Tuesday, September 14, 2004
I Can't Take It
Yesterday morning I showed up for my Conflict of Laws class, taught by Professor V. Fifteen minutes after it started, I was already making up my mind that I wanted to drop it.
I decided that I can't take an entire semester in a classroom with Professor V. He might be as young as 75, but looks closer to 85. He talks softly, mumbles, and has a German accent so I can't understand what he's saying. He's a bit hunched over with age, and he shuffles instead of walks. He read extensively from his notes with no expression, sometimes trailing off when he lost his place and never picking back up on the sentence he had just started. It was all I could do just to understand what words were coming out of his mouth, let alone what they meant. This is my 3L year, I told myself. I deserve better than this.
My 1L year I took an elective course in Church and State, taught by Professor M. Professor M. has a reputation throughout the law school as one of the worst teachers, and rightly so. He was dry, long-winded, uninteresting, and when he finally did interact with the students, he asked unhelpful questions ("Surely you have something to say about this case, don't you, Mr. Astle?"). But the subject matter of Church and State was inherently interesting to me, so I struggled through it and ended up writing a paper on Mormon government systems for the final grade (see the link to the left) and came away with an OK opinion of the class (and an A).
But Conflict of Laws is not nearly as inherently interesting to me, and I don't know when I'll need to use it in my practice if I'm not planning on international or even interstate work. And besides, even if Professor M. was boring, at least I could understand the words he was saying.
I kind of feel bad for Professor V. He's obviously very intelligent and used to be a great teacher. He's just way past his prime. Shelly commented that teaching might be what he lives for--she's probably right, because otherwise, he probably wouldn't still be teaching at this age. I walked right out of the class and dropped it from my schedule. I wonder how many other people did, too. There were only about 25 people in the class to begin with; how will Professor V. feel if only 15 of them come today? Yes, I feel bad for him, but my pity for him isn't strong enough to make me sit through three hours a week of mind-numbing class with him.
I decided that I can't take an entire semester in a classroom with Professor V. He might be as young as 75, but looks closer to 85. He talks softly, mumbles, and has a German accent so I can't understand what he's saying. He's a bit hunched over with age, and he shuffles instead of walks. He read extensively from his notes with no expression, sometimes trailing off when he lost his place and never picking back up on the sentence he had just started. It was all I could do just to understand what words were coming out of his mouth, let alone what they meant. This is my 3L year, I told myself. I deserve better than this.
My 1L year I took an elective course in Church and State, taught by Professor M. Professor M. has a reputation throughout the law school as one of the worst teachers, and rightly so. He was dry, long-winded, uninteresting, and when he finally did interact with the students, he asked unhelpful questions ("Surely you have something to say about this case, don't you, Mr. Astle?"). But the subject matter of Church and State was inherently interesting to me, so I struggled through it and ended up writing a paper on Mormon government systems for the final grade (see the link to the left) and came away with an OK opinion of the class (and an A).
But Conflict of Laws is not nearly as inherently interesting to me, and I don't know when I'll need to use it in my practice if I'm not planning on international or even interstate work. And besides, even if Professor M. was boring, at least I could understand the words he was saying.
I kind of feel bad for Professor V. He's obviously very intelligent and used to be a great teacher. He's just way past his prime. Shelly commented that teaching might be what he lives for--she's probably right, because otherwise, he probably wouldn't still be teaching at this age. I walked right out of the class and dropped it from my schedule. I wonder how many other people did, too. There were only about 25 people in the class to begin with; how will Professor V. feel if only 15 of them come today? Yes, I feel bad for him, but my pity for him isn't strong enough to make me sit through three hours a week of mind-numbing class with him.
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