High School Never Ends

This is my awesome high school English teacher.

It never fails to fascinate me how much law school has in common with high school.  For instance, I know I was at my first trial ad class last Tuesday, but it felt like I was back at a seventh-grade pep rally.

The cool kids sat off to the right, in a jury box, higher up than the rest of us.  Of course, they walked in as a group, slowly unsmilingly, while the girls off to my left talked about everyone that walked in the door.  “Oh my God, she’s such a slut.”  The king and queen bees in their J. Crew cool sweaters and knee high boots took a seat and immediately their hangers-on rushed over to them, begging for attention, talking furiously, trying to interest their heroes in their winter vacations. 

The class clowns in front of me told jokes about the “one who got away.”  “Man, did you see the rock on her hand?  Her husband’s a doctor.”  The people around them watched and laughed.  Off to my right were the normals, the ones who would love to be special and are completely uncomfortable with their averageness.  Slouching slightly, not quite making eye contact with anyone.  Just normal faces in the crowd. 

This is my other awesome English teacher.
He is playing a banjo.

At the front of the room was student government, smiling with pride, confident, open, and friendly.  The athletes, ready to be recognized for their greatness, stood nearby.  I sat at the back of the room, seemingly the only person comfortable with being alone and watching everyone else.  The only one who wasn’t part of a tightly contained clique. 

Law school is full of the small-town mentality I left behind.  It’s probably part of why I feel so self-conscious in front of my peers.  Instead of seeing future colleagues and people who are like me, I see people who want to beat me up in gym class under the teacher’s nose and people who very carefully crowd their table at lunch so that no one can join them.

What I’m saying is:  I have so many issues.