You know youre a first year law student if

You know you’re a first year law student if:

• You find yourself using the term “chattel” multiple times each day.


• You find yourself watching Judging Amy and questioning the procedural rules of the courtroom instead of obsessing about who Amy is dating.


• You’re sitting with other students at lunch and one announces, with neither embarrassment nor shame, that she is a “staunch conservative republican” who doesn’t believe in any of that “welfare to work crap”, and you are the only one who nearly chokes on her food.


• You have a shortcut on your keyboard for the § symbol.


• You can’t imagine being anywhere without your laptop computer, and find yourself surprised that there is not wireless access everywhere.


• You find yourself thinking of arguments in terms of person one v. person two.


• You write your blog all the time in your head, but you can’t find the five minutes to type it in and click on “publish this post.”

I should have bought a DELL

Today, right before my Contracts class, I realized my battery in my laptop was almost dead. I did, what I do almost every day, and flipped the computer to swap the batteries out. When I put the other battery in, the latch that moves aside did not pop back. Thank goodness the computer still works, but now I can’t get the battery out.

When I got home, my dad and I looked at it, and neither of us could get the latch to move. So I went online to HP support. I found the exact problem, labeled Customer Solution 6692. Unfortunately, it said after that to contact HP. So I went to the ‘speak with an online technician’ section and waited 15 minutes for someone to respond.

When Shirley finally answered my chat request, I explained the problem also including the customer solution 6692 number. After several minutes she said that she would help me. After several more minutes she sent me a text message that said to go look at the support manual pages 113-114. I did so, in less time then it took for her to respond to me. And there on page 113 and 114 were the directions for changing the battery. Since I had now been waiting over ten minutes for this “help,” with all the kindness I could muster, I sent a text to her letting her know that I KNEW how to change the battery. I reminded her that I was requesting help because the latch was stuck and the battery wouldn’t come out – again, customer support 6692.

Again, there was a long wait.

Shirley: Try to push the latch back.
Me: I’ve already tried that. It won’t budge.
[FIVE MINUTE PAUSE]
Shirley: Anne, please try to push it back again.
Me: Ok
Me: Still doesn’t work.

After another five minutes, Shirley told me I would have to send the computer in. I let Shirley know that I was in my first week of LAW SCHOOL and that was not acceptable. I also told Shirley that I should have purchased a Dell. Shirley was nice. She told me that I could take it to a customer support center – RadioShack. Then Shirley asked if she had helped me. We had been chatting for over half an hour! I could not tell a lie, but I tried to be very nice about it.

Next I called Radio Shack who assured me they could help. I jumped in the car and rushed there before they closed. When I got there I was greeted by two guys who didn’t look much out of high school, in fact I’m not sure they were. They fiddled with the latch, much in the same way my father and I had and then told me they weren’t any sort of official support center and there was nothing they could do to help. They sent me to Best Buy.

At Best Buy, the guy really wanted to take a screwdriver to the battery, but refrained. He was very sympathetic and supportive, but really said there wasn’t anything he could do.

So I went home and checked HP website, where I determined that both Radio Shack and Best Buy were listed as support centers. HA! Then I found the phone number and dialed old HP up on the old fashioned telephone. I have been on hold with HP for nearly an hour now.

A fellow named James has finally answered my call. He is in India! I wonder what will happen?

Top Ten Things I Learned

Top Ten Things I Learned in the First 2 Days of Law School

1. We are learning process, so that we can apply it, because there is NO WAY that one could learn all of the law.

1. If there are some boys on the roof of a shed on a person’s property and that person throws a stick, intending to hit one of them, and it hits a different child, (causing him to lose eyesight in one eye), the person can be held liable, even though he didn’t intend to hit that particular child.

1. There is enough reading to keep you busy every day, all day and it is not easy reading either

1. A five year old child can be held liable for torts such as battery, as long as it can be shown that he has substantial knowledge that his action could result in harm.

1. There is no possible way to unpack your apartment in the evenings during the first week of law school.

1. An insane woman who beats her caretaker can be held liable for her tort of battery

1. In contract law, punitive damages are not awarded, because they might actually deter people from breaching contracts which through their breach may cause a net gain for one of the parties.

1. There is an entirely different process of citing references than that used in the rest of the academic world. For example a citation of 276 F. 245 (8th Cir 1921) means the particular case can be found in Volume 276 of the Federal Supplement on page 245 and the case was heard in the eight circuit in 1921. At least I think that’s what it means – I’m really just learning.

