A Woman Left Lonely

When one makes the decision to quit law, where does she turn for support and advice? What about JD’s who are having trouble finding legal work in an endless sea of newly-minted attorneys? Where do they turn? The question of where to find a support system for such a unique problem is one I still struggle with on a daily basis, even though it has been over a year since I left my law career.

Last year after I quit my job, I did not tell my dad right away. He was going through a health crisis and I didn’t want to upset him. About a week after I put in my notice, the time came for him to have surgery and I went to visit him in the hospital. He asked me how my job was going and I told him I had given notice because I found something better. I hinted that it wasn’t entirely legal related, but that I was happy about my decision and excited about new possibilities. Rather than asking for more details on my new job, he just got this disappointed look on his face and said, “well at least you have your degree.” And that was that. I could tell he felt let down that he could no longer pass my business card along to his friends and brag about his daughter, the attorney. I had never felt more guilty. And then I felt angry that he had the power to make me feel that way.

In the hospital waiting room, my step-brother told me that my husband had mentioned my new job. Was I still an attorney, he asked with a furrowed brow. Well, if he meant was I still barred and licensed to practice law if I wanted, then yes. I don’t think that’s the answer he was looking for.

To put a little perspective on things, I have to tell you that I do not come from a family of overachievers. No one in my immediate family ever attended college, much less any kind of graduate program. I was the one assigned to legitimize everyone by finishing law school and becoming a professional.

My family and I have had our differences. After high school, I was completely estranged from them for about five years. During that time, I moved in with some friends, worked my way through night school at the local community college, and was accepted into a university, which was paid for with grants and loans. By the time I reunited with my family, I was applying to law schools, which thrilled my father to no end. Still, I never felt that close with him or my sisters. It just felt strange to be around them after such a long separation. It is true that you can’t go home again.

Since the two brief conversations I had with my dad and step-brother in the hospital last year, I have not spoken with anyone about my career. My husband and I have since moved across the country and started a new life, so it has been quite simple to not talk about the end of my legal career. My family assumes I am studying for the Bar and will begin practicing once I am admitted. I know I need to have the conversation with them to let them know on no uncertain terms that I am no longer going to practice law professionally. I just haven’t had the courage to initiate the conversation yet since the last time I tried, I felt rejected, guilty, and ashamed.

I know there are many JD’s out there who have been assigned the same role I was, to make the family proud. How have you found support while trying to find legal employment in such a bleak market? Are there any attorneys out there who have chosen not to practice whose families have been supportive? I would love to hear from you, since Thanksgiving is just around the corner…

My Top 6

Below is a list of the most humiliating, ridiculous, and/or evil things I ever witnessed or took part in when practicing law, from least to most egregious.

6.  Perry Mason and the Case of the Felonious Air Freshener.  While interning at a county prosecutor’s office as a 2L, I attended a suppression hearing at which my assigned prosecutor/mentor argued that racial profiling was perfectly Constitutional, so long as the officer had a separate, valid, objective reason for pulling over a defendant.  (Which is unfortunately true by the way.)  In this case, the defendant, a young black man, had an air freshener hanging from his rear-view mirror, which “tended to obstruct” his view of the road, and therefore violated a statute.  The prosecutor won the hearing.  I told him I understood why he won, but I still believed it was unjust that an officer could selectively enforce a statute that millions of drivers violate every day.  He argued that the officer was not necessarily engaging in racial profiling.  I rhetorically asked him how many soccer moms the officer pulled over that week for hanging air fresheners from their rear-view mirrors.  My “mentor” then refused to speak to me for the rest of my summer internship.  I should have known then that I was not cut out to participate in a system that routinely defends absurdities.

5.  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  During my 2L and half of my 3L year, I clerked for a solo practitioner who was just about the moodiest, most inept attorney I had ever met.  He even warned me during the interview that he was moody.  Each morning I would greet him with a smile and a hello, but never once did he look at me or even grunt in my direction.  We communicated only in writing, though the office comprised only about 300 square feet.  Eventually, my pay checks started bouncing.  Then he asked me to lie to his wife about his whereabouts on a couple of occasions.  She could tell I was lying for him and he apparently caught hell for it.  He basically accused me of purposely lying badly in order to get him in trouble.  Then one day, he asked me to perform a google search for him on his computer, during which I inadvertently saw his search history.  Apparently he was into swingers clubs.  I pretended not to see anything since he was breathing down my neck the entire time. 

