Week Two, Part 5 - Scared Spitless

Dean Link’s pointers about law school have me worried. If it takes 60 hours a week to succeed, I’m at least 10 to 20 short.

During the day I’m fine. The 1L schedule allows for two or three hours between classes. Usually that’s enough time to get familiar with the cases, though I’m scared spitless at the thought of being called on.

In the evenings I want to study more, but have been unsuccessful. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t lend Terri a hand getting supper ready and cleaning up. At AT&T, her job has both the technical challenges of telecom and the pressure of a sales quota. And when long distance service goes down on a big account, the stress is seismic.

Stephanie and Lauren, ages 7 and 5, need attention. Usually Terri does school work with Steph while I help Lauren on her piano lesson. Then we switch. Terri does piano with Steph, and I read to Lauren. If all goes well, Terri and I squeeze in a walk around the block. About 9:30, we put the girls to bed.

After that I try to study. Twice in the last week I haven’t made it to bed, falling asleep on the couch instead. At 5:00 a.m. I wake up, disorientated, casebook still on my chest like a blanket.

On Wednesday I stop by the announcement board, more out of habit than interest. The female student next to me is reading the 2L notices. She’s wearing blue jeans and a cotton top. There’s a wedding ring on her finger and she looks about my age.

I say hello and introduce myself.

Her name is Mary Wiggins. Before coming to Notre Dame Law School, she was an engineer at Hewlett-Packard.

I ask where she did undergrad.

“Northern Arizona University.”

I shake my head, unfamiliar with it.

"It was real small for a state school, about 15,000. Maybe a thousand in my major."

I tell her how when Terri was interviewing Notre Dame students for AT&T, the common refrain was "I started out in engineering but switched to marketing."

Mary laughs. “It happens everywhere. At NAU we would parody the calculus formula for area under a curve. Instead of ‘the limit of x as it approaches zero is y,’ we’d say, ‘the limit of an engineering GPA as it approaches zero is a marketing degree.’”

“That’s good,” I say.

“And ‘the limit of a marketing major's GPA as it approaches zero is an education degree.’"

“Hey, watch it! I used to be a teacher.” I tell Mary how I moved to South Bend when I got married. And I mention that it’s hard finding study time.

“Can’t do it at home,” she says. “You’re always gonna be interrupted.” Her tone is matter of fact, like an engineer.

“But I think I’d feel guilty if...”

“Nope. Can’t feel bad about it.” She turns to leave. “And one more thing about being married during law school.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You won't need birth control anymore."

* * *