For the first time in my life, last year I chose classes designed to make me more marketable. Let's review - I was a Classics major, and minored in Music Performance. On bassoon. I had no particular employment goal in mind when I took Species Counterpoint during my sophomore fall, nor Ancient and Medieval Political Theory as a senior. I wasn't thinking about jobs when I took The Old English Period as a Junior, and may not even have had more than a vague idea of what I would do upon graduation while taking Roman Law during Senior Spring. This went for graduate school too. Let's put aside the fact that I went to graduate school and discuss the fact that I completed options in "Athenian Democracy in the Classical Age" and "Greek Religion" instead. Employment may not have been high on my list of priorities.

But last year, I ended up in Transnational Law, Enterprise Organization, Trusts & Estates I, and Jurisdiction. I looked to classes that would assist me in my quest for gainful employment. And while I also took a seminar last semester called "The Uncensored History of International Law" and one this semester entitled "Select Topics in Federal Jurisdiction," the fact remains that law school is designed to poop you out on the far side of three years with you at a more employable state than when you went in. Two years in and the cynical part of me thinks that's why I'm here - for a professional degree that will unlock a world of job openings. Perhaps my timing could have been better...

But there's an odd practice for most of our seminars here at Michigan where you petition the professor to admit you to his or her class by writing a general statement of interest. These seemingly uncontroversial statements actually cut to the heart of why we came to law school - nevermind the fact that seminars are among the more specialized (and therefore interesting) classes that one might take in law school - seminars are about amplifying and tackling the small but important wrinkles in law: Disability Law, Presidential Power, Good Life/Government, and The Impact of Human Rights on International Law are all being offered next semester. They are not about unlocking membership to a world of job openings.

So when I was writing my statements of interest to get into Good Life/Government, Law & Philosophy, I was transported back to why I was interested in law in the first place. Good Life/Government reminded me of my Junior Year research paper on Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound, which continues to challenge traditional notions of political power and authority. As for my statement for Law & Philosophy, I reproduce an excerpt here:

"Very few of the folks here at Michigan Law School are getting into the law because they're fascinated by Regulations, Uniform Laws or Model Codes. We're motivated by a desire for justice, a sense of right and wrong made in the laws of the nation and of the several states. However, through our time here, we have that fascination beaten out of us slowly by the Federal Tax Code, the case method, the Bluebook, the turgid language of the UN Charter, the impenetrability of Law & Economics, and others. This is a course in which I think I might be able to rediscover (and, indeed, evaluate for naive tendencies) why it was that I came to law school. Most of my law school interests lie outside of doctrinal classes. Legal history and legal philosophy were the two points that brought me to law school, and while I might end up in a job in which neither of those things matter terribly much on a daily basis, I definitely want to study them next semester."

Just in writing those two statements of interest, I reconnected for a brief moment with why I came to law school. I went back and reread my fresh-faced and somewhat naive personal statement and wondered at what on earth Sarah Zearfoss might have seen. I also caught a typo. Oops. I guess what I'm trying to say is this: take a seminar - one that challenges your expectations and your assumptions and has absolutely freaking nothing to do with your intended professional track. Take it because it's appealing, take it because the professor has the reputation for being a genius or insane, take it because it sounds fun. I've taken two such seminars and am enrolled in a third (sadly, neither one will be Law & Philosophy or Good Life / Government - I'll be in the Legal History Workshop), and I can say right now that they're among the best classes I've taken. I was prepared with the prerequisites to neither, and they forced me to grow academically and intellectually. I felt woefully outgunned intellectually, and I learned to hold my own. And besides learning an incredible amount, I can also say that I was blessed to reconnect once a week with why I came to law school. I can think of no better reason to take a seminar, here at Michigan or (I know this is an admissions blog, so perhaps I have readers who stumble in while considering other schools) wherever you go.

That was a long posting. Apologies for keeping that pent up inside for two months. The semester has ended, and I'm sitting in Boston preparing for my summer job in Anchorage, Alaska. Updates from the extreme Pacific Northwest will come, though at what intervals remains to be seen. Thanks for stopping by.