1. Most lawyers write more pages than novelists.

And the number one thing I have learned in the first two days of law school is if you are going to be carrying a backpack full of law books and a laptop computer on a five-ten minute hike back and forth to the parking garage and up and down six flights of stairs, DO NOT wear new shoes that MAY give you a blister.

Tomorrow my body will be at law school, but my mind and my heart will be at Templeton where they are having their first day of school.

Mission: Law School Orientation

Completed.  It feels like a teacher conference week.  There was so much important, excellent information, but by the end I was on information overload.  I truly feel changed after four days of law school orientation.  I suppose that change is a really important part of the process.  I see second year students, and there is clearly this difference in them that makes them seem more lawyerly.  It is interesting to go through the process and know that that change is the goal and that I will experience it, but trying to be cognizant and reflective about it at the same time.  On some level, it makes sense.  The point is to take students (often starting out at 22 years old) and turn them into lawyers in three years.

So here are two points of the enculturation process that we have been told (explicitly or implicitly) this week.  I include them because they each effect me very differently.  On the first point, I mostly think it is a bunch of hooey, so the enculturation process was not very successful.  Of course, I carry the bias of my feelings about standardized tests and traditional grading with me.  On the second point, I do feel moved and filled with the importance of my newest endeavor.  

1. We are the best and brightest.  It used to be that it was very easy to get into law school, but then one out of three people wouldn’t make it.  Now, it is difficult to get in, but once you are there you will probably complete the process.  At MU, for our class of 152, they had over 1000 applications, which by my math means that about 15% of applicants are admitted.  Among our class of 152, the average undergraduate GPA is 3.51 and the average LSAT score is 158.  So how do I fit in?  My undergraduate GPA was 2.58 (although that was ten years ago and I have a 3.7 Graduate GPA that they DO NOT count) and I scored a 168 (97th percentile) on the LSATs. So on the one hand, there stats do make it seem like we are the best and the brightest.  On the other hand, after spending a week with some of these people, I am a little worried if they are the best and the brightest.  Although I am truly trying not to be too judgmental, there are people that said and did things this week that made me wonder how in the world they got to be here.  Although, to give them the benefit of the doubt, many of these people are also very young.  Wow, now I am really sounding judgmental, I better move on to the next point.


2. We heard a lot about the purpose of lawyers in society and the importance as a lawyer of not involving yourself directly in your client’s conflict.  There were some powerful speeches about how, despite all the lawyer jokes, people come to lawyers when the worst thing in their life has happened.  Whether it is a divorce or a murder charge, usually before they start therapy, they come to a lawyer for help in solving their problem.  They need somebody to guide them through the incredibly complicated conflict resolution process in this country and there is a lot of responsibility in doing that in a professional manner.  We will become guides to a very complicated and overwhelming process that people will be encountering at a time when they are emotionally not at their best.  On the one hand, when I write this, it sounds kind of dorky, especially knowing all the stories of crappy lawyers, some of which I have dealt directly with.  On the other hand, I already feel passion and belief in the importance of what I am going to do.  I suppose that is part of the process.

We also learned a lot this week about the law, how it fits into society, and how to start to tease the nuances of it apart.  This was very exciting to me.  I remember when Gene was going through his custody battle with Becky, when I was trying to understand the process that Billie was going through, and when I was trying to grapple with the legalese of FRD being able to live with me despite me not being his bio-parent.  At each of these times, I read cases and statutes and, on my own, tried to tease apart the distinctions and understand how a particular judge might rule.  During these times of my life, I enjoyed the intellectual stimulation from this type of Socratic thinking at times to the neglect of the other things I should have been working on.  Before orientation, I thought that this passion and excitement for the nuances of the law was limited to these particular issues as an outgrowth of my passion for them.  Now, I am beginning to discover that it is the process of this that I love.  I actually come home and want to spend my time reading, briefing, and researching the cases.  It is early, so I dare not say more for fear of jinxing the next several years.

I have also spent a lot of time this week people watching.  It is fascinating to watch as these 152 people get to know each other.  I have been told that law school is emotionally like high school and intellectually like graduate school.  Thus far, I have found this to be true.  I mean, we have lockers, shared study carrels, and we share all the same classes with 76 people.  Different little groups have formed and reformed over the week.  I have kind of floated amongst different people, making lots of acquaintances, but not any friends as of yet.  As I ask to sit or work with different groups, I get mixed reactions.  Some people are friendly and outgoing and others are exclusive and rude (one girl rolled her eyes at her friend when I made a joke—and come on, I’m funny!) A lot of the students are a decade younger than me, which makes me feel very middle age, but there are a few that are closer to my age and I am trying not to focus on age differences as it would be to depressing.

