Nowhere, in no time, under no circumstances would anyone ever go up to a judge, give him a hypothetical suit involving crazed, drunk bus drivers, enflamed sheep, rock climbers, falsely imprisoned trespassing customers and a balding farmer and ask the judge to, without his books, clerks or any other written material, state the ruling common law, weigh both sides of the case and make the correct judgment according to the ruling law concerning every minute detail of the case within three hours. NO ONE. "That would be stupid" you say. Right you are, friend.
But, you may have guessed this already, that's EXACTLY what they try and do in Law School Finals: surmize whether or not one has learned the law, or at least guessed at what one's professor thinks the law is, and give the professor a close approximation of what the professor wants to hear. All in a frantic race to type more than the other guys sitting around one for the next 180 minutes. Yep. Exactly how it's going to be in the "real" world! Oh, and did I mention that this three-hour exam determines upwards of 95% of one's grade, or approximately the rest of one's professional life? The thought of being pidgeon-holed into a crappy career for the next 40 years because of my first year Torts final gives me the willies. But that very well may happen.
If that is the case, I will be leaving the state of Utah in early February, moving to my cabin in Montana and writing the next great American novel. Or at least a highly addictive children's novel that appeals even more to adults (in the vein of Harry Potter) and rake in the millions from Hebgen Lake. If, in fact, I pass my first semester of law school and end up in a government job, what's 40 years anyway? That's like 1.5 Kurt Cobain lifespans. Flashpan and a little smoke, and I'll be cruising the Mediterranean with the Mrs. with a sweet 401(k) and a handful of Roth IRAs. I aspire to then wear only brightly colored Hawaiian shirts tucked into my mid-thigh Khaki shorts, tied back with my leather braided belt, and my smattering of wavy silver hair kept safe from the breeze underneath my mesh-back baseball cap. To accompany me will be my trusty videocamera and my lovely 5th wife. (I have commitment issues, what can I say?) What a happy day that will be.