Sometimes I wish I were a coddled 3-year-old again, wrapped in a blanket like a big burrito ready to be consumed by Mr. Sandman. Law school has a remarkable ability to drain your batteries — enough so that I realized Friday night I was feeling really cranky because I had skipped a mid-afternoon siesta.
This used to happen to me as an undergraduate as well. Not during senior year, of course, but back when grades still mattered and going to class was still strongly recommended. Every once in a while, things became hectic enough for me to wish for a return to the days of yore, back when work was an afterthought and the only stimulants were apple juice and bright colors.
No, I’m not talking about freshman year; I’m talking about kindergarten. It was awesome. What if we brought the practices of kindergarten to law school? Or, if you are unlucky enough not to be in law school, to med school, college or even real work?
Wasn’t that the life? No trying to distill the arcane Rule in Shelley’s Case, the Statute Against Perpetuities and my personally oft-cited Motion to Suppress the Gun. Nevermore. Instead, the learning would be interspersed with several breaks and activities designed to give our collective psyche much-needed rest and relaxation.
Right now, wherever you are, don’t you just want to drop into a fetal position and drift off to merciful sleep? What if you knew that, at precisely 1 o’clock, you had a scheduled naptime? Is that something you would be interested in? Wouldn’t you feel better, and by virtue of that, more productive? Doesn’t it sound like the greatest thing in the history of greatest things?
And what about story time? I mean, we’re old enough to know that Rapunzel as a story doesn’t really work because all she needed to do was bring a tort action for false imprisonment to get released. Duh. But story time was a blast. A break in between Property and Contracts to hear stories would certainly be welcome. And if someone passes around cookies and milk, well, my leg may start a-thumpin’ with happiness.
Lastly, I just realized that throwing a temper tantrum at my age is regarded as unseemly. Who knew? I am not claiming that they are the height of dignity, but why outlaw something so damn effective? My contracts professor asked for the ex ante implications of the judge’s ruling. At that point, I dropped to the floor and started screaming and wailing on that floor with my hands and feet just as Neil Diamond beats up immigrants. The professor has not asked me a question since. It works!
That settles it. In class tomorrow, I will raise my hand and demand naptime. And when the professor asks me why, I’ll say it’s a constitutional right. And when the professor tells me that the Constitution doesn’t say that, I’ll say it should. He’ll say I’m wrong. But I’ll fight it to the Supreme Court if I have to. By way of argument I’ll pitch a hissy. It’s foolproof. A slam dunk. It’ll work like a – oops, got to go. It’s snack time.
Carlos Maycotte, a first-year student in the School of Law, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at [email protected].