Eventually, I was able to put in my notice so I could relocate for the summer to complete a clerkship.  I tried not to think about what a nasty, weird person he was until I was forced to disclose on a job application that I had worked for him.  The prospective employer contacted him for a reference and he told them he would not hire me because—wait for it – I am “not a people person.”  I got the job anyway because I think the firm knew what a crazy kook that guy was.  As for his ineptness, apparently the local bar association caught on because a few months after starting my first job out of law school, he was publicly disciplined for lying to a judge during a sentencing hearing.  To top it all off, years later I received a friend request from him on facebook.  Ignore!

4.  Ebenezer Scrooge or Henry Potter?  My supervising attorney once asked me why everyone thought he “owed them a fuckin’ living.”  Apparently, his secretary had been fishing around for a bonus since she was coming up on her ten-year anniversary with the firm.  I told him perhaps she wanted to feel appreciated for being a loyal secretary.  He complained that she screwed things up a lot and she was not the one bringing in all the money.  He then turned to his computer to retrieve an electronic file and realized he had no idea where to find it because his secretary organized everything for him.  So he shouted for her to come in and find the file, all the while acting completely impatient about it.  After she left, I pointed out that he seems to need her help quite a bit.  He ignored me and asked me to sit in his chair and type an email he dictated because he was lousy at using Outlook.  He seemed to rely on his employees quite a bit, though in his mind he owed them nothing.

3.  Just Following Orders.  I once represented a client who had some developmental disabilities as well as a raging drug and alcohol habit.  His various ailments rendered him unable to recall events that occurred more than five minutes ago.  His neighbor was similarly disabled, and they hated each other. He had various cases pending, and he was really bothered by his neighbor, so my supervising attorney told me to get a restraining order against the neighbor.  I raised my concerns about the client’s memory problems and asked for any advice on how to handle direct examination.  “Wing it,” was the response I received.  I pressed the supervising attorney a little and asked if he had any other advice, and he responded, “I’m your boss.  Just do it.”  So I tried my best to prepare the client, although he could not actually recall any specific disputes with the neighbor.  A few days before the hearing, I became concerned about going through with the hearing since I did not believe I had a good faith basis for trying to get the restraining order.  (You know, pesky ethical rules we attorneys must consider from time to time).  I raised this concern with my supervising attorney and he spat, “I told you before, I’m your boss.  Just do it.”  So I did it.  Is it any wonder the judge declined to issue the order and instead told the two men to just stay away from each other?  My supervising attorney seemed happy with the hours I billed for undertaking this worthless endeavor, though, which is really all that matters.

2.  It Would Be So Much Easier to Catch Criminals If Only They Would Endanger More Lives.  During a drunk-driving negotiation with a prosecutor, I noted that my client’s driving was not that horrendous, in that he was only pulled over for speeding 5-10 miles per hour over the posted limit, a fairly common charge.  Normally, this would put a client in the “non-aggravated” category for drunk driving.  I argued that some drunk drivers actually swerve into the wrong lane or drive the wrong way down a one-way street, which is certainly more dangerous than minor speeding.  The prosecutor’s position: he would rather the client had swerved or driven in the wrong direction, because it’s much easier for the police to spot him as a drunk driver.  Oh-kaaayyyyyy...

1.  It’s a Good Thing He Didn’t Die or We Would’ve Had to Deal with a Damages Cap.  One of my firm’s civil clients was a boy who had been sexually assaulted.  My job was to perform research to determine the average settlement or jury award in similar cases.  One of the similar cases I found involved a teenage girl who was raped on a church camping trip.  My supervising attorney’s reaction?  “That’s just a teenage girl.  We could get a lot more money for this kid.” 

Does anyone else have horror stories they would like to share about the practice of law?

Worst Client Ever?

For those of you who have had the privilege of practicing in such a prestigious field as family law, you may want to check out this video posted by Gregory Forman, an attorney and family court mediator in South Carolina.  I am still laughing...

"I will pay you two dollars now and my mother will help with the rest."

Famous Ex-Lawyers: Franz Kafka

This makes me truly happy.  I never knew Franz Kafka used to be an attorney.  According to Wikipedia, anyway.  It does follow a certain logic.  Who else would know what it's like to wake up one day feeling like an insect but an insurance attorney?  When I was practicing law, I experienced this feeling more than a few times. 