I write this not to emphasize how far away student parking is from campus (though it is), but to emphasize how easy it is to fall into mindless routine. There’s been a lot of talk of zombies lately: NPR defined “zombie bank” yesterday morning as part of its economic coverage, and news of the upcoming publication of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies has been making waves. I’m totally not joking about that last one. So mindlessness has been paradoxically on the mind of late.

We’re about to leave on what we in Michigan laughably call “Spring Break” in two days. I’d like to emphasize that current temperatures in Ann Arbor are 39° F. On Friday, when break starts, it will be 27°. I’m just sayin’. So we’re about to leave, and none too soon, I have to say. It’s been a pretty rough semester, what with layoffs all around, and job woes seeping into our collective consciousness. It’s also been personally challenging at times – I’ve never really been weather depressive (as a New Englander, I feel that Puritan ethic telling me to stop complaining and get back to work) but the toll of waking before the sun rises and getting home after the sun sets is starting to become very burdensome. I’m afraid I’m painting a really bleak picture of law school, and I don’t mean to. There have indeed been triumphs as well.

I’m taking a mini-seminar on Legal Education with Prof. Krier, which meets at his house. It’s been fascinating to me since, as a former educator, I am particularly attuned to the expectations of teachers and professors. I particularly enjoy our no-holds-barred discussions. Speaking of discussions, a little under a month ago, the Michigan Journal of International Law held a symposium and invited participants from around the world to participate. As befits our name and our mission, we had papers from practitioners and professors in the UK, Germany, Australia, Canada, and the United States, and debate around the dinner tables was extremely lively. Finally, we had a breakfast hosted by the Office of Development and Alumni Relations that kicked off the law school’s year-long 150th birthday celebration, which really did remind us all both of the long and illustrious heritage of Michigan as well as the importance of a well-balanced start to the day.

But these are sporadic. The symposium was a one-off event. So was the breakfast. The mini-seminar meets some weeks but not others – they are special occasions. As for the routine, it can get very, well, routine, and it’s been tough not to start feeling like a zombie recently. I hope that the upcoming break will provide an occasion for all of us to relax and recharge. Lord knows we need it, and I like to think we’ve all earned it too.

I took English Legal History with him last year and the Uncensored History of International Law with him this year. He is the quintessential British lecturer, with perfect received pronunciation and a habit of meandering from topic to topic with a clarity of purpose at turns obvious and obscure. He never created any hypotheticals in our classes - the truth was always much more interesting and bizarre, and his own academic career spans back far enough that he spoke of English Legal History largely as a man who had lived through the last vestiges of the old days before reform swept across the land. A perfect Briton, he ran his seminar on the Uncensored History of International Law with a watchful, cynical, and cautiously nostalgic eye toward the legacy of the British Empire. This was a legacy that he lived as well - his parents had served as Anglican missionaries in Fujian, and were active in the area at the same time my grandparents and great-grandparents lived there. I made it a point to chat with him outside of class, and he always responded not only graciously, but with enthusiasm for his students. He has been a favorite of students since he began at Michigan, and Michigan alumni who see his name on my resume instantly ask of him, if only to send him their regards via me.

A friend of mine from Oxford wrote me one day last January to ask "is AWB Simpson, the great legal historian, at your law faculty?" I replied not only that he was, but that I had been in class with him two days earlier as he lectured on King Ethelbert of Kent. My friend's response, "Mate, that guy is a legend," coupled with a citation to a 1959 article of the Law Quarterly Review, struck me that Prof. Simpson's reputation was both vast and well-deserved.

I approached him last May with a suggestion for some summer research and he hired me a few days later for the summer. I have continued as his research assistant through this semester and will for the next, as he will technically remain on the faculty even though he will have already moved back to England. It won't be the same without him here, and I will miss him dearly.

