Thinking Fool

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November 21, 2005

Why I went to Law School - A Story (that Involves an Eventual Lesbian) Gets Told

Many people can recall a specific event in their lives that caused them to go to law school. For Nancy Grace, it was when her fiancé was murdered. For one of my classmates, it was when she read To Kill a Mockingbird. For me, it was something else.

In grade school, one of my teachers had a doctorate in something; I believe it was mathematics. This particular teacher was an excellent classroom instructor, but also the type of person who knew only one way of doing things – her way. My eighth grade class was scheduled to take a class field trip to Los Angeles, but for some odd reason, our parents and administrators decided to cancel the trip when the 1992 Los Angeles riots broke out. I guess the prospect of having their children burned and/or beaten to death was not pleasing. Somehow we managed to go to Florida instead for roughly the same price.

While in Florida, one of my friends and I grabbed a few tourist pamphlets and brought them to one of the hotel’s highest floors. We dropped the pamphlets one by one and watched their movements as they floated to the earth. (Our science teacher would have been proud. Well, not really. He was pretty much an unimaginative jerk, but some science teacher would have been proud.)

About thirty minutes later, the teacher with the doctorate came looking for my friend and me. We were watching an NBA game in the hotel lobby. (At that point in time, the NBA didn’t suck.) After a few introductory questions to set the tone (it was nothing sexual like most of you are probably thinking – I went to school way before that era (sigh)), the teacher got down to business.

Teacher: Fool, did you and [friend] drop a bunch of pamphlets off the roof of the hotel?

Fool: Well, we dropped a few pamphlets.

Teacher: Then you need to come with me and pick them up.

We didn’t protest. After all, we had dropped some pamphlets off one of the hotel’s top floors and been called out for it. What’s right is right. And it’s not like we had dropped that many, so we weren’t exactly worried about being detained for a long period of time cleaning up after ourselves.

When my friend and I walked outside and glanced at the ground, we were simply horrified. At most, we dropped six or seven pamphlets. However, scattered in front of us were nearly a hundred pamphlets. I quickly protested that we had not dropped all of the pamphlets, but the teacher was not interested in hearing the truth. Later, she and her husband would divorce and she would become romantically involved with a woman. Yes, she was a lesbian. This really has no relevance to the story, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

After picking up all of the pamphlets, we were forced to sit with the teacher and the other chaperones for about an hour as punishment for our “crime.” It just so happened that I had purchased a harmonica earlier on the trip (don’t ask) and it just happened to be in my pocket at the time of my detention. Needless to say, God must have been watching out for me at that particular moment in time because I played that harmonica (quite poorly) for the next hour in an attempt to drive my teacher crazy. She never gave me any indication as to whether my plan worked, but I have a feeling it did. After all, she eventually would divorce her husband and become romantically involved with another woman. (By the way, that other woman was a P.E. and English teacher at my grade school. One day, she and I found ourselves walking near each other on a sidewalk; so we started talking about Phoenix’s brilliant plan to beautify a freeway by placing pots on the freeway walls. The project’s price tag was $500,000, certainly not a huge amount of money by governmental standards, but still a waste of public resources. I remember saying, “I can’t believe they’re going to spend $500,000 on pots.” The P.E./English teacher quickly replied, “Actually, they’re going to spend half a million.” She was an idiot. Nice, but an idiot.)

I liked the teacher with the doctorate a lot before the trip. As mentioned, she was a fabulous math teacher (we actually learned all of Algebra I and II and most of Geometry before high school). However, it always irked me that she blamed me and punished me for something that wasn’t entirely my fault. (Later, I would learn that four other students had dropped the supermajority of the pamphlets and they never were punished, nor discovered! Don’t worry, you know how there’s that show on NBC called, “My Name is Earl,” in which the main character seeks out all the people he’s wronged in order to make amends. Well, one day I will seek out all of the people who have wronged me and they’ll make amends.)

While I was playing the harmonica, I remember thinking, “This really sucks to be punished for something that I didn’t do. I can't believe this is happening.” From that moment forward, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t until I was in college that I decided to go to law school. I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be a lesbian.

Later this week (perhaps tomorrow), O.J.'s back in the news and unfortunately, it's not because he is dead.

Posted by fool on November 21, 2005 01:21 AM

Comments

Posted by: The Attractive Nuisance at November 21, 2005 11:54 AM

Posted by: NYU Jew at November 22, 2005 08:10 PM