Law School Dad

Just in case any of you thought I was exaggerating the cost of Yeshiva education here in the tri-state area, allow me to break it down for you. Following are the fees and charges for preschoolers for the 2005-6 school year at Yavneh Academy in Paramus, NJ: (By the way, I'm not deliberately picking on Yavneh, it's no more or less outrageously expensive than any other Jewish day school in the vicinity.) Tuition: $10,050 "Family obligation": $500 Scrip obligation: this latest "innovative" fundraising technique requires each family to either purchase $6000 in scrip redeemable at local shops; or opt out by paying another $330. Building Fund: $1200. Registration fee: $550. Hot lunch plan: $500.  At the Open House, the school recruiter cheerfully pointed out that by the time we put 3 kids through her fine institution, we'll have probably outlaid more than we spent on our house. Happy days! -LSD

It's school recruitment season, and Sandra and I are attending our first elementary school open house tonight. Open houses are where fabulously expensive Yeshiva day schools compete for the opportunity to educate your little darlings in the ways of Torah, Israel, and standardised testing, in exchange for your committment to outlaying something akin to the GDP of a small South Pacific island nation over the next nine years.

Now where did I put that home schooling brochure...

-LSD

PS Happy birthday Deb & Dad!

When people ask me why I chose Cardozo over the other law schools to which I was accepted, often I give p.c. answers that point to its great intellectual property program, solid reputation in New York or outstanding faculty. But the truth is: I picked it for the food. Kosher food. More precisely, free kosher food.

Let me explain: because Cardozo is a Yeshiva University-affiliated school, all food sold on campus must be kosher. That's all well and good. But this is New York City, so acquiring kosher food isn't exactly a major challenge. No, what's special about Cardozo is the amazing amount of free food that can be yours, if you put your mind to it.

The first couple weeks of school saw a veritable glut of free offerings. First there were the welcome lunches. Then Student Services sponsored a bunch of gatherings for us 1L's. And the various student clubs all attempt to woo students with ... free food.

Once the initial frenzy subsided, sniffing out gratis grub became more of a challenge. I quickly learned that the substantial number of afternoon public lectures hosted by the school are accompanied by "informal receptions". These have featured everything from fruit platters (boring) to kebabs, franks-in-blanks, and crumbed mushrooms (awesome). Then there are faculty presentations, alumni events (to which all students are generally invited) and distinguished scholar panel discussions, all followed by culinary accoutrements. The trick is to gain access to the tucker without actually having to sit through the talks, riveting as I'm sure they are .

I figure that with all the money I'm sinking in to this joint, the least they can do is feed me.

-LSD

Joke of the day (courtesy of my bus companion Yosef Rubinstein:) Q. What was President Bush's response when asked for his position on Roe v. Wade? A: "I really don't care how black people get out of New Orleans." Awesome! Works on a lot of levels.

Where was I? Ah yes, the joys of laptopping exams. See, in the olden days, when you used writing implements to scrawl semi legible-responses in lined booklets, your biggest fear was that you might run out of ink. The simple solution was to bring into the testing room 2, 5, or 43 pens, depending on your level of psychosis.

But using a laptop introduces a whole new set of angsts. What if your machine breaks down in the middle of a discussion about the effect of federal preemption clauses on torts litigation? Or you knock the thing over and shatter your LCD screen? Or the letter E mysteriously stops working? Or you click "Save" at the end of the exam, only it turns out it was actually "Delete"?

Taking a spare laptop or two into an exam is probably impractical, not to mention seriously nerdy. My proposed solution: bring a printer along, so that you can print your answers as you go. But what if the printer breaks down? And how many ink cartridges are warranted?

My head hurts. Time for bed.

-LSD

Often I wonder whether I'm just too old to be doing this. A good example of how times have changed since my undergrad days is that we're now expected to write our exams on a laptop. Of course, for someone with truly atrocious handwriting, in may ways this is a godsend. But for the truly neurotic among us, the laptop requirement also adds a whole new level of anxiety to the process.

(to be continued)

The sporting event of the day was NOT England recapturing the Ashes after 20-odd years. It was West Ham's 4-0 trouncing of Aston Villa at Upton Park this evening, highlighted by Marlon Harewood's hat trick and Yossi Benayoun's spectacular debut goal, as he turned his defender first one way and then the other before sliding a left foot shot under the Villa keeper.

How do I know this in such detail? Um, I ... read about it. Skim read, actually. Ok, just a quick glance at the replay on telly during a toilet break. How "quick" a glance? Five..ty minutes. Sixty tops, give or take ... an hour. Fine, more taking than giving. What do you want from me? Heck, even the shnooks in solitary confinement are entitled to a couple of hours exercise a day.

