Surviving law school

I received a text message from an acquaintance asking me how she should prepare for law school entrance exams. I was surprised. Is there a need to prepare for a law school entrance exam? From what I recall of the exams I took, the questions dealt with stuff one already knows (or should know) after graduating from college-English, some Math, and abstract reasoning. I told her to check the Internet. Maybe a lot has changed since I took the exams, I told her.

A few weeks later, she texted me to ask what questions were asked in interviews for admission to law school.  I answered that my interviewers must have been happy that day because my interview was a breeze. They asked me what I thought about the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, the hottest issue at that time, what the last book I read was (something by Gabriel Garcia Marquez), what it was about ("magic realism," I answered and felt my confidence rise exponentially when I saw that they all had no idea what that meant), and where I bought my second-hand books (I listed "hunting for second-hand books" as a hobby). It was over in less than ten minutes.

I had heard that some interviews last forever. I was also told that some applicants come out of the room crying. I don't know if that was because a question hit a raw nerve or if members of the panel were being very mean. They could ask you about anything, I told my text pal although I was aware that my advice was not very helpful. Just the same, I suggested that she brush up on current events, and if she had not thought about it yet, to figure out her answer to the most common question: "Why do you want to go to law school?"

So, why did you go to law school? she texted back. I'm glad I was not asked that during my interview because I turn red when I'm lying and the truth would not have sounded nice. I wanted to go to law school not because of a great desire to practice law in the grand manner. I went because I liked being a student who gets a regular allowance from her parents.  Training to become a lawyer seemed more serious and grown-up than getting a masters degree in Creative Writing (I thought that calling myself a "creative writer" was narcissistic and self-indulgent). I told my texter-acquaintance the truth. She never texted back.

I thought of her and wondered if she got accepted into her dream law school. A law school friend and I had gone to Chocolate Kiss, our favorite campus coffee shop. Looking at the familiar menu and the same black monobloc chairs had the two of us reminiscing what law school was like and how we survived.

My friend is thoughtful and brilliant (as all my friends are) and I always feel smarter after I talk to her (whatever I know about the existentialists I got from her and my husband). We both concluded that to be successful in law school meant killing a part of ourselves. In law school, she continued writing for the school paper, nurtured her music, and promoted her advocacies. I forgot about writing and could not draw a rectangle even if I had a ruler. I graduated in the dean's list, she got her degree from another school.

It's been a long time since I left law school and I don't know if things have changed. If my textmate asks me how to make it in law school, I'm certain that she would not like my answer. I'm glad she hasn't asked.

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