At any rate, I love his work and it gives me hope that practicing law does not necessarily extinguish one's creative instincts forever.

From Humility to Humiliation

So where were we? I had just been informed that my temporary admin assignment was going to end after only three short months. My job prospects were pretty slim considering I had just left the legal field and it had taken me months (almost a year?) to find a non-legal job. I felt alienated from everyone – my husband, family (I’ll get to that in another post), friends, former colleagues. Is there any worse feeling than being surrounded by loved ones and feeling totally alone? I even stopped answering my phone because I knew my friends would ask the basic catch-up questions about career, family, and upcoming vacations.

In the meantime, I was still going to work every day, with no real defined expiration date, but I knew I had to act fast. At that point, I simply needed to find a job –any job- that would provide a steady stream of income while I thought about my next move. After all, I still had student loans to pay. So I did something desperate. I applied for a job at a call center. A specific call center. It had always been in the back of my mind as an “in case of emergency” plan. Like the fire escape ladder tucked behind the shoe rack in my closet, I had hoped I would never have to use it.

Did I mention that when I practiced law, I primarily worked as a criminal defense attorney? This little tidbit weighed heavily on me when I decided to apply at “SIP, Inc.,” aka “Suicide is Painless, Incorporated.” You see, the reason I knew the place would probably hire me is because I used to send my clients to them when they needed to find jobs prior to sentencing. No one in their HR department had ever heard the term “background check,” much less performed one. While completing the online application, all I could think about was how I would respond if I ran into a former client. This had happened a couple of times in the past, but I always knew the attorney-client privilege obligated me to ignore them unless they acknowledged me first. I was guessing, however, that if a former client saw me working at the call center, they would probably have a couple questions for me. I decided that if I ever encountered this situation, I would simply lean in, lower my voice, and tell him I had switched to the journalism field and was doing undercover work for an exposé on the various indignities suffered by those who work for minimum wage. I sort of borrowed the concept from Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed, which I had been required to read in a college sociology course, back when I believed higher education would guarantee me a safe, journalistic detachment from the working poor.

The actual application process did not involve uploading a resume or references. All I had to do was list my former employers and contact numbers for them. Since I knew none of my former work places would be contacted, I did not hide the fact that I worked at a law firm. I just did not fill out the section that asked for position titles. Again, I knew no one would read the application; they basically interviewed and hired everyone because of so much turnover. I also disclosed my JD on the education section, knowing the person who read it probably did not know or care what a JD was. A few days after submitting my application, I was contacted by an HR representative who asked me to come in for an interview. This process consisted of taking basic reading and spelling tests, and being introduced to the call center equipment (a headset). If I could spell “sandwich” (the judges probably also would have accepted “sandwhich”) and wear the headset without asphyxiating myself, I was in. I almost cried when they offered me a position, mainly because of the indignity of it all, but somewhat because I knew I would be able to make my student loan payment and possibly even help with other monthly bills.

I also felt a certain sense of relief at having hit bottom. How could things get any worse?

As a side note, I feel like I should be describing the changes occurring in my marriage at this time, but since so much happened at once, that will most likely be my next post. I have come to realize that the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, so I am going to cover only one major change per post until I catch up to present day…

Jose Aponte: 0. TTT: 100,000

This just in from the Wall Street Journal: some lawyers make as little as $15 per hour.  Where were you guys back in 2004?  Maybe you were there all along, but I ignored articles like these, convinced I would never be one of "them." 

The truth is, I did not have a very tough time finding a job after law school.  But I never received an offer even close to the median salary of $75k my school advertised in their marketing materials.  And I went to a top-20 school.  Has anyone else heard of American University's Washington College of Law? 

(Oh, and if you don't know what "TTT" means, check out "Third Tier Reality."  You won't be sorry.) 

Poor Jose Aponte...

Things Fall Apart

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." 
- Marilyn Monroe

I always wonder if Marilyn was really that insightful or if her publicist wrote that quote for her.  I wish I could say getting laid off from my admin gig after only a few short months brought out my inner Marilyn, but that would be a lie.  In reality, it terrified and angered me.

