Week Eight, Part 5 - Honor Code

After class I walk to the student lounge and find a seat in the corner. To my left is a fellow 1L, Bryan Lord, typing away on a laptop. There’s a green apple wedged in his mouth, like a roasted pig.

Byran grew up in Minnesota and attended college there, just as I did. He graduated from Concordia College in St. Paul with a degree in poly-sci and business administration.

To my right, two upperclassman discuss life after Notre Dame Law School. I overhear the first one say, “It’s like autopilot. Corporate law requires no ability to research or think. ”

His friend answers, “But you pay for it by having to sit on airplanes with some jackass CEO who’s all about how-good-do-I-look.”

After only eight weeks of law school, Bryan and I have a more immediate concern: the mock mid-term. Between bites of food and glances at the Observer, we rant about how little time there is to prepare. I tell Byran my game plan is simple. A quick-and-dirty outline in Contracts, since the test is open-book. In Torts, I’m gonna ignore negligence and simply memorize the elements of each intentional tort. Crim will get the longest look. I plan to learn the major, legal principle for each significant case. As for Civil Procedure, a disaster from Day One, I’m not sure what to do. The subject matter has me flat on my back.

Our teaching assistant from Legal Writing, a 3L named Rosi Lozada, stops by to tell us she sent our memos back via campus mail. Rosi is considered by all to be a higher order being. She’s not only brilliant and beautiful, but kind as well. Last year Rosi declined an invitation to join Law Review, Notre Dame’s most prestigious journal, so she could devote sufficient time to the Legal Aid Clinic.

We ask her about the mock mid-terms.

She says, “Let me warn you, exams are nothing like class prep. That's just the way it is. Don't rely on hand-me-down outlines. Do your own by reducing everything to a form you can study. Look at old exams to find out what your prof wants. For Rice, ‘the law’s the law,’ so make flashcards and memorize it.”

Bryan asks Rosi why we can’t use laptops to type our answers. He argues we’d be able to give more information in a better, more readable form.

I nod.

Rosi says the administration is afraid students would access their notes during the exam. “There’s not enough control over the process,” she says. “And not everyone has computers.”

Brian seems a little peeved. “We’re supposed to be on an honor code, but there's a limit to how much they trust us.”

I pack up to leave. Beside me, the upperclassmen are still deliberating.

“Even in a corporate setting, law means you are good,” says one.

“But also that you’re somebody’s bitch,” answers the other.

“Know what?” the first one says, “That’s a very Christian thing to do: to give of yourself.”

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