Sh*t my law professors say

Over the semester, I was quick to jot down little "isms" that my professors said in class.  My intention was to type them all up as a memento of my first year of law school.  I thought it would also be fun to share them with the blogosphere.  Some of the quotes won't make sense unless you endured six months with these professors, but some are funny on their own.  They are divided by class for easy reading.  Enjoy.

Property

On sharing a mug with a classmate:  "I don't have cooties.  You have cooties...(under his breath) This is really stupid."

On Newt Gingrich and the Doles sharing property:  "Gingrich is going to make a great president."  "Why shouldn't Gingrich get 1/3 and Elizabeth Dole get 2/3?  She's more rational anyway.  Historically."

On a classmate refusing to give his hypothetical wife any property after divorce:  "That may be that you're kind of a volatile-type personality."

On my criminal law professor hitting my contracts professor over property:  "Neither of them have arms that would be considered deadly weapons."

On landlord-tenant relationships:  "This is a little confusing...maybe simple."

On electricity as property:  "We, our bodies, work on electricity.  Our brain's like fire!"

On buying landlocked property:  "If you buy landlocked land, people are going to laugh at you."

On beaches in New York:  "It's not a very nice beach because it's in Queens, New York, and the water is cold and the people are mean."

On homeowner's associations:  "If someone wants to have chickens and collect their own eggs, or they just like the noise, you may want to be careful."

On just about anything:  "Yeah, no, you're exactly right, right?"

Criminal Law

On forcible rape:  "Is it forcible, or are they just a little kinky?"

On Charlie Sheen:  "He is quite persuasive."  "Charlie Sheen can't make you burn in hell, but supposedly God can."

On Stephen Morse:  "Mainly I put up the picture so you could see his mustache.  It's awesome."

Classmate on retributive justice:  "If someone tried to kill me, I would probably kill them."

On attempted murder:  "Maybe I just wanted to scare the bejeezis out of you.  Is that a word?"

On the res ipsa loquiter test of attempt:  "I remember this because we were on a basketball team when I was a student and we were all under 5'6".  We called ourselves 'Res Ipsa Loquiter' because it was pretty clear that we all sucked."

On attempt:  "You stink as a criminal."

On attempting to kill someone with a water gun:  "Dammit, why won't it kill you?!"

On conspiracy to rob Taco Bell:  "We want to inflict damage on Taco Bell in exchange for all the damage it has inflicted on us."

On conspiracy:  "It begins with a C.  I don't mean to be a wise-ass.  I'm sorry."

On a classmate's case analysis:  "What might be a more common sense answer to the case?  I'm sorry I didn't mean 'sense.'"

On a cocaine hypothetical:  "Students are usually very reluctant to talk with me about where I can get my cocaine."

Contracts

On our class not learning about fraud in torts:  "That strikes me as reasonably awkward."

On Masterson v. Sine:  "That's immensely stupid."

On being frustrated about selling his house:  "If I'm feisty, I apologize in advance."

On Ruttenberg:  "Does it strike you as lame?"

On troubles with a car dealership:  "I bought a different kind of car because they t'd me off."

On working in big city law firms:  "In my course of dealing with other lawyers, there are lots of lawyers who are just lame."

On defendants ignoring specific performance:  "No, go away, I want to play golf or whatever."

On being evaluated by a fellow professor:  "I'm not designed to be a performer, I guess."

On drafting specific contractual provisions:  "That's, like, really tedious or whatever."

On purposely creating ambiguous contracts:  "Now you're going to decide I'm evil or whatever."

On St. Patrick's Day:  "Two questions with one answer.  It's like a McDonald's Shamrock shake.  It's half off."

On forfeiture:  "Courts find that distasteful, distressful or whatever."

On a 1L's perception of law school:  "Tell me how all the pieces move, and then I will be a lawyer."

On explaining substantial performance:  "You're looking at me like I'm a martian or whatever."

On drafting a prenuptial agreement:  "I would think that has to be awkward."

On swearing he saw a raised hand:  "I'm hallucinating."

On ESPN opinion:  "Let me show you what is patently, unquestionably wrong."

On explaining why the ESPN opinion is wrong:  "I'm getting lots of, like, quizzical looks or whatever."

On asking if we understand a 1920s case:  "I'm not trying to be cute or whatever."

On being a lawyer:  "If you don't want to get bitten, get out of the water."

On the belief that it's okay not to like the law:  "Like Mom making you come in when you're a tike or whatever."

On the college campus becoming smoke-free:  "It's like we're a totalitarian state.  It bothers me."