So he taught his last class today from 1:30 to 2:25, a 1L lecture on property that was, to some, shockingly subdued given Prof. Simpson's penchant for mirth and merriment. I prefer to think that even in his final hour of teaching, Prof. Simpson wanted to arm his students with the necessary review material to tackle the exam rather than indulge his own ego. 10 minutes to the end of class, the assembled faculty of the school, a veritable brain trust of greats, descended upon his lecture hall to pay tribute to their colleague as he wrapped up a career that started in the 1950s. It's the second-to-last day of the academic teaching year, it's cold, it's snowing, and I can't imagine that professors would want to stay at the school any longer than they have to: and yet there they were at 2:15 on a Thursday. As he turned his attention from the cases and rules to his students, he paused to give them some advice on practicing law with honor and dignity. And as he concluded, the faculty, standing around the backs of 250 Hutchins Hall, his students, and a few observers (such as myself), rose up to applaud him as he took his leave. It was one of the most touching things I've ever seen. Godspeed, and good luck.

We're 11 days from the start of exam season, and already, people are starting to panic. Law Open, the repository for all things both serious and otherwise here at the law school, is filling up with variations on the old theme of requesting outlines or the brisk second- or third-hand trade in study guides. Familiarity is what makes it predictable, but the variations that people try to put on their postings are what make them interesting. Of course, Ann Arbor is covered in a beautiful white substance that one of my Californian friends described as "someone spilled a humongous pina colada slurpee." December, starting tomorrow, will truly be upon us.

Yet another sign that December approaches made itself abundantly clear at about 8 today. I got back into Detroit Metropolitan Airport this evening and Christmas music was already playing in the van that drove me out to my car. I know a lot of people like Christmas music, or don't mind it, but I have a particular susceptibility. Ever since 1997, I have been a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra's Tanglewood Festival Chorus, and every year in December, I sing the Holiday Shows with the Boston Pops. It's a great gig - fabulous music, fantastic people, and a real sense of community. But it also means that, unlike people who only have to endure snippets of Christmas songs as they roam through malls with other things on their mind, bad covers of bad holiday music becomes my life between now and December 25th. As a musical traditionalist (my girlfriend would say snob), I am unimpressed with weird covers of classic songs. Over Thanksgiving, my father and I watched the opening of the Dallas - Seattle game, including the National Anthem. Both of us were perturbed by the "artistic license" taken by the singer. Look, I certainly don't begrudge people who love the Hallelujah Chorus with a backbeat and guitars. I'm just saying that an iPod with personal headphones is an *amazing* invention.

Speaking of which, my iPod is about to get its biannual workout in the exam period - every time I have a lot of work to do, I crank my iPod to breaking point and play calming music. Which means that on the way to and from school, I play mindless songs that clear my brain. Monopolizing my playlist schedules are themes and variations. Bach's Goldberg Variations have long held my fascination - they're short and episodic, not to mention harmonically predictable. I have four versions of this on my iPod, and each one will get a listen. I also happen to enjoy a lot of the ancient masses built upon themes, like the Missa "L'Homme armé" by Ludwig Senfl or the Missa "Pange lingua" by Josquin des Prés. Sometimes writing a musical variation with nuance and brilliance is harder than writing something brand new - faithfulness to the original is in constant tension with the urge to innovate. One of my favorites is Vaughn Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis, the original of which is part of Tallis' collection of tunes for the psalter of Archbishop Matthew Parker (1504 - 1575). It's amazing.

Last week, I made bits of a Thanksgiving Dinner for the Phid House and the Christian Legal Society. My first time cooking the Thanksgiving turkey (turkeys, actually - two of 'em) and I went online to find a decent recipe. The number of variations was staggering: turkey is considered pretty boring, so we get things like smoked turkey, deep fried turkey, turkey roulade, turkey meatloaf, chinese lacquered turkey, and even turkey sushi. Stuffing? How about traditional sage and celery? Oyster stuffing? I found a repulsive-sounding recipe for stuffing made from White Castle Sliders. And just like that White Castle monstrosity, some variations are humorous in their repulsiveness. For the past two weeks, I've had stuck in my head, South Park's Eric Cartman's cover of Styx's Come Sail Away. That's actually been juxtaposed with Brian Evans' swing-band-styled cover of Van Halen's Jump. I urge you to find both of those on Youtube or iTunes - they're both delightful in their sheer bad taste.

And with that, I'm out. I think my mental peregrinations have caused enough damage this month. Until next time, stay warm!