I began temping at the end of April, beginning of May last year.  At first, I felt exhilerated.  Finally, I could breathe again and I had time to take care of myself.  I was exercising again.  I had lost five pounds and my skin was looking good.  I ate better, I slept better, I read books.  I was even picking up some valuable skills that I was certain would transfer well into my next career move, whatever that might be.  And then, it happened.

In mid July, my boss strolled over to my desk one morning and informed me that corporate was moving our office to a city about 350 miles away.  Only he, the CFO, and the senior admin ("Alex") would be kept on permanently.  Alex would be working from a remote office, while the two head honchos would physically relocate.  He mentioned the possibilty of me working remotely for a while after the move to foster a smooth transition.  I heard none of it, though.  All I could see was a huge "unemployed" sign flashing right before my eyes.

It just so happened that my husband called to ask me out to lunch that day.  He worked right down the street, so he picked me up at noon and asked me how my day was going.  I immediately began crying.  I think he could sense what had happened and when I told him about the move, he simply said, "I guess that's the life of a temp." 

Again, I wish I could have summoned my inner Marilyn in that moment.  Instead, my inner Britney materialized, and I found myself wanting to shave my head and beat my husband senseless with the nearest umbrella.  I did the only sensible thing I could think of and turned my hostility toward him.  How could he have let me quit my permanent job for a temporary one?  How could he be so casual about my career being in the toilet?  Why did I even bother telling him about anything when he never offered any support, only cold, hard facts?  After about half an hour of screaming in the car, we decided to go to lunch after all because the new burger restaurant we planned on going to supposedly had some pretty tasty grub.  I figured sweet potato fries could only improve my mood at that point.  And since I would be unemployed in a few short weeks anyway, who would care if I took a two hour lunch?

When I got back to work that afternoon, the office was empty except for Alex.  She had heard I got the news and informed me of how angry she was that they did not tell me during my interview that the company had been planning the move for a while. 

My anger turned into rage. During the interview, my boss had implied that the temporary position could become permanent in a few months.  I asked Alex why they didn't just hire someone else who was already unemployed and who would have been thankful for a few months of work.  Apparently, all of the other candidates either smelled like cigarette smoke or gave off the impression that they would be calling in sick just about every day.  I was the lucky chosen one. 

For the rest of the day, I sulked.  When I got home, I pouted.  And then I emailed my employment agent about the end of my assignment, who failed to email me back for the next two weeks.  During those two weeks, I convinced myself that she was in on the conspiracy to make me give up my legal career for a three-month pit stop on the way to Unemployed-ville. 

Little did I know that things were going to get just a little worse before they got better...

Time Flies When You're in Upheaval

Greetings from the other side! I have truly missed writing my blog, but I was in such a deep funk for a while that I had to give myself some time to focus on something besides law school regret. Thank you to everyone who sent me wonderful messages of support! Since it has been a year, I am not going to try and cover everything in one entry. I may not even write about it all in chronological order.

For starters, I will say that my life now is much better than it was a year ago when I left the law. Since then, I have moved, started earning a bigger paycheck, and am now in the midst of paying off all of my law school debt, in addition to my husband's student loans. We are on a three-year plan, after which we hope to start a family.

How did this all happen? I am not quite sure myself, but let's try to start from the beginning, which I believe was right at the end of my law career...

Are Law Students Ignorant Cretins?

A retired Canadian law professor claims the current Canadian law school model has turned legal education into "kindergarten for cretins." Robert Martin claims deregulation of law school tuition resulted in schools developing the Wal-Mart Model (presumably meaning law schools are now offering cheap education at a high volume). The McLean's article, which does not link to Martin's original article that was published in the journal, Interchange, does not specify whether Martin believes the legal market is over-saturated as a result, but by stating that law degrees can now be bought by virtually any sucker who will pay the inflated tuition, he is certainly implying just that.

I am a bit offended that Martin calls law school graduates illiterate and ignorant. Most law school graduates, even those who did not attend first-tier institutions, are probably fairly intelligent and ambitious, although misguided in their attempt to secure middle-class lifestyles by paying six-figures for degrees of questionable value. I believe most of the blame falls on the institutions who charge exorbitant tuition rates while promising graduates starting salaries of $70K +. Maybe that story will be in next month's issue.