Orientation week completed.  Classes start on Monday.  I have a plethora of assignments for the first day and an apartment that still has not been unpacked.  With that, I head into the weekend.

From Bagging Kit Kats to Being a Human Lawyer

At the foodbank, after we donned our hairnets and latex gloves, we stood around tables in groups of four to six and rebagged mounds and mounds of Kit Kats into small bags and closed them with twist ties. I think the KitKats were rejected -- anybody remember that Apprentice where they tried to make candy bars and had to throw them away if they weren't perfect? 67 of us did this for two hours. That is a LOT of Kit Kats. When I first arrived, I started at a table with a professor and some other students. Later I found out he was the Dean of the Law School, and I was frankly impressed that he was attending the event. I do wonder why the other 83 students did not attend.

After the food bank project, we reconvened at the Law School and the lawyer enculturation began. (I'm not sure if that's a word). Basically, from the beginning, they talked about how special we were, how there were 1000 applications and we were the ones that were picked. Then we did a lot of bureaucratic stuff and checked out the student organizations.

In the afternoon we watched "To Kill a Mockingbird" and three of the law professors shared their thoughts about the importance of it. I was really moved by the movie and their brief talks, so I will share a few of their points. This is just my interpretation of some of what they said:

*Atticus Finch is a hero because he is a decent person who stands up for his values, not because he is a good lawyer.
*The production of this movie, in 1962, was very much about current affairs, even though it referred to events in the 1930s.
*The primary flaws in the United States law system are the laws related to race.
*At the end of the movie, when Atticus decides to let the law go, so that Boo can go free, he chooses to be human instead of a lawyer.
*We were humans before entering law school, and we need to make sure that we keep hold of our humanity as we become lawyers.
*We will very often find ourselves in conflict between making the human choice and making the lawyer choice.

Which makes me think about how I ask kids to think about conflict in the classroom. It really is much of the same thing. The law will, at times, be in conflict of what I think is right. By being aware of this conflict and keeping this balance at the front of my consciousness, I will be a better lawyer and a better person. I think maybe some of this needs to settle a little more, as it doesn't quite say what I'm thinking.

Tomorrow we learn how to use a Law Library, which apparently is a lot more complicated than your everyday library.

Molly's Bad Day; Law School Orientation Tomorrow

My dad is convinced that since he trained the squirrels to eat by the door, he can train Molly not to slam her face into the glass window while they're doing it. The squirrels, on the other hand, seem to understand that Molly can not reach them and taunt her endlessly.

Sadly, this post is not as fun to write as I thought it would be when I took the picture. This afternoon, while I was walking Molly, she stepped into a bush and returned with a baby bunny. I ordered her to immediately drop it. She did and the bunny limped up the walkway to my neighbors porch. I pushed Maggie (oblivious) and Molly back into the house and had my mom call the humane society. They said they would take it, so I headed back out with a shoebox. By this time, the bunny had died. I was very sad and, strangely, I was actually angry at Molly. I know logically that she is a dog and that this is just part of her nature, but the bunny was so tiny and soft and sad looking, I felt very protective of it. I keep trying to tell myself that it must have been sick, because it didn't even hop away from her and I also try to tell myself that she didn't mean to kill it, she just wanted to play with it and carry it around like she does her "babies." But neither makes me feel any better. It is sad when something small and soft and snuggly dies and it weighs on me that my Molly was the predator.

---------------------------

Law School Orientation begins tomorrow. We start at the Central Missouri Food Bank doing a volunteer service project. How cool is that? There is no doubt that a law school that begins their orientation with action like this is the right place for me. In the introduction letter, they explain the choice to begin orientation like this as "an effort to emphasize the importance the School of Law places on service to others."

My first questions: How many law schools do this? How did it start? How many of the 150 new Law students will show up for this non-mandatory part of the orientation? What faculty will be there? Will we do more service projects throughout the year?

After the food bank, it looks like there will be some introduction speeches and a lot of bureaucratic stuff. Student photos for the law school student facesheet should be fun with my eye just as red as it was two days ago. Then in the afternoon we watch and discuss "To Kill a Mockingbird."

I'm nervous and excited. Sometimes, when I think of everybody setting up their classrooms and how comfortable and content I would be there, I wonder why I am doing this big scary new thing. I will meet 150+ people tomorrow, people that I will learn and grow with over the next three years. Since patience isn't my strength, I am desperate to know how all this will work out over the next semester. What will my impressions of law school be in four months? How will I change and will I be able to keep the all important passionate parts of myself?