But at Michigan, Sartre finds his match. The discussion threads of Michigan's own lawopen listserve, unfairly maligned online in recent weeks, is a marketplace buzzing with advice and commerce. I've sent mail to lawopen four times, and each time, I've gotten a helpful response in mere moments. One student offered baked goods for outlines. Others do brisk trade in football tickets to take advantage of 2Ls off on callback interviews. And hardly a day goes by when someone doesn't email me to offer me a free lunch and an interesting speaker.

I served as an orientation leader for the incoming 1L class, and I have found them to be engaging, brilliant, fun, carefree (that might change), and friendly. So have they. Among the statements overheard multiple times around the Law Quad during orientation week was that Dean Zearfoss was a genius for selecting such cool classmates. Returning classes feel it - that's why we sign up for things like tour guiding and orientation leading. Alumni know it too - when a law firm associate tried to explain how friendly the people in his firm are, he compared it to his experiences as a Michigan Law student.

My classmates and I go to lunch together. We make midday chocolate chip pancake runs. We play frisbee on the quad. We take notes for each other when we're out of town on callback interviews. We wish each other good luck during interviews we're both headed into - and mean it. We make each other cookies. We visit each other over the summer, form teams for trivia night, compare notes and outlines on professors, and help each other gather sources for journals. In short, hell isn't other people. Hell is trying to get through law school without these people. My college roommate gave me the advice that - law school is hard enough without everyone trying to be horrible to each other. For me, law school would be that much harder without everyone around me helping each other out.

---

Just as a side note, I'm taking five classes this semester and am loving all of them. Chapter 11 Bankruptcy couldn't be more appropriate, and our professor has serious street cred during interviews. Tax Law is the dark horse for favorite class of the semester. It's surprisingly entertaining. Enterprise Organizations is a phenomenally interesting subject, and the material makes a great read. Labor Law hasn't started yet - I'll be sure to let you all know how it is when it does. Finally, a seminar called The Uncensored History of International Law has been the icing on this cake for three weeks. I can't tell you how much fun it's been.

The law quadrangle is a cohesive architectural cluster in the collegiate gothic style most associated with institutions such as Yale and Princeton, and copied from the august traditions of Oxford and Cambridge. The law library was named 94th on a list of American's Favorite Buildings by the American Institute of Architects in 2007. If you've ever seen an old English cathedral, the focal point of the grounds (the Cathedral Building) is our reading room, while Hutchins Hall (lecture halls and some faculty offices) would be the cloisters. The rest of the quadrangle comprises dormitory space, and is analogous to the cathedral close. During a broadcast of A Prarie Home Companion from Ann Arbor earlier this summer, Garrison Keillor opined that "this beautiful cathedral with leaded casement windows and lamp light ... just made you want to go to law school, actually."

Now, in August of 1981, the Allen and Alene Smith Addition to the Legal Research Building opened underground. Underground indeed. Because the 1955 above-ground library stacks building, with its aluminum siding and cardboard box-like shape, was viewed by many faculty, staff, alumni, and students as an insult to the limestone and granite gothic majesty of the law quadrangle, the library addition of 1981 was to open underground, lest it fail to blend in. The Smith Addition houses some of the most comprehensive international law resources in America, two great computer labs, some very helpful librarians, and a fantastic skylight system that means that even three stories down, students do not lack for natural light (or, at least, no less than their weather-depressive above-ground counterparts). Its magnificence and fire, like that of Lucius Junius Brutus, is carefully hidden, probably due to a very Midwestern modesty.

My summer job has comprised researching various projects for two professors. Much of what I do can be done off-site, and I have been at liberty to travel this summer to maintain my social schedule of weddings, graduations, etc. Thus, I have had the great privilege of visiting other law schools' libraries and playing in their sandboxes so to speak. In particular, I have gained entrance into Harvard Law, Georgetown Law, and even the Law Reading Room of the Library of Congress. Harvard's library has an airy and light neoclassical reading room with lots of dark wood to play off of the cream-colored walls. I particularly liked the very cushy armchairs, floor to ceiling windows, and trite Ciceronian tidbits on the walls. Georgetown's library is built around a huge circular atrium that is capped by a round lounge. The reading room is a beautifully red-carpeted shoebox filled with tables packed into tight rows. While Harvard exuded a sort of rarified luxury, flair, and ease (when will tea be served?), the air at Georgetown hung heavy with panic, probably from students cramming for the bar.

