Last Friday, late afternoon, the UPS man brought my back a goodie…my new rolling bookbag. On Monday, when I showed up for class, it was clear that several other people were evidently visited by the rolling bag fairy. Of my new “gang of four,” three of us are now sporting gravity-friendly paper-transportation devices. 

I don’t know about anyone else, but I am so much happier with my new bag. Come Friday, when I have two classes and two “tutoring” sessions, which means I should carry all 4 casebooks, my back will be very grateful. 

Have I mentioned the “tutoring?” Cal Western offers one extra session per week, optional, for each of the 4 core classes 1Ls take. These are taught by 3Ls, usually, who previously did very well in the course. They offer additional information and help–students can ask questions, of course, but there are also handouts, etc. I’m not sure how often I will be attending all of these, but it’s good to know they are there.

Today, during the couple of hours we have between classes, I had lunch with and went to study with three other women (I’m jokingly calling us the “gang of four”). We’re an interesting mix–ethnically we pretty much have everything except Continental-Asian covered–one African-American (really–her father is from Nigeria), one (I think) Mexican and maybe Philippino or Pacific Islander mix, one blonde Central Valley California girl, and me. They’re all bright and have great senses of humor, and I think we’ll end up making an interesting and effective study group. I was happy when they asked me to join in. 

Anyway, during our informal studying today, I asked what the others thought about our Civil Procedure prof. Christina (the second mentioned above) who was a journalist and teacher in her previous life, said she wasn’t sure about him yet. Then she compared the course to Defense Against the Dark Arts (Harry Potter reference), and the rest of us completely lost it laughing.

It’s actually a pretty accurate when you think about it–in that course we’re learning all the technical rules that less-than-scrupulous people have been known to misuse in arguably evil ways. Of course, those rules can also be used for good and the only way to defend against the scumbags is to know what they are going to try and pull. 

So now, of course, we’re trying to figure out which of our professors is Snape.

I’m waiting in a common area for a class to begin and watching my fellow students. One guy in my section just showed up wearing the most old-Jewish-lady-looking-huge-white-framed sunglasses. Only a gay man with a certain flamboyant flair could even think of pulling those off. I’m pretty sure this guy is straight. Ew.

Then again, I recently read a review of the nightlife in San Diego where a reader commented “Why is it that only in San Diego do the straight guys dress like gay men.” At least that would help to explain why my gaydar has been so seriously off here. Almost all the guys I meet register as “gay.” I think it’s a SoCal thing.

I have just discovered the most fun a human can possibly have: surfing. 

This morning I had the first of a two-morning weekend surfing clinic, and it was great. For women only, the participants (7 of us) ranged from 47 to a sophomore in high school. Most had no experience, two had some but wanted to take lessons from someone other than their boyfriend/husband who had no patience or skill in teaching (apparently “Just stand up already!!” is not helpful).

We had two instructors, fun girls with what seems to be the stereotypical surfer personality–in other words, they were disgustingly happy and perky. One gave up her job as a tax accountant (she was about to take her CPA exams) to teach surfing, the other works with autistic kids on the side. Happily, neither was built like Elle MacPherson so I didn’t feel completely intimidated, but they both had (and yes, this will sound weird) amazing feet. I think that you must use all sorts of teeny muscles in your feet doing this so theirs were perfectly tanned and toned, with cute toenail polish and the occasional toe ring, and they looked (again, this is weird) like happy feet that could snap small branches with their toes. The toenail polish seemed to be the one nod to make-up either bothered with. One of them told me, “I started surfing and now I never wear make-up, my hair is always fried on the ends, and I’ve never been happier.” 

After signing our releases (a bit unnerving since one item listed was about beasties that will eat you) and getting to know each other a bit, we sat in the sand and they taught us about rip currents, the difference between inside and outside (before the break zone, after the break), and the parts of the board. Then they demonstrated how to pop up–which is how you get to the standing position on the board. Then we moved over to our own boards (these were heavy foam beginner boards, long, forgiving, and less likely to injure us if they hit us), in the sand, and pretended to paddle, and popped up on command.

Popping up is supposed to be a fluid movement that kind of works like this: on your belly with your feet very near the tail of the board, you paddle to try to match speed with the oncoming wave; at the right time you put your hands under your chest and push up your torso and hips (like a push up, but with some arch) while you simultaneously draw your feet up under you, to that the front one (either) is between your hands or in front of them even; then, you stand (but keep your knees bent for balance and control–deeper bend is better). If you’ve taken yoga, you have a much better chance at popping up successfully quickly–it’s sort of cobra/upward-facing dog to crescent to warrior pose (but with bent back knee). 

So we practiced there in the sand. You want to land with your feet on the spine, front foot near the center of the board or a smidge back, feet about shoulder-width apart or a bit more and perpendicular to the boards axis–arm in front pointing at the beach (as a beginner), back arm back and bent for balance. I surprised myself by getting it pretty right immediately. 