On understanding that there is no duty to mitigate damages:  "We are at the peak, the summit, the matterhorn.  I do not want to move an iota in our understanding, or else we'll fall off a cliff."

On why he cites everything:  "You don't need to type this.  This is just to show you I'm not making this up."

On the possibility that Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton made money by mistake:  "An observation came to mind that shouldn't be shared or whatever, so we'll just leave it at that."

On the MedicAlert company trying to screw him:  "That still frosts my whiskers."

On mistake versus frustration of purpose:  "Now we're all frustrated with my discussion...Oh, man, you're not even going to laugh at that?"

On mortgages:  "It's also a mortgage in aircrafts if I do recall.  I am 92% certain."

On the difference between an obligor and an obligee:  "And I guess the problem is I'm somewhat dyslexic, which makes this really bad for all involved."

On assignments:  "What do I mean by that?  Well, I don't know."

On cases involving electricity: "They don't want anyone to get zapped or whatever."

On transfers versus mergers:  "Maybe that sounds too glib or whatever."

On third party beneficiary risks:  "Might be foolish.  Might not.  Depends on if he's a good gambler or not."

On third party beneficiary hypothetical:  "Let's say I have lots of money, unfortunately a hypothetical."

On wanting to write a challenging exam:  "Maybe you think I'm foolish or whatever."

On writing the exam:  "Maybe I'll be so enamored by the exam that I'll tell you all about it, and I'll have to strike it and start all over again."

On ending classes a week early:  "Maybe I'll just end class then.  I can't do that.  I'll get fired if I do that."

How do you spell "W-I-N-N-E-R"?

     To begin, no, the title of this post isn't a Charlie Sheen reference.

     I have shied away from the blogosphere as of late, not because I have nothing to talk about, but because there has been so much going on in my life that I haven't had the time to record it here.  On my day off, I decided it was finally time to put down my thoughts on paper...or let them go into cyberspace.

     One of the reasons I started this blog was because I needed something to do to get away from law school.  I needed an outlet to vent about contracts, complain about my fellow students, and dream of other things I could be doing instead of writing case briefs or studying for finals.  Over the last few months, my life and my outlook on life have changed dramatically.  

