a generous statement - the IL bar has 24 subjects we must memorize and be ready to recapitulate at a moment’s notice. Think about that: 24 areas of law, with a mere two months to memorize them. The “short” version of the required material is over 500 pages. The rest of the states are similar in their requirements. Sure, we’ve learned many of the basic concepts from class - but memorizing the prongs for every imaginable situation is an entirely different task. I’m sure any law student could say a contract must have consideration to be valid; but how many can prattle off the various requirements to fall under an exception to the holder-in-due-course rule? If you can, without the assistance of google, boldly recite the words that distinguish a fee simple determinable from a fee simple subject to condition precedent; perhaps now is the time to take one step forward. Listen, I love property law. It is my jam. And it still took me two full days to get through the material I need to know for the bar exam. Imagine how long it took me to get through secured transactions and federal taxation. Any area of law that invokes the term “security interest” pretty much makes me want to cry. It was a hot, sloppy mess, but damnit, I got through it.

Anyway, it all got me thinking about the notion that, given the career we’ve chosen, maybe we’re never comfortable. Every insurmountable task I faced in law school was followed by another task that made the prior challenge look like child’s play. It’s the reason why 2Ls tell 1Ls: “Just wait until 2L year”; and the reason why 3Ls tell 2Ls: “I WISH all I had to do was write a journal note and find a summer job.” It’s the reason why a fair majority of the 3Ls opined last semester: “Why is this the most stressful semester I’ve ever had? Shouldn’t I be relaxing because we’re done?!”

At the time, I thought the tendency to self-aggrandize was myopic, a product of The Law Student’s tendency to always feel as though we work harder than everyone else, including our peers. But I’m no longer certain that’s true. If it is, it would lend credence to the notion that a certain type of “person” goes to law school. I used to subscribe to that belief; but I no longer feel that’s accurate. Yes, there are a lot of “alphas” in law school. There are a lot of people who enjoyed being the most intelligent of their peers, and for many, it’s a shock to come to law school and find yourself clawing your way to the top (and ending up, despite your efforts, sitting despondently at the median). Studying for the bar has caused me to wonder if there isn’t some chaotic method to it all: the notion that you will never know what the court, or the client, or the partner has come to throw upon you. Perhaps it will be an area you know, and know well; you will look over the file and know in a matter of moments how you’ll respond. But perhaps not. You might have three days to learn all there is to know. To become an expert - or least not a certifiable idiot - in that particular area of law. You won’t think you can do it, but you will. You will get it done.

Perhaps it’s not the precise challenge that lies before you; easier than the last. Maybe it’s just a test of how you withstand the pressure. Can you still produce? Can you still take your little yellow and red legos and build something?

God knows, if you survived 2L year, you can make it through anything.

*”Apropos” is not an adjective, but it should be. Because I said so.

This was an effective procrastination tool. Now, back to bar prep.