Then we put on our wetsuits and rash guards (to protect the suit). I have never worn a wetsuit and I have to say, there is no way to gracefully put one on (or take it off for that matter). The water was probably warm enough to skip it, but we all decided not to risk it and put them on.  They do conveniently hide cellulite and they are warm, but they are a pain to get on/off.

Anyway, once dressed, we grabbed our boards and headed down the beach to the water. Surf boards weigh more than they look. My arms were just a hair too short to be able to carry mine under my arm like the cool kids, so I hoisted it onto my head for the trek. Even there, it was heavy by the time we got to our spot. As I walked to the edge of the water, I thought about all the things that could go wrong–sharks, stingrays (you must shuffle your feet on the sand under the water here to scare them off), broken limbs, drowning, god-only-knows-what-bacteria in the water (Tijuana often spills sewage and it’s too close for comfort)–then I took a deep breath, said something akin to “screw it,” put the leash on my right ankle, and headed into the water.

To start, the instructors held the back of our boards (one at a time), told us when to paddle, then gave a good shove and told up to pop. This was all being done “inside” where the waves had already broken–that foamy smaller wave-ish stuff nearer the shore. I was first.

I sucked.

I tried to pop at the right time, but I made the cardinal error of holding the rails (edges) of the board rather than putting my hands in push-up position. When you do that, you push harder with one side than the other and pretty much flip that board before you get half-way up. Sploosh, I went in, and came out laughing. 

Some of the other girls got it right on the first try–especially the two who had done it before. Others looked like me. Then I got another turn. This time I sucked again. More girls got it right and stood for at least a second or two. I couldn’t seem to get close. Feet under me, yes, but right off the side, every time. This time I drank a bunch of sea water, but I listened to the advice of the instructor, and tried to correct.

I sucked a third time, but that time I got closer and when I came up, I heard my father’s voice in my head from when he taught me to ski: bend zee knees! The instructor said the same (without the “zee”) and I went back out to wait for my next try. 

On my fourth, I got up and stayed up for a bit! My chest was still burning a bit from the saltwater drink earlier and my nose was running from the gallons of saltwater already flushed through my sinuses, but I had a HUGE smile on my face as the other girls applauded or said encouraging things. 

I was (barely) surfing!

I kept at it–taking my turns and getting up more and more, though not consistently. Soon the instructors let us start trying without their physical help. They’d still help us spot the wave, time when to start paddling, and maybe they even yelled to pop, but I never heard. I could feel when I had a chance and when not, more and more.

Finally, I had a great chance. Lovely wave, plenty of speed, knew I had it, popped just right, and immediately got tossed ass-over-head in a rolling sploosh worthy of film. I flipped and rolled under water, came up, and wondered what I had done so spectacularly wrong. Nothing–it seems that the wave changed directions at the very last moment and it just spanked me, according tot he instructor who saw the whole thing.

As I untangled the leash, I was giggling like an idiot. I was getting tired, but I went back out again and again. I had a couple of good rides, and one that would have been but my arms went on strike at that moment so popping became out of the question (I did ride all the way in on my belly though)–right after me the 47-year old did the same and we laughed about it. 

It was glorious.  I had even seen a seal not 20 feet from me in the water at one point–how cool! I couldn’t remember having a better time doing anything. 

We finally headed in, all of us smiling and laughing and thrilled. I had drunk a ton of the sea and had it flush through my sinuses, my ears, and probably everywhere else; my wetsuit’s crotch was sagging in an uncomfortable way (had been for a while); my chest was still burning from all the inhaled saltwater; I had painfully bent back several nails and one toe in an awkward way, and my hair was in one Gordian knot, but I was never happier. 

And tomorrow, I get to do it again. We’ll go to the “outside” tomorrow (the ones with experience did today). I can hardly wait. 

I’ve taken some Advil to help ward off sore muscles. I’m drinking loads of water to re-hydrate and I plan on doing stretches throughout the afternoon and evening to help avoid whatever my body thinks of throwing at me for such pleasure, but I will be back out there in the morning, even if I have to crawl to get there. 

After waiting a month, I just checked online and the grades for the Summer Enrichment course have been posted. Here’s mine:

That H stands for Honors. After a mediocre performance on the midterm, I must have kicked some butt on the final. I am SO relieved!

Quick note…. I’m waiting for my afternoon class, in the main classroom building. I just noticed a poster on the wall opposite–it is of a scene of farm workers, done by (and promoting the work of) Diego Rivera. I’m pretty sure that confirms that this school has a bunch of Lefties in the admin and faculty.

Saturday we had a barbeque to go to at Jake and Rob’s. They always throw nice events, and this was no exception. Jake made a wonderful homemade sauce for the ribs, others brought yummy beans and desserts, and I brought pasta salad. There was, of course, beer and frozen cocktails, too, and nice people. 