Another Grad Who Would Like a Refund

The New York Times reported today on a woman named Cortney Munna, who incurred over $100,000 in student loan debt for a 4-year degree from NYU. She is now attending night school in order to defer her loans, but the interest is still accruing. Once her loans come out of deferment, the payments should be about $700 per month. She currently earns $22 per hour working for a photographer.

The article does not specify what type of degree Munna earned, but I am going to take a wild guess that it was of the Liberal Arts variety. As I've said before, most liberal arts degrees are basically useless. The only use mine ever had was that I could put it at the top of my resume when applying for jobs after college. None of the positions for which I applied actually required knowledge of political science or philosophy, but the companies still required a B.A. or B.S.

This is the sad reality of higher education. Students spend thousands of dollars and go into debt in order to earn degrees that will help them achieve middle-class jobs, but the loan payments will end up putting these suckers back to the position they were in prior to taking out the loans. For example, Munna works for $22 per hour. Without her college degree, she might have been able to find office work for $10-$15 per hour. She takes home $2300 per month with her current position, but $700 of that will eventually go toward her loans. So, that leaves her with $1600 per month, which is about $12-$13 per hour prior to withholding, and $10 per hour after withholding. So what did she gain by attending NYU?

How much are your student loan payments and what percentage of your current income does that comprise? Was taking on student loans worth it in the end?

"You do realize we're all going to be dead soon, don't you?"

Once one realizes she no longer wants to be an attorney, being one becomes intolerable.

I remember being mired in despair during my search for a non-legal job, when I would routinely come home from work and log onto job search websites. Sometimes, if I was feeling particularly discouraged, I would skip the job search websites and go straight for a glass of wine. I remember crying to my husband about how I was "wasting my life" and that I was starting to hate living my life. At work, I was miserable, and when I wasn't at work, I was dreading having to go back.

I kept remembering what a friend of mine had once told me when I was complaining to him about some trivial problem I was having: "You know what - who cares? Do you realize we're all going to be dead soon?" At the time, I just laughed, agreed with him, and changed the subject. But when I thought of it in the context of my job situation, it began to have greater meaning. Hating my life was not a trivial problem, but the truth behind the sentiment remained: we are all going to die eventually (even soon if you consider how old the average human is when she dies compared to how old the universe is), so we best not waste precious days worrying about trivial concerns.

And, to be fair, some of my concerns were trivial. Sure, hating my life was a big deal, but worrying about quitting the law was trivial. I worried about how much less money my husband and I would have to live on. I worried about a loss of prestige that results when giving up the job title of "attorney." I worried about how my family and friends would react to the news. I worried about never finding a career that truly fulfills me. These concerns were all trivial when I considered the fact that, if I were to live to be 80 years old, I had already lived approximately 40% of my life. Why spend the remaining 60% worrying about what other people (people I mostly see only on national holidays or at weddings) would think about my decision to leave the law?

During my job search, when I reminded myself that I was going to be dead "soon," it made being an attorney (temporarily) a bit easier, and it made the job search easier, too. I still dreaded upcoming telephone conferences, motion hearings, and unfinished briefs that needed my attention, but I began to separate myself from them emotionally. They were just a part of my job, not a part of me. Motion hearings and briefs would go on if I were dead. My life, however, is temporary, so I began to focus on what I wanted and not what I hated.

With respect to my job search, I started to not care as much about where I ended up working. I had been so consumed with finding the perfect job for me that I didn't stop to think that maybe, at this point in my life, there is no perfect job. Right now, maybe all I need is to earn some income to help pay the bills, and think about what I really want out of life, not just what I want out of a job.

When I tell people that story about my friend dispensing such brash advice, most people think it was rather insensitive. But to this day, I am thankful to him for putting so succinctly what Richard Carlson, of Don't Sweat the Small Stuff... fame, took 272 pages to articulate: "Who cares? Do you realize we're all going to be dead soon?"

The Votes Are In!

Last week, I posted two poll questions regarding readers' thoughts on higher education as well as the debt load carried with certain degrees. 43% of respondents stated that if they could do it all over again, they would go to tech school or learn a trade after graduating high school (myself included!). 20% would earn a bachelor's degree.

As I suspected, most of the J.D.'s (31 out of 41 J.D. respondents) admitted to having $50K - $100K+ in student loan. The other 10 J.D.'s had $50K or under in student loan debt.