Can't See the Car For the Tree

Thunder and lightening end the drought with such efficiency that water with no place to go swims by my basement door carrying the birdseed towards the wood pile. The wind pulls the leaves from the trees and whisks them throughout the yard. I am safe and warm and working on unpacking bags full of clothes, trying to decide what to do with packing wrinkles. The phone rings.

Dad: Pauline [our neighbor] just called. She said a tree fell in the front yard. She thought it hit one of our cars, but it's no where near the Honda. Thank goodness.

I rush to the front window to see.

Me: Uh Dad, where do you think my car was parked?

Dad: Hmm. Where is your car?

Me: Dad, I think it might be under that tree.

Dad: Oh shit. I guess Pauline was right, it did hit a car. I forgot all about your car.

Miraculously, my car survives with only a few dents and bruises, no broken glass, and the tree is removed by early evening.

Two Days Post Operation

Today is another down in the dump days. My dad says that it has something to do with post operative hormones, but basically it just sucks. I feel like I can't do anything because it hurts when I move my head, and I have so much to do. Also, everything about how I see has changed. I continue to be concerned that there has been an over correction, but really I won't know for sure for six weeks. The swelling and redness and light sensitivity continue, and the redness has actually gotten worse. My vision is a little fuzzy today, probably because there is some increased swelling. Also, it seems like there are two layers on everything. It takes me way to long to turn my head. I hope that today will hurry and be over so tomorrow can be a better day.

The Day After

Surgery sucks. The only good thing, I suppose is that I have slept more than I can remember in the last 24 hours. So here was the ordeal. I arrived at the outpatient surgery center at 7:15 am. They took me back to a room where my eye doctor came back and wrote his initials in permanent marker over my right eye. Later my dad told me he was very relieved that he did that because when the two of them were chatting about the surgery last month (they are friends), the eye doctor kept talking about my left eye. Then a nurse directed me to take ALL my clothes off and put on their silly hospital gown. Yes, I did ask why I had to take all my clothes off for surgery on my eye and I was not overly relieved when I found out it was so they would have good access to my body if anything went wrong during the time I was under.

After some time, an anesthesiologist came in to start my IV. OUCH! My dad tried to make me feel better once again by letting me know that they use BIG IVs during surgery because if they need good access they want to have it. No, that didn't make me nervous. Then they pumped my arm full of cold water, which they said wasn't really cold, just room temperature. . . but it felt cold to me. My dad, sharing stories about all his IVs made some mention of the feeling of Demerol through an IV, to which the anesthesiologist responded, "We start to worry about people when they ask for the Demerol," When he left the room, I asked my dad to please say something doctor like so the guy did not think he was a drug addict. He just laughed at me.

Well after some time, where my stomach started to get all tingly with nerves, a resident came in with a med student. She asked me to look in all sorts of different directions, while the med student stood behind her and looked interested in whatever it is that my eyes do. Actually, the med student just looked nervous and confused which didn't make me feel that much better except that I knew that Dr. G was going to actually do my surgery.

Finally the nurse came in to walk me back to the operating room. As we got settled in the room, she said something about recognizing my dad. I climbed up on the bed, and the anesthesiologist asked if she knew him because he had had a lot of surgeries. I saw my moment and let him know that he was a doctor in the building. After a slight pause and a half laugh, the anesthesiologist said, "I guess I shouldn't have made that comment about the Demerol." We all laughed.

The female nurse told me to start thinking of a happy dream, while she lowered the oxygen mask over my face. Then the male nurse with the advertisement on his cap started telling everybody about the dream he had last night. The last thing I remember was the nice female nurse whispering in my ear, "Honey, you think of your own dream."

The next thing I knew, they were telling me it was all over and it was time to wake up. I tried to open my eyes, but the pain was excruciating. Then I started having dry heaves and/or vomiting. Somebody told me that was very common with eye muscle surgery, which didn't make my stomach, my throat, or my head feel any better. For the next while, I kept fading in and out, between moments of heaves. Every time I tried to open my eyes, they were blurry and I got sick again. It was very disconcerting, and I was a lot frightened that something had gone wrong.

The next couple of hours is a blur, but at some point, they moved me to level 2, where my mom and dad came in. They thought I was sleeping, but really I just still couldn't open my eyes. Dr. G came in at some point. When he asked how I was doing, I told him I couldn't open my eyes. "Sure you can," he said and pried them open. Apparently my communication skills were not at full function at that moment, because what I should have said was that I could open my eyes, but the pain was too excruciating. So there I sat, feeling as though somebody was running a metal file across the underside of my right eye, and Dr. G wanted to know if I was seeing double. I felt more like I was seeing triple, and every time my right eye moved it felt as though I was being stabbed with a rusty fork. I suppose he left, and other people came and went and time passed as I fell in and out of sleep.