Sunday we had another party to go to. I wasn’t going to go, since it would cut into study time, but since it was a bunch of Christopher’s friends from way back, I decided to join him. Good thing I did since, as we were driving down the 805, he suddenly got a horrible back spasm that completely incapacitated him. He just barely managed to pull off the freeway; then, when he got past the first wave, we made it to a grocery store parking lot. After many deep breaths, he got out and we slowly walked around the store a bit to see if it got better or not. It did, but he was still not doing well. So, I offered to drive to the party if he still wanted to try to go. He did, so we bought a 6-pack (the party was byob) and headed out.

I’m glad we went so that I could meet some of these people I’ve only heard of. They were nice folks, but it was a bit odd– every time C mentioned his sore back, someone offered him some form of pain medication/muscle relaxant. It’s like they were all carrying something. They also were clearly much more into getting drunk than we were. We got the feeling they were living very much the same lives they had 20 years ago. Still, it was good that we went and the fresh grilled fish tacos (tuna caught by one of C’s friends) were fabulous. 

So that left today for the heavy studying. I mean, I got some done yesterday as well, but, with the exception of going to the grocery and making soup, studying was the plan for today. Unfortunately, Benito had other ideas.

Of course, eventually I retrieved my book and got the work done. I’m prepared for class tomorrow, including the extra Westlaw training session (Westlaw is like LexisNexus). 

Oh, and I ordered a rolling book bag. It should arrive by early next week, maybe sooner (the recent bday Amazon gift card was helpful there). I’m hoping for sooner since I start taking the bus again tomorrow and the backpack is weighing a ton. I have a big break between classes tomorrow, but to do the homework for the next day means bring an extra book (at least).

Wonder if I can rig Benito with a bag….

Today is my first “two casebook” class day. That means I have to bring with me, to each of my two classes (Contracts and Civil Procedure), the appropriate enormous and heavy casebook. Plus computer, notebooks, lunch, pens, etc., and the bookbag now weighs more than god. Could be worse–I have a friend who has three classes on Mondays…ouch! I have two each day, luckily, and when one of those is Legal Skills, the book(s) aren’t nearly as huge. 

Anyway, I misread the calendar on the iPhone this morning and so thought I had class at 9-something. I came early to find parking. Turns out my first class isn’t until 10:50 and the only spot I could find is the farthest away of any day I’ve driven. My car is practically in Hillcrest, on Juniper just off 2nd. The map to the left shows the route and the distance (at the bottom).

I must have ticked off some deity because I had to carry that massively hefty bag almost 6/10 of a mile to get to class, and going back is all uphill. Seriously uphill. Not quite San Francisco uphill, but close. Ugh. The last few steps to the third floor lounge area in the main classroom building here at CWSL were killer and I’m not in terrible shape (like some students).

Well, this is the last day I should have to deal with the parking and long walk, except for rare exceptions. Starting Tuesday, I’m taking the bus. It drops me off at Front and C Street (look under the San Diego on the map) and picks me up even closer, at Ash and 1st. Uphill a bit to school, and downhill back (flat from home to the stop). Ah.

But I still need a rolling bag, and a big one at that. I left my paperback Black’s Law Dictionary at home, just to avoid the extra (small) weight! I think I’ll use some of my extra time this morning to see if Amazon has any (I have a gift certificate to use there).  I don’t want to screw up all the good the acupuncture has done by over-stressing the muscles in my hips and lower back.

As for class, yesterday was Legal Skills and Property. The LS prof is a woman I spoke to at the picnic. She probably scared the hell out of some of the more “relaxed” students because she has very specific rules she expects us to follow (like no hats, no gum, no lateness, etc.). None of the rules was onerous, but many of the students were complaining. 

My Property prof is a man I spoke to at a breakfast social event during the scholarship schmoozing weekend. We had a pleasant conversation then and I rather like how he runs his class–no powerpoint, lots of questions, geeky sense of humor. I do want to take him to a tailor and stylist, though. He’s not much older than I but his belt is already riding way too high–in that George McFly kind of way. He could use lessons in dressing from Professor Barton. :-) 

I’m nervous about Contracts today because my prof wrote the book. That will either make the class great or terrible. CivPro I’m also a bit wary about because we had an assignment that I’m none to confident about. We had to write an outline about how we would help a client who had been in an accident. As our reading only covered a tiny smidge about jurisdiction and the roles of client and counsel, I didn’t feel like I had much to offer. I don’t like starting off on a bad foot, so I’m uncomfortable. We’ll see…

Today was my last day of Intro to Legal Studies. We had to write a brief “essay” (much like an exam answer) in the legal writing class, and we had a one essay question “exam” (on adverse possession, which, for you non-legal folk, has nothing to do with head spinning and pea soup) in the legal analysis part. I’m confident I did well enough on both of them, but I actually felt better on the exam than the other. Go fig.