     For starters, I am not spending my summer working in a law firm or interning at the state capitol, like so many of my fellow law compatriots.  Instead, I found my way to community theatre after a three year acting hiatus, and I couldn't be happier.  I am playing Marcy Park in "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee."  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the show, this musical takes the audience into the world of competitive spelling, breaking down the traditional fourth wall and bringing four audience members on stage each performance to compete alongside six cast members who are determined to become the next spelling champ.  Each of the cast spellers is a quirky kiddo who doesn't feel like he or she fits in anywhere else, and has found a place to belong during the tough pre-pubescent period of life.
     Marcy is no exception to the odd conglomerate of characters, but she is certainly different than her fellow spellers.  Marcy is the new girl, a recent transfer from Virginia.  However, she is also easily the best speller in the line-up.  She won her own bee back in Virginia the previous year and placed ninth at Nationals in Washington, D.C., an achievement last year's Putnam County spelling champ, Chip Tolentino, only dreams about.  Not only is Marcy a champion wordsmith, but she is also an over achiever in just about every area of her life.  She won her school's handwriting competition, skipped fourth and fifth grades, speaks six languages, and is an all-American hockey player.  There doesn't seem to be much of anything that Miss Marcy Park can't do, except lose.
     But is that really all there is to life?  Winning?
     I've really enjoyed finding the answer to this question during my journey with Marcy.  Although I was never a spelling bee champion myself, I've found that Marcy and I have a lot in common.  From elementary school all the way through my senior year of college, many "Marcy" moments come to mind.  I remember never wanting to tell anyone my grades as a kid because ridicule came to those who not only received the lowest scores, but who received the highest scores as well.  I resented my achievements and was sometimes embarrassed by being called "the best."  When my fifth grade middle school award ceremony rolled around at the end of the school year, I told my mom not to come because I wasn't going to win anything anyway.  Turns out, I walked away with a stack of brightly colored certificates written in calligraphy that stood nearly as tall as I did.  "Top Social Studies Student."  "Top Math Student."  "Best Artist."  The next year was much of the same.  The teachers even decided to give me a plaque because I had the top grade in all four core classes:  math, social studies, language arts, and science.  I was a winner across the board.  Along with that plaque, though, came a curse.  From then on, I was expected not simply to do well, but to win.  My 12-year-old self accepted the challenge.  Instead of taking art, theatre, and choir, classes that reflected my interests, I took the "hard classes," like physics, AP biology and chemistry.  I even took anatomy as an independent study just so I could have that extra weighted "A" credit to boost my GPA.  (My anatomy teacher thought I took the class because I wanted to go to med school.)  At the end of it all, I graduated high school as valedictorian, editor-in-chief of the yearbook, student body secretary, co-captain of the dance team, and "most likely to succeed."  My peers in college gave me the same superlative four years later.
     Marcy Park is very much the same.  Everything she does, she does well.  No, everything she does, she does better than anyone else.  The other kids at the spelling bee are impressed and slightly afraid of her ability to do everything so effortlessly and her maturity that is well beyond her 12 years.  She is no-nonsense, all business.  She's not at the bee to make friends; she is at the bee to add one more trophy to her collection, one more accolade to her resume.  And she is easily upset by those who do not give her credit where credit is due.
     I was first drawn to Marcy as a character because of her surface characteristics.  A girl who does everything right who reminds me of myself - perfect type-casting, right?  I was thrilled to receive the role, but after two months of rehearsals and now a weekend of performances, I have realized just how much more there is to Marcy Park, and she has given me more than I ever thought she could.
     First, Marcy is the only character whose parents are never mentioned in the course of the show.  I actually didn't pick up on this until about two weeks ago when the cast was talking about what they imagined the characters' backstories could be.  Because Marcy's parents are never mentioned, I imagine they don't play a significant role in her life.  They are not her cheerleaders, her encouragers, or her advisors.  They are her taxi-drivers who get her to school, soccer practice, spelling bees and back home again.  This is something I am all too familiar with.  I've realized when you do things well, your parents come to expect you never to fail.  I've had several moments of jealousy when my friends receive the kind of nurturing and attention from their parents that I never got from my own.  Care packages, good luck phone calls before finals, follow-up phone calls after finals, an extra $20 or nice meal during breaks from college were all things that eluded me.  My parents don't think I need those things because they expect me to do well without them.  They don't empathize when I am nervous about a final, and they aren't surprised when I end up doing a lot better than I thought I would.  So I get Marcy in that way, too.  Because she didn't seem to need her parents early on in life, they don't think she needs them now.  I imagine she does.
     Second, Marcy wants to be like the "normal kids."  This facet of Marcy's personality really started to come through when we began running through the show from start to finish.  All of the other kids, although far from normal, are just that - kids.  They mess with each other's hair, pick their noses, give wet willies, and build relationships throughout the show.  While sitting on the risers of our set with the other five actors, I found myself wanting to join the fun, but I couldn't.  Marcy doesn't act that way.  Marcy is too mature for that.  But then I got to thinking, "Is she really?  I'm 23 years old, and I want to give a wet willie just as much as anyone else here.  Why wouldn't she feel the same way?"  I think Marcy really wants to be "in the moment" with her fellow spellers, but she knows that she's expected to set herself apart.  In the end, though, I think she realizes just how much she misses out on by being "all business."  I have felt the same way in various stages of my life.  One time in particular was when I was in Washington, D.C. for a semester.  While my roommates were out exploring the DC night life, I stayed home, in my room, crying and wishing I was at home.  My convictions told me I needed to set an example and fulfill my Christian lifestyle when everyone else was partying, but now I know I also missed out on building relationships with some very bright people who are really going somewhere today.  Now, whenever the cast goes out after rehearsal or a show, I go out too, without question.  I may be tired the next day and may have to work a little harder at the gym after eating fried appetizers, but the relationships I am building with my fellow cast members make it more than worthwhile.  I feel closer to them than I feel to people I've gone to law school with for a year, and I know it's because I made the effort to put myself out there.
     Finally, Marcy resents winning.  Or at least she resents the conventional view of winning.  Marcy has spent her entire life (of 12 years, but still her life) as a winner.  She is the best at everything because that's what she does, not necessarily because that's what she wants to do.  I'm not quite sure what it is that Marcy really wants out of life, but I'm certain that it is not to be a spelling bee champion forever.  She wants to have fun, she wants to live her own life, not the life others expect her to live.  This characteristic of Marcy is the one with which I most identify, and the one that led me to this show in the first place.  Now that I have spent the last two months in the eccentric world of theatre and away from the straight-laced legal environment, I have no doubts concerning the atmosphere in which I belong.  It's not a courtroom.  It's a stage.  And I already have my next audition lined up to make sure our last "Bee" curtain call isn't my last.
     So Marcy has shown me that I don't have to be the best law student, make the most money, or fulfill the conventional title of "most likely to succeed" in order to be a "winner."  I simply need to be happy.  And right now, as far as I'm concerned, I'm carrying the biggest trophy I've ever seen.