At one point, they decided that I should get up, move to a chair, and then go home, seeing as it is SAME day surgery. So that sat me up and I started having the dry heaves all over again. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than the dry heaves. I hate them. And to have the dry heaves and a moment when every time I moved my head it felt like needles where being shoved into my eyes just makes it worse. So, my eyes started to water, like they do when you heave like that. Only after eye surgery, water isn't the liquid that comes out. That's right, I sat there in the hospital bed, dry heaving, with tears of blood dripping down my cheeks. If only my mom had brought the video camera. After moments of this, I decided it would be better if I lay back down, with no firm commitments to get up in the near future.

I slept a while longer and then decided I wanted the IV out and wanted to go home. Somehow I thought I might feel better if I could get out of the hospital. So, up I sat again and this time it was a lot better. They moved me to a chair, my mom helped me get dressed, and after donning a pair of sunglasses they wheeled me out. I have to tell you, that I didn't open my eyes during this whole thing, and it was very bothersome to not see while doing this. I still had this fear that something was very wrong. On the way out, Dr. G, popped out from nowhere and held a purple pen in front of my face. He made me open my eyes again, and pointed out that the tilt in my head was gone. Yes, I thought, but it has been replaced by excruciating pain every time I open my eyes or move my head in any direction. But I thanked him anyway.

I kept my eyes closed during the drive home and then promptly went back to sleep when I got home. I slept off and on throughout the day, while my mom -- chief nurse extraordinaire -- took care of Molly and Maggie and popped in regularly to remind me to drink lots of fluid. The only time she and I had a disagreement was when she insisted that we pry my right eye open to insert the necessary drops. I have to ask who devised such torture as putting drops in an eye they same day it has been slit open, pulled apart, and the muscles have been cut.

As the day went on, my eye started to feel a lot better, which simply meant that the pain was now downgraded to unbearably miserable. For example, it began to feel like the inside of my eye was only coated with sandpaper. When I moved my head, there was not as much double vision, but if I moved my eyes, everything was all out of whack.

My dad came home in the evening and we sat in a dark room. I reminded him that the physicians assistant from the previous day had said some people would be up and normal by the afternoon. He reminded me that when they send people home, they don't really know. He felt that everything that was happening was normal. He explained that the pain in the eye was because of the stitches and the swelling, not from the cutting of the muscles and that it should get slowly better over the next few days. I found that very reassuring.

So, I went back to sleep and slept through the night. This morning and afternoon, I am much more able to open my right eye. My head does seem to be a lot more straight then it used to and I can see without double vision when I move my head to the right. However, if I move my eyes without my head, I still feel very disoriented and everything goes haywire. Also, when I move my head to the left (used to be my good side) I have slight double vision. I don't know if this means there has been an overcorrection, or if it is just a temporary thing. It still hurts inside my eye quite a bit and things are blurry and I see halos because of all the gook and blood in there.

I don't really feel like I can do much because I get a headache when I move around and I can't read either, but I can't sleep anymore either, which leaves me with that awful cabin fever feeling. It makes me feel kind of down in the dumps. I'm trying to remember that it is going to get better by leaps and bounds in the next few days and weeks and that I just need to be patient, which is unfortunately not one of my best virtues.

The Apartment, The Law Books, and The Eye Surgery

Yesterday, I put together my new desk. I was surprised and a little disappointed that the directions did not include words. That is, there were lots of pictures, but no words to explain what I was to do. Why wouldn't they have words? On one page, the picture had three circled items with complicated enlarged diagrams to demonstrate what could have been said in the simple sentence, "Be sure the unfinished edge is facing up and there is a 1/16 inch space around the outside."

Setting up this apartment is taking more energy than I thought. I'm buried in boxes, swimming in furniture, and still living out of a suitcase. I can't seem to get everything to fit. The bedroom is the size of a bowling ally (long and narrow) and the kitchen is the size of a closet. And unless I consider storing the food and dishes in the bedroom, it doesn't really work for me. Already in the "bedroom," beyond the bed, is a loveseat, recliner, exercise equipment, musical instruments, a desk, TV, and a bookshelf and there is still plenty of room. I feel like I just keep moving boxes around, but nothing is actually getting unpacked. Sadly, I am feeling the crunch of time and really feel like I need the apartment to be functional by the time orientation starts next week.

I