Now the real, substantive courses begin. Tomorrow I have Legal Skills 1 and Property 1. I’ve done my reading for both, and briefed the John Marshall-written Johnson v M’Intosh (yes, M’, not Mc). I even did some online research to make sure I understood that case (it’s from 1823 so the language is particularly obscure in places). I have my notebooks, folders, pens and highlighters, but still my old iBook (just killing me to wait to get a new one) and my old backpack (I need to get a rolling one–these books are HUGE). So, I’m ready… enough. 

Prepping for this moment, even with all the practice I had in the Summer Enrichment class and the Intro to Legal Studies, brought a new set of feelings. First, I have to say that it feels like a crime to write in the casebooks. They cost $140+ each, and the first time I laid highlighter to the page, I felt terrible. I’m sure I’ll get past it, but it bugs me. 

On a bigger level, taking the plastic wrap off the Property casebook (the first unwrapped) brought home the fact that I’m accepting the commitment to this. By slicing into that plastic, I was taking the final step of leaving the life I’ve known, and immersing myself into this new world. 

It’s a different world. It’s got new rules and customs, new geography and, clearly, a different language. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and I’m sure it will be thoroughly confusing at times.

I so hope I’m up to the task of learning its ways.

I mentioned before about the great bus pass deal. Unfortunately, the pass isn’t good until September so I have a week of trying alternatives. It’s $5 round-trip by bus without the pass so that would be almost half the cost of a pass in one week’s riding. Today I decided to drive. I had to get to campus very early to find street parking, and it’s still a bit of a walk. Not too far, but it will be uphill this afternoon in the heat. Ick. I even brought my computer with me, to get a feel for the heft of hauling it with me, and to do some work during my break between classes–that means carrying it as well, uphill.

I may have to get a bag with wheels, I think. I’m not even carrying any of the heavy books and my bag is full and weighs a big plenty. While the walk from the bus isn’t far, it will be much easier with a wheeled bag. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen one I like aesthetically and when I do (if I do), I bet it’ll be more expensive than the cheesy Staples ones.

More money to spend. Eeek.

Anyway, so here sit in The Castetter Courtyard (named for a former dean of the school–his plaque includes the somewhat curious in this context quote “Every day is a good day, but some days are better than others”), not studying, which is what I should be doing, I’m sure. I’m prepared for today and have done a bit of reading ahead already. I’d like to get more out of the way, though. I figure the more I can get done in advance, the better, since I know I’ll hit a wall sooner or later. This way I’ll have a bit more time flexibility over the trimester. Or at least that’s my theory. 

I guess that means I’d better get to reading.

My afternoon session is taught by Professor Barton. He was the professor I saw “in action” during my Trustees’ Scholar visit, teaching Civil Procedure and talking about issue preclusion. I liked him then, and I still do.

He’s an interesting figure. He looks nothing like his picture on the school’s website, but there he has a beard (none now) and is wearing a dark suit. I’ve seen him several times on campus and I’ve never seen him in a dark suit. Yesterday, he was wearing a fabulously natty green seersucker, for example, that he had clearly had tailored as it fit his small frame exactly as it should. So many attorneys are rather poor dressers but he seems to be an exception. 

As I mentioned, he is a physically small man–a bit shorter than I–fine-boned and slim. But using the word “dainty” would be entirely inappropriate as he’s not effeminate at all. In demeanor, he reminds me pleasantly of a very intellectual Mr. Rogers–kind, helpful, and wicked smart. There is something almost “southern gentleman” about him (maybe from his Tulane days?), but without the subtle sexism that usually comes with that attitude. He’s gentle, but determined–he clearly wants us to do well, doesn’t want to make things harder than they have to be, but at the same time obviously expects us to work hard and won’t be a pushover. 

I share all of this because I want you to have a clear image of the sort of compassionate-yet-frank man I think he is. That way you will understand the following story all the better.

At the start of his class yesterday, we all had to introduce ourselves. We were to say our names, where and what we had previously studied, and where we were from, and we were given the option to share one of our first trimester goals with the others students (writing the goals had been an assignment). After each person spoke, Prof. Barton usually said “Thank you” and occasionally made a comment. For example, after I spoke he said “I’d welcome you in French, but I don’t speak the language…it’s something like ben-venu?”

You get the picture.

When he got to the back of the room, a young lady introduced herself and offered to share one of her goals. With nervous laughter she said “I want to make two As in my first trimester.” Professor Barton responded, “Interesting and admirable goal… statistically improbable, though.” He went on to say that it wasn’t anything against her–it was just that the chances for any student to get more than one A in her/his first trimester was statistically unlikely. 

Coming from him, that depressed the hell out of me.