When the Smith Addition opened, the New York Times ran a profile of the library which turned into a psychoanalysis of the law school itself. "The new building," they wrote, "seems particularly well suited to this institution, which, though it has shed much of its conservatism, is still reluctant to flaunt its brilliance." That's exactly how I feel about Michigan. Of course, I too am having a hard time distilling down the Michigan Law experience myself - so come visit. I'm an admissions tour guide and would be more than happy to show you around.

In the exam run-up, I got a coupon for 40% off at Barnes & Noble and went on a mini-spree to fill in the gaps in my collection. I came home with Robert Shaw and the Atlanta Symphony's recording of Verdi's Requiem, Jascha Heifetz's recording of Bach, Mozart, and Brahms Double Concertos, the Durufle Requiem conducted by Michel Corboz (mistake - his tempos are too fast), and The Tallis Scholars with four Renaissance Requiems: Tomas Luis de Victoria, Duarte Lobo, Manuel Cardoso, and Alonso Lobo. It wasn't until I got home that I realized I'd purchased three CDs of masses for the dead, and it occurred to me that perhaps these were not the best choice heading into exams.

But exam period came and went. I was part of a study group, and getting involved in one is one of the larger pieces of advice I'd give to incoming students. No man is an island, accountability, etc. All of those are good reasons for being in a group. My reason is a little more selfish - sometimes members of your group bring food, and sometimes it's really good food, like Twizzlers and Goldfish. Incidentally, I think Law School numbs your taste buds (or really, it could be that coming to Michigan does).

Now I'm starting my summer research projects (I'm working for two professors - one in the Law School and one in the Business School) and it's proving to be really interesting stuff. The weather in Ann Arbor got gorgeous just in time for exams, and without the undergrads here in the summer, the parking situation has improved immeasurably. Last week, I threw a dinner party for some of my law school friends with a huge menu: cold wine-poached chicken breasts, steamed whole mackerel, steamed asparagus with miso butter, vegetarian pan-fried noodles, miso-chili crusted pork chops, spicy garlic shrimp, soy-braised eggplant, and chinese broccoli. It was everything I wanted to cook during exams but couldn't muster the energy or time for. Surprisingly, we did manage to talk about non-law topics for a full 15 minutes before breaking back into insufferable law-student mode. I'd love to talk to my friends now and get their feedback on what a nerd I sound like now.

Late in the semester (and today is the last day of classes, yes), I saw increasing numbers of 1L students using air-quotes around the term "justice". I've caught myself doing it a couple of times. I guess it signals some of my dissatisfaction with the way some courts handle wanting to be fair instead of applying the rules strictly to the letter. Paradoxically, fairness does not mean justice, and vice-versa. Plenty of folks in my Contracts class have objected to a court's verdict with "but that doesn't seem fair!" In talking to my non-law student friends sometimes I fear that they look at my studies as a sophistic exchange on par with Aristophanes' Clouds: that I came to law school in order to argue that up is down, that the greater power is the lesser, and that the natural and fair order of the universe can be argued to be upside-down. The judgment-proof but liable defendant incurs no actual liability because his plaintiff can't collect against him: you can't squeeze water from stone. And there are some weird cases like the Alcoa debacle in which the court inexplicably rules for what is near- universally held to be the weaker case. But in the broader picture, coming to grips with some of the broader themes of law school has meant reevaluating my sense not of right and wrong, but of inherent fairness. After all, the losing side in a civil trial decision that I agree with won't likely be comforted by the fact that "it was a fair decision." They think they lost, they think it sucks, and they don't think it was fair, and no reasoning with them on the part of their counsel, the judge, or the guy on the street will make them feel better about it.