I have mixed feelings about the results. On the one hand, it is nice to know I am not alone in regretting the astonishing amount of time and money spent on a (now useless) advanced degree. On the other hand, the fact that so many respondents would learn a trade or get a technical degree rather than earn any other advanced degree is a bit discouraging. It seems to me that some products of the higher education system are questioning the value of their advanced degrees. Are institutions of higher learning encouraging too many folks to earn these degrees? Any other theories?

Famous Ex-Lawyers: Gerard Butler

I always enjoy hearing about famous people who were once lawyers. Apparently, Gerard Butler has a law degree and worked at a law firm while he sang in a band. He had a little problem with attendance, though. If you fast-forward to about 4:50, you can watch him discuss his distinguished legal career.

The Dreaded Question or "So, Did You End Up Going to Law School?"

Last night, I had an unexpected run-in with a former co-worker. I was at a volunteer orientation meeting. (Since I plan on going into health care, I am going to volunteer some time at one of the local hospitals.) Afterward, as I was leaving, a woman came up to me and told me she couldn't remember my name, but we had worked together a few years back. I recognized her, but couldn't remember her name either. We re-introduced ourselves and began chatting about what we had been up to. She said, "So, when you left, you were talking about going to law school. Did you ever end up going?"

I felt unprepared, to say the least. My mind had been so preoccupied with this upcoming wedding (where I know I will need to explain my recent career developments to old friends) that I had forgotten I might run into people on the street who would ask about what I was doing with my life since the last time I saw them.

I explained that yes, I had gone to law school, and I did end up practicing for a few years. But it wasn't for me, so I left the law about a month ago. I also told her I planned on going back to school. She smiled and told me everything sounded "great," although she did ask me why I left. I told her I didn't like arguing with people all day, laughed, then changed the subject. I left feeling pleased about how smoothly it went. It was good practice for the upcoming wedding. I figure things will go similarly, except people won't really be interested in what I'm saying. That's the upside to having a group of friends that includes a disproportionate percentage of functioning alcoholics. (Actually, they're all just really fun at weddings.)

When I got home, I checked my email and was greeted by a terrific message from a reader, a former attorney, who had this to say about my insecurity:

"You are decompressing in the same way that an alcoholic - no offense intended at all - has withdrawal symptoms. Of course you care about what others think of this mistake which both you and I made. Nevertheless, I'll bet that fewer people wonder about your career choices than you think.

For those who have the audacity to ask you, here's your answer: 'I didn't like being a lawyer.' 'But you spent so much cash on it?' 'I didn't like being a lawyer.' 'But it took three years!' 'I didn't like being a lawyer.' 'But what about your future?' 'I didn't like being a lawyer.'"

Both of these events last night helped me realize how much my apprehension about explaining my decision is self-manufactured. People have their own lives to worry about, so my decision to change careers really isn't that earth-shattering to anyone else but me. Since it's such a major change for me, though, I am a little fixated on it. Much like an alcoholic fixates on sobriety after getting clean. What it ultimately comes down to, for anyone interested in hearing the real story (at the wedding or elsewhere) is this:

I didn't like being a lawyer.

Sorry, I Must Have Skipped That Year

The New York Times ran an Op-Ed piece from Stephen Joel Trachtenberg, President Emeritus of George Washington University. Trachtenberg believes undergraduate and professional degree programs could be shortened in order to reduce costs to students and get them out into the workforce sooner. He cites Northwestern Law School, which has a two-year J.D. program, as well as Texas Tech, which offers a three-year M.D. program. He also proposes the idea of a three-year Bachelor's degree, which might include two full summer semesters to make up for the eliminated fourth year.

I agree with these proposals, particularly the idea of a two-year J.D. By my third year in law school, I had pretty much learned that being an attorney would take years of training and dedication, and that law school mostly just teaches you how to start finding the answers to legal questions. In fact, I think law students should complete an apprenticeship for their second year, in order to teach them what an attorney's job really is. Judging from the current law school model, a student might get the idea that attorneys regularly partake in esoteric discussions about "substantive due process" versus "procedural due process." In reality, most attorneys regularly engage in expletive-laced discussions about looming deadlines ("where's my fucking brief already?!) and gridlocked negotiations ("when are you gonna make me a fucking offer?).

Do you think students should be given the opportunity to earn their degrees in less time?

Image courtesy of healingdream.