Class Struggle

And now the end is near. And so I face the final semester.

I will ignore, for at least the next few months, the fact that after the month of May, I will never be a student again. If I can, I will ignore this fact for the next few years.

Somehow incredibly, and mostly due to the clinic, I will spend very little time in a classroom this semester. I will only be in school from 2-6 on Tuesdays, 4-6 on Wednesdays, and 2-4 on Thursdays.

Of course, the four-day-weekend is not without its perils. When my poor liver heard about my schedule, it promptly screamed, waved a white flag in horror, and retreated into its cave.

That said, this schedule ensures that I will spend as little time in the tower of terror as is humanly possible. I expect my general happiness and sense of aesthetics will increase exponentially.

However, painting me as someone who only has 8 hours of work to do a week is misleading. We have, of course, the matter of homework, which I vow will try might consider doing.

Additionally, there is the small matter of the criminal clinic. Contrary to popular belief, this is not a rehabilitation program for those of us who like to break the law.

Rather, those of us in the clinic actually perform as lawyers. This semester, I will be working in the D.A.'s office down in bucolic Quincy. I am told that the purpose of our office is not to put people behind bars, but rather, to pursue the interests of justice. Bull crap. That's like learning karate so you never have to use it, as The Simpsons once pointed out. I fully intend to abuse my newfound powers working for the man to send as many people to hang from the neck as possible.

My second class this year is Sports Law. Unlike every other class at the law school, this concerns a subject area of general interest. Some have warned me that this is really an antitrust and labor law course disguised under a sheer facade of cases involving football teams. Regardless of this fact, I hereby pledge to lead the class in as many tangents as possible, so that we may learn the minimum amount possible and instead explore why the New York Yankees are the incorporation of pure evil. In fact, I already have participated twice in this class, kind of by accident. I know. I'm as surprised as you are.

And last and definitely least, is my Intellectual Property class. This class will feature the last final exam of my life, which is like that last safety who is the only bastard standing between me and the end zone. I have no doubt I will end up fumbling the ball.

Also, I have already explained how I was forced to sit in the front row of this class, a position I will have to assume twice a week for the rest of the year. As a result, my reputation is forever sullied. Everyone who walks into that class must expect me to be some sort of eager classhole. In fact, in between my raising my hand in Sports Law and impersonating Studious Sammy in I.P., I fear I am giving off the impression that I am a responsible student. God save us all.