Knowing that the 1L’s are by far the largest growth sector when it comes to targeting law school audiences, and still clinging to the hope that I’ll have converted BUFFALOWINGS&VODKA into a paysite by January (30 webcams, 200 live feeds, subscriber-only features like “Who I Groped at Lunch Today”, and, for those interested in the Gold Membership, a personalized workout video), I thought it prudent that I spend a few hours of my day getting in touch with the first-year law students. So I took a copy of the new Victoria’s Secret Christmas Catalog up to the 5th floor of the library, and plunked down on a couch. As I sat there, among the flashcards, the legal pads, the speedballs, the outlines, I realized what it was that I missed so much from my 1L year: My Study Group.
Now that we’re no longer forced into the same classes, the members of my study group and I have gone our separate ways. Or, rather, they’ve all gone one way and left me behind. I know that it’s my fault for taking ridiculous classes that nobody will ever make practical use of (Door Law), and having absurd scheduling demands (only being able to meet one-on-one and in small confined spaces with no escape routes), but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. My study group embodied everything that was good about last year, and now that good is gone.
Last year at this time, we probably would have met in a cozy little coffee house, or perhaps at a neighborhood cheese shop. I would have brought my signature bran muffins and some hand-knit scarves for everyone in the group, and they would have repaid me with a bag of my favorite bath beads, or maybe the votive candles I’d pining after for weeks. We’d spend hour after hour, gossiping about law school romances, braiding each other’s hair, and stopping only once in a while to clear up someone’s confusion about a case or statute. Because we knew on a subconscious level then what I have only just come to terms with now: That law school isn’t about the grades—it’s about the people you mooch off of to get those grades.
Alas, as I sit here, writing my own flashcards without the benefit of a study partner’s outline, and having to learn material from a hornbook instead of bumming a study partner’s notes, I try not to dwell too long on the good times, choosing instead to shake out my tear-stained notes, crack open my casebook for the very first time, and soldier on through the darkness of second year…alone.