Please, can I have a hug?
The day before the bar, I intended to take a few moments to write about the impending doom that has kept me from falling asleep at night this last week or so and apologize to my family and friends for being such a testy, irritable sot the last two months. Alas, someone beat me to it and explained everything much better than I ever could. The full post is available here and is worth reading if you have the time. If not, here are a few salient highlights:
To set the scene:
I am not a panicker. I never have been. I’m a major proponent of the Seriously Just Chill The Hell Out school of major life event prep, and I’ve been known on more than one occasion to tell 1Ls, OLs, and everyone else who will listen that they need to stop taking life quite so seriously. But right now? I’m panicking.
The reason?
$100,000 ... and three years later, this is the test that will determine whether we actually get to be a lawyer.
The pressure is enormously high:
Nothing [in law school] actually prepare[s] you for this exam. So here, in this 2 1/2 month timeline, you must cram everything there is to know about this state’s law into your head, and hope that most of it sticks come exam time. It’s an extraordinary amount of pressure, akin to nothing else I have done in life.
We fear the horror of having to repeat this dreadful experience:
I’m not nice. But this experience? It’s so miserable, I don’t even have the heart to wish it on someone else.
Failure is spectacularly public:
Unlike the LSAT, you can’t hide out, and pretend that your score wasn’t totally shameful, or that you aren’t studying for the test, or that you didn’t really care. You do care. Unless you live in a cave, everyone knows that you’re studying for an exam, because you look haggard, miserable, and short tempered, and they never see you anymore. The list of bar passers is publicly posted. So, when the final results come out ..., and your name isn’t on that very public list, everyone knows.
If you fail, there is no way to really feel good about it:
You can’t even claim that you just got desperately ill halfway through and couldn’t finish, because Jan Honisberg has been telling us BarBri kids all summer about all the appendicitis-ridden, in labor, concussed bar-takers who have taken the exam and passed. This, ultimately means that not only are you a failure: you’re less competent than a concussed person. Fantastic.
Telling me “you’ll pass the test” really doesn’t help. Really.
The specter of failing is just as real, and just as terrifying, as a child who’s been left at a grocery store, convinced he’s alone for good. No, your parents haven’t left you forever, and no, you may be right. We may pass. But in this moment, we feel alone, and overwhelmed, and totally terrified ... We don’t need assurances that we’ll pass, we need your help to mitigate the crazy. We’re looking for damage control. Tell us you understand how we’re feeling, and you think we’re smart. Give us a hug.
So, if you see me between now and Thursday, please accept my apology for my horrid behavior the last few weeks, and please, can I have a hug and a prayer?