In less than three weeks, my friends will scatter for the summer. They're going to work in public defender's offices, IP litigation houses, child advocacy centers, judges' chambers, the department of justice, gay legal defense groups, and health care privacy advocates. Some, like me, will be around Ann Arbor (and I'll be posting over the summer, so check in every so often), others will be in London, San Francisco, Washington, Boston, Atlanta, and Des Moines. We may come out of 1L year with an academically cynical outlook on what "justice" is, but I doubt that any of my friends will be so cynical after some time those aforementioned jobs. After all, law school, in broad terms, can be as bewildering as Aristophanes would have us believe Socrates' 'Thinkery' was. It occurs to me that this might be one of the only times that life outside of school will leave me less cynical than life inside school. But that might just be final exams talking. Wish me luck!

• Hutchins Hall gets hot. Bring breathable clothing.

• Sandals are for warmer and less muddy climates. Bring boots. They may not be sexy, but neither is having wet socks.

• No, you're not going to die of boredom in Ann Arbor. But if you want to, bring a good book: it'll be nice to look at it when it's gathering dust on your shelf while you read Civil Procedure.

• A favorite lunch for some is Big Ten Burrito, which is Mexican food done Michigan style. What's Michigan style? Let's put it this way: Michigan looks south onto Canada, a country not known for its tolerance of spicy cuisine.

• With a car and a total lack of decency, a half-hour of walking around Wholefoods in Ann Arbor makes a satisfying and remarkably affordable lunch out.

• I don't care what anyone else thinks: the sangria at Dominick's should have more fruit in it.

• Michigan Football Season Tickets are a good investment.

• If you wear glasses, don't play solitaire on your computer during class. The professor can totally see the green reflected in your glasses.

• Michigan Law School actually does have videoconferencing facilities. And yes, doing a job interview by videoconference is cool. And sometimes awkward. But mainly cool.

• You can get free pizza before hearing concerts on campus such as the San Francisco Symphony through the Arts & Eats program of the University Music Society.

• The potholes in Ann Arbor could double as clambake pits.

• Textbooks make lousy pillows. Luckily there are enough coffee outlets in and around the Law Quad to stave off that pending nap.

• Celebrating pi day (today) is significantly less geeky than celebrating mole day.

Kind of went off the rails on that last one. Nonetheless, it's true. Happy pi day, everyone.

I thought perhaps Spring Break would be the right time to kick this blog off right. I've been filled with school spirit lately, and perhaps it's because I'm not *in* Michigan at the moment. Not that I don't love the old Maize and Blue during term, but sometimes absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

I've been interviewing students for Princeton, my humble undergraduate alma mater, and I think it's a pretty sweet gig. I sit and talk to aspiring young Michiganders for an hour or so and get to reminisce while they look at me like I have the keys to their admission in my back pocket. Of course, I don't, but that doesn't stop them from referring to me as "Prof. Wang", which cracked me up.

I also went to visit a few friends of mine from my grad student days in England, and have been fielding emails from former Keble members each day. I loved Oxford, and there's not a day that I walk through the Law School reading room and see Oxford's seal that I don't smile.

As for Michigan, I love it here. Perhaps it's the snow, perhaps it's the cold, but it always seems to sparkle more when I'm several hundred miles away. I was in New York last Friday during a slush and salt-fest that ruined a great pair of shoes when I realized that as bad as Ann Arbor can get in the snow, it never gets sloppy. And yes, Ann Arbor looks magnificent in the snow. Moreover, the quad looks unbelievable. Email me - I've got pictures to back it up.

I'd like to think that this blog is going to be a repository for all of the things I'm thinking over the course of the next few weeks (and maybe into the following year, if I don't annoy too many people?) and I want it to be a reasonably uncensored view of the law school: not only of the academics, but also the foibles of the students, the basic human drama that unfolds in Hutchins Hall every time someone opens their mouth to match wits with a professor employing the Socratic Method.

By manner of introduction, my name is Joe. I am psyched to be at law school because it's the most practical thing I've ever done: I majored in Classics as an undergraduate, my backup minor to fall back upon was Music Performance. I went to England for a Master's Degree, also in Classics. Law School, therefore, has been a mind trip like I've never experienced. I've loved it, I've hated parts of it, and I've blown a good chunk of time since I was supposed to be reading. So, back to the books I go.