Bueller...Bueller...Bueller.

**WARNING: Someone had a "Case of the Mondays" when she wrote this.**

As many of you know, my computer crashed two weeks ago. It had been teetering on the precipice of complete and total failure for about three months, but two weeks ago, it decided enough was enough. And I can't blame my HP. It was a good computer. I received it as a high school graduation gift, so its run of five and a half years is admirable for a PC. So, like I said, I can't blame it for crashing...it was just really *bleeping* inconvenient.

For the four weeks leading up to my computer crashing, I had been using my computer to take notes during class. My OneNote was filled with "brilliant" class notes, most of it irreplaceable (my Sports professor gives us tests and factors that the textbook doesn't mention). I had completed my CHBO outline over fall break, and I was really not looking forward to redoing it. All of my articles for my International Criminal Law presentation were on there, and I had to work on my presentation on the school computers.

But there were some blessings in not having a computer for two weeks. I could focus more on my classes rather than get on the Internet (I'm sitting in Civ Pro as I'm writing this). My shorthand writing got a little better. And, as a result of having no computer, I got some fodder for my next blog post: Stuff that ticks me off in law school classes.

I'm not egotistical; I don't think that anyone reads my posts. If they do, that's great. But I'm not arrogant enough to think the ones who read my posts actually alter their behavior as a result of my rants. But I have got to get this out, or I'm going to explode.

1) Students who don't understand the concept of the attendance sheet.
     
The attendance sheet is a wonderful invention, allowing professors to have the students mark themselves in, rather than waste five-ten minutes of class calling out names. It does have some drawbacks (you have students who mark in others' names, mark themselves in for the previous days when they were absent, etc.), but for the most part, the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.

The attendance sheet is fairly easy to use. It either lists the names in alphabetical order or has a picture of a seating chart. All the student must do is to find their name (which will be located either by following the ABCs or by where they sit in the classroom) and write their names/initials to indicate their attendance.

But for some students, apparently this is too difficult. I can't tell you how many times I have seen a student have the sheet passed to them, and instead of marking their name, they just stare at it. Then they peruse the pages (as if the first letter of their last name has been magically changed from its usual alphabetical order). Then they don't pass it on (seriously this happened to me. A student sitting IN THE MIDDLE of the row thought that the attendance sheet had made its rounds when it reached him, and he didn't pass it on). Suddenly, a ten-second procedure has turned into a three-minute exam.

If you're in law school, you're obviously intelligent. So when the attendance sheet comes to you, recite the ABCs (or if you use a seating chart, look at where you are sitting in the classroom), find your name, and mark it. Or else I reserve the right to throw things at you.


2) Students who raise their hand to volunteer. Then decide they don't want to. Then decide they want to. Then they don't. Then they do.

Every law student knows the student I'm talking about. They raise their hand to volunteer, then decide after awhile they don't want to answer the question anymore, and they put their hand down. Then they realize that they actually do want to answer, so they put their hand back up. And they do this multiple times in a 30-second time period.

I get it. Sometimes a professor will ask a question, and while you have your hand raised, the professor/another student says something that makes you not want to answer because a) the other student has already said it; or b) your answer is not right. In that situation, it is perfectly fine to put your hand down.

I'm addressing this to the students who put their hand up and down more than twice in thirty seconds. And you know the type of hand-raising I'm talking about. It's the timid, "I think I might have something either completely brilliant or completely stupid so I'm going to put my hand up and debate with myself" hand raise. And I hate it.

Moral of the story: Don't raise your hand unless you're absolutely sure you want to answer the question/add something to the discussion.

Or else I will throw things at you.


3) Students who think they can make it down and up 3 floors in order to smoke during a five-minute break from class and then they act surprised when they're late making it back.

This is pretty self-explanatory. This is impossible to do. Stop acting shocked when you discover that you're not Flash Gordon.


4) Professors who are giving a definition and add something completely irrelevant to the middle of it, which throws you off of what the definition is.

Example: The definition of x is when two parties file, which reminds me of the time I was working in this office and Bob came up to my cubicle and asked me if I wanted to go get a Subway sandwich, to which I said no, I prefer Jimmy Johns, and Bob got angry at me and threw all of my papers on the floor, a motion to dismiss based on the grounds that the court lacks a certain type of jurisdiction.

I hate this. Granted, the story the professor interjects in the middle is usually related to the definition/test they are articulating, but still. Save the story for after you finish giving us the information that will actually be on the test. Because usually when you finally finish with the part I need to know, I have lost my train of thought and can't remember what we were trying to define in the first place.


And last but not least:

5) Professors who ban laptops and electronic devices yet talk way too fast for you to write down the definition.

Some professors that I have encountered ban electronic devices for fear of students being on the Internet or playing games rather than paying attention to what they're saying (a valid fear, considering that I'm typing this during class). I completely understand why they do this. They want our full and undivided attention, and it's their class, ergo their prerogative to decide how it's run.

I can type a lot faster than I can write. This is true for every person alive (except for infants...they don't even know they have hands). So, please, professor. If you're going to ban electronic devices, do not talk so fast that my poor hand can't write down the definition and then refuse to repeat yourself. That's just mean.