TO-WIT: CLASS ACT
Though I have been out of law school for many years, I have always believed in continuing my legal education. I was not however enamored when our state supreme court recently made continuing legal education mandatory. First off, there’s only so much time in the day and I can think of many better ways to service my clients than trying to keep up with the law. In addition, the mandatory part just rubs me the wrong way. I’m a professional, damn it, and I don’t need to be told when to brush up. If the court had seen fit to leave the matter of my legal education to me, I would have certainly signed up for some of those classes eventually.
Apparently though the court has determined that, if left to their own devices, lawyers throughout the Commonwealth would make no effort to continue their legal education. Despite my views on the matter, I think it took a lot of courage, wisdom and insight for our supreme court to order mandatory continuing legal education over the objections of so many, and isn’t that refreshing? I have always had the greatest respect for those jurists who can bring to the bench the experiences gleaned from their own lawyering days.
For my part, I have always been a dedicated student. In fact, when I was in law school, I took this “student of the law” bit quite seriously. I was so earnest in my quest for knowledge that I even irritated some of my classmates. I didn’t understand it then, but as I have since come to discover in private practice, one does not always endear one’s self to one’s colleagues by being right all the time.
Despite occasional harassment from my classmates, I really loved law school. There I could be transported far, far away, to a wondrous realm where high intellect, justice and fair play ruled supreme. I was young and idealistic then, a neonate lawyer, if you will, and my hopes were still buoyed by the passion of my beliefs. It gave me no end of comfort to think that a kingdom of law and order actually existed somewhere, and ever since graduation it has remained my fondest hope that someday before I hang up my briefs I will get to visit such a place again.
Recently I found myself back at my law school to attend the first mandatory continuing legal education seminar. As I once again passed through those vaulted corridors of learning, I was awash with memories. How clearly I recall scurrying down those very same hallways on my way to class, ducking into shadows, avoiding the light whenever possible. See? I was practicing to be a lawyer even then.
I took my seat in the auditorium and looked around. There must have been three hundred lawyers there. I hadn’t seen so many colleagues gathered in one place with such a single-mindedness of purpose since the time two loaded school busses hit each other head-on in front of the courthouse.
The class began with the introduction of the featured lecturer. He mounted the podium and slowly looked around. I could tell that the lecturer was a bit of a hot dog as he launched into his material with relish.
“This is the first day of the rest of your career,” he said. “I want each one of you to look at the person on your left and right. By the time this class is over, two of the three of you ….. will be asleep.” It was the first time in my professional life that I ever yearned to be in the majority.
It was just like being back in law school. Within minutes I had to go to the bathroom. As I rose to attend to my business, I hardly noticed the burly figure lurking by the doorway.
“Now where do you think you’re going, me bucko,” he growled, barring the exit with a hairy forearm. I looked at him quizzically. He had a wooden leg and a tattered black eye patch and he smelled of bay rum cologne, taken orally. It was clear from his gait that he was a tipped staff.
As I was in a hurry, I only paid him half a mind, and he responded with the application of half a nelson. In a carefully rehearsed series of grunts and hand gestures he explained that the court was determined that we absorb every ounce of wisdom and to that end it had issued an order prohibiting anyone from leaving to go to the bathroom until the lecture was concluded. Well, I’ve always been a sucker for the logical approach, especially when accompanied by force majeure. Accordingly I returned to my seat and immediately quit drinking the coffee.
Thereafter I tried very hard to pay attention to the lecturer, I really did, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t remember a thing he said. My powers of concentration are not what they once were. Neither is my bladder control.
Two hours later, when the speaker finally said “Thank you for your attention,” all three hundred colleagues rushed for the door like a tornado heading for a trailer park. Try though he might, the tipped staff could not get out of the way. He screamed “Shiver me timbers,” and was taken by the flood.
Sad to tell, I remember virtually nothing of the lecture, but the day was not without its lesson. I learned that the next time a judge leaves the bench in the middle of my oral argument, I ought not to be so miffed. There is a distinct possibility that he or she may return with significantly enhanced powers of concentration, the better by which to hear me out. I am much wiser about such matters now, and isn’t that what continuing legal education is all about?
© 1993, S. Sponte, Esq.