Now, I better get back to Monday Night Foot- er, breach by anticipatory repudiation.

-LSD

Recurring Mission: Pick up Kayla and cohorts from nursery school in Teaneck at 1pm. When: Every Friday What's the Big Deal. Torts class on Fridays ends at 11.55am. Bus for Teaneck leaves the NY Port Authority Bus Terminal at 12.15pm. To make this bus, I have to: a. Pray some smartass in Torts doesn't prolong class by raising any issue that can conceivably relate to medical malpractice (Professor Stein's favorite tortious tangent) b. Sprint from 5th & 12th to the Union Square subway station at 14th and University Place. c. Pray there's an N, R, Q, or W train waiting on the platform (or rapidly approaching) d. Sprint from the 42nd Street subway stop on 7th avenue to Gate 210 on the top floor of the PA building on 8th avenue. e. Pray the bus is still there. As you can see, I'm relying rather heavily on G-d's benevolence here. According to an unofficial tally, the Almighty answers my prayers in the affirmative approximately 23% of the time (my success rate is dramatically lower for pleas to Heaven regarding sporting event outcomes), so I suspect my daughter's sense of abandonment will become more fully fleshed out over the coming weeks. -LSD

As this is a family-friendly blog, Sandra's response to my innovative plan for football-study synthesis cannot be reprinted here. Let's just say: motion dismissed.

-LSD

So today the real challenge of Law School begins. No, not an exam or term paper. Not even a particularly challenging topic in Torts class. Rather, tonight the NFL season kicks off. And the question that's been gnawing at me since the start of the semester is now a fully-fledged crisis: How do I maintain my study regime during football season? How do I stay focused on the law tonight, Sunday afternoon, Monday night, and every weekend for the next five months knowing that with a simple click of a button, I can swing from the drudgery of an expectations damages problem in Contracts to the unmitigated bliss of watching the Packers of Green Bay smash Baltimore, or the NY Jets pummel the pesky Patriots from New England? (admittedly not much chance of that happening this season.)

Luckily, I've come up with a great strategy: I'll simply study intensely during the infinite number of commercials that saturate the average televised football game. Brilliant, no? I'm rather surprised my study guides don't suggest this.

Wonder what Sandra's reaction will be to my plan...

-LSD

Labor Day today, and surely I did labour over mangled contracts, and remedies therefor. Once again, Sandra kindly removed the kids for the afternoon, this time taking them to the mall, where she engaged in her second favorite pastime, returning stuff (acquiring said stuff naturally holds the number one ranking). Whereas I warily purchase items in dread fear of having to go back to the store and stand in the invariably interminable queues at the wildly misnamed Customer Service desk, my wife's entire shopping philosophy is predicated on her Right of Return, and is reflected in massive piles of (and periodic frantic searches for) receipts and "To be returned"-labeled bags all over our house. Still, I have to admit I share in her sense of accomplishment when she triumphantly returns from Macy's, merchandise credit in hand, having successfully returned an unopened capuccino maker purchased in the glorious naivete of our pre-offspring days.

-LSD

Sandra took the kids out for the day, allowing me the luxury of seven uninterrupted hours to delve into that alarmingly conflicted and complex personality of the Reasonable Man (this being America, there's no equivalent of the lyrical man on the Clapham omnibus, unfortunately.)

Of course, when she comes home, I'll be at my desk, complaining how I barely had time to stretch all day. No doubt I'll fail to mention the trip to the bagel store, the half hour session on the throne with the NY Times magazine (you taught me well, Dad!), and the forty winks on the couch, but still, it was a productive day.

Oh-oh, I hear the car pulling in, time to Alt-Tab it back to my Contracts notes...

-LSD

Turns out our Contracts professor is actually fairly benign. The other class ended up with The Intimidator, who assigns hundreds of pages of reading each week, interrogates students without mercy in class, and regularly assures them that "even when you're right, you're wrong." Something about teaching his minions what it's like to be "real lawyers". More like "real obnoxious lawyers" if you ask me.

Though we do have a bit of a dilemna with our prof. The other classes have four 1-hour sessions a week; we have three that are supposed to be one hour 20 mins in length. But clearly no one told Professor Shupack, who's been dismissing us after an hour. So do we let the guy know that he's actually meant to be imparting his wisdom for an extra 20 mins each day? Or do we let it slide, enjoy the shorter class, and take the risk that in Week 13 he's suddenly going to realize his mistake and bombard us with work in the week before finals? Consensus thus far is overwhelmingly on the side of keeping mum, complete with threats of bodily harm to whomever 'fesses up to the prof.

-LSD