I Had It Coming...

Everyone seems to have their preferred place to sit in the classroom. I'm a second-row person. That way, I'm close enough to the action to be involved, but not so close to the professor that I feel exposed. Of course, nobody wants to sit in the first row, so the second row pretty much becomes the de facto front row.

I'm also one of those people who is in love with the sound of her own voice. (I hear that's a necessary qualification for my chosen career of law professor.) I can't help it. When I have something relevant to say, I say it. Also, due to some strange statistical anomaly, my class is almost entirely composed of people with dark brown hair. There are two or three people with blond hair, and my hair is somewhere on that strange fringe between strawberry blond and auburn. So, we have the perfect storm here - a talkative redhead in the front row.

I hadn't done my reading for Constitutional Law yesterday. (It's not a huge deal. It's a subject I'm already well-versed in from prior educational opportunities.) The professor (we'll call him professor A) is a big fan of the Socratic method of teaching. He will cold-call students and grill them, often playing devil's advocate in order to find the weaknesses in a student's argument. He will also take volunteers when he asks a question, and he is much easier on the volunteers than he is on the people he cold-calls.

I volunteered early on in class yesterday and I made some vague 9th Amendment argument. (All arguments about the 9th Amendment are vague. Nobody is really sure what it means. My scholastic goal is to figure it out and write the definitive book or article on the subject.) Professor A said I had effectively brought up both the strengths and weaknesses of my argument and then he moved on. I relaxed for the rest of the class.

Right after Constitutional Law, I had Appellate Advocacy. (Constitutional Law is held in a big lecture hall with about 80 students. Appellate Advocacy is held in a seminar room with about 18 students.) I walked into the classroom and sat down in the second row, like always. As usual, nobody sat in the first row. One of my classmates came in and sat next to me. She's also in my Constitutional Law class, so we began discussing our thoughts on Professor A's teaching style. My Appellate Advocacy professor (Professor B) was standing near the front of the classroom (class hadn't started yet) pretending not to listen to this conversation. I mentioned my secret to getting out of being cold-called, which is to volunteer early and often. (Professor B doesn't cold-call.)

Class began. I tend to talk way too much in that class because nobody else talks and I feel bad for Professor B. (I have a good working relationship with him, since I had him for another class last year, and he's helping me out with my career goals.) I've been in the situation where I've been teaching a class and nobody participates, and I always appreciate having someone to chime in when there's an awkward silence. My goal for the day, however, was to go through the entire class period without making any comments, since I fear that I'm annoying to my fellow classmates.

My goal lasted for about three minutes. I couldn't help it. We were going over the quiz that was administered last week about our research for the semester. We were supposed to find cases about a circuit split for a specific federal statute. Professor B asked the class how we found the cases. The answer he was expecting was that we ran a search in Lexis or Westlaw. (They're online legal databases. The companies let law students use them for free, but they're really expensive for lawyers. The idea is to get people hooked on them in school so they'll pay after school.) Nobody said anything, so I raised my hand.

I got called on, and I said, "You're probably not going to like how I found the circuit split." I proceeded to describe how, in 45 seconds, I typed the citation to the statute, and the words "circuit split" into Google and found the Split Circuit blog. The blog had a post about the exact issue we were supposed to be researching, and a list of all the cases involved in the circuit split. Professor B got the most priceless look on his face. It was a cross between surprised, impressed, and annoyed. Then he composed himself and said that if I had been doing this research for an employer, I would have been commended on my frugality and efficiency. Then he said that the Split Circuit blog was where professors often looked when getting ideas for writing these types of case files. (I'm guessing the blog post I found was the exact blog post that inspired him to write the problem in the first place.)

I was feeling pretty good about myself at this point. I figured I was off the hook for the rest of class. After discussing the quiz, we moved on to discussing techniques for writing sections of a legal brief. After a short lecture, we were instructed to write three versions of the issue statement for our case file. The first one was supposed to be too abstract, the second one was supposed to be too specific, and the third one was supposed to be just right.

About ten minutes later, we reconvened. Professor B read his version of the too abstract statement, and I was pleased that mine was almost identical to his. (Although looking back on it, I'm not sure I should be proud of the ability to write bad legal prose.) He then asked for volunteers to share their "just right" statements. Nobody volunteered. He looked around the room at us and said, "Don't make me call on people." I leaned back, confident that I wouldn't get called on, since I talk every day in class.

Well, I got called on, and I was asked to read my statement to the entire class. I totally had it coming, though. After my little pronouncement before class that I volunteer to avoid getting cold-called when I'm unprepared, and after announcing that it's extremely effective, the universe (or, more likely, Professor B) was trying to teach me a lesson.

I'm just hoping my secret won't get around to my other professors. My goal is to be completely prepared for every class, because I could totally see myself getting cold-called with alarming frequency next week.