Clerkship Class Hell

Warning! Cranky post!

Today I’m wishing I was anywhere but here. I’m sitting in an empty classroom, in the building creatively named Teaching Unit II. I’m here because to get academic credit for a judicial internship the University requires us to take a 1-hour credit course on judicial interning.

As my few but faithful readers know, the Court of Appeals in Corpus Christi selected me for an internship this summer. I can get as much as 4 college credit hours for it, but first I have to take this class. It almost didn’t run at all; rumor was the University couldn’t find anyone to teach it. Because the Dean of the College of Law and her husband are two of the instructors, I believe it. I guess it was too much to ask under the circumstances, but I did request alternative accommodations. As a full-time employee, I’m fortunate enough to have an employer who gave me the opportunity to take a leave of absence for a clerkship. I explained in an email to the dean that a three-day, weekday class from 9-5 on such a short-notice arrangement would put a substantial hardship on me and strain relations with my employer. I reminded her of UH’s “commitment” to the evening students, and asked for alternatives. Evening class, weekend class, anything. Know what she said? Of course you know. I almost included a PS at the bottom that said something like this:

P.S. For your convenience I am including a lame excuse you can copy and paste to me in your reply. “While the University wishes it could accommodate every individual student’s needs, blah blah.”

I didn’t include it because I didn’t want to sound annoyed, cynical or bitter. (Dad once said I’m one of the biggest cynics he’s ever known. He told me that almost 15 years ago; I’m still so proud…). Anyway, I got an answer back a week later. The University couldn’t (wouldn’t) help me out and if I wanted the credit I had to come to the class, Monday thru Wednesday. During the day. In two weeks.

I should have expected it. Part-timers get no breaks at UH. I once won an award for excellence in legal research and writing. The award ceremony was on a Thursday morning. Last year the University had an opening for a part-time student on the dean’s committee to discuss issues related to the part-time class. The position required attendance at the meetings which were held—wait for it—during the workday. The Law Review banquet was scheduled on a Thursday evening during my Oil & Gas class. I bitch and try to hold them to account; I send emails, point out the inequities. They don’t care. I don’t expect them to anymore, but I still send flames on principle.

Well, you already know I made it here. My coworker Linda managed to work it out somehow and got me off the schedule for these three days. She’s amazing (thanks, Linda!).

So here I am, waiting for class to start and watching my wireless network connection come on and off like a traffic light. (Even though I’m in the room with a wireless router, my signal is only 40%). Though class starts at 9, I got here about 7:30 because I didn’t want to be stuck in traffic for two hours on the way in. I’m so worried the dean is going to come in, slap me on the back, and say something like “So you made it after all!” If she does I just know I’ll go all Ozzy and bite her head off. So if you see anything in the paper about it, you’ll know why this is my last post.

What are we going to do in this all-important class for which I am missing three days of work? I’ve looked at the outline and I can summarize it for you in two words: BUSY WORK. We are going to have an orientation about what you do in a clerkship (something I will do again when the clerkship begins); then we will talk about legal research and do some exercises on proper citation form (something we already did in Legal Research and Writing). Then they will give us a paper to write and 24 hours to do it.

It’s now 8:41 and students are starting to filter in. I’ve been joined by 8 people so far. Age check: there are perhaps two thirtysomethings and one in her 40s. The rest are in their 20s. I’ve been going to this school for two years now and I don’t recognize anyone. I feel like an interloper in the full-timer’s world. They chatter and twitter about their spring exams and their summer clerkships, and I sit in the back, glaring at them over the top of my laptop screen while sullenly typing this post. And I suddenly realize I’m the class Goth. (And I’m not even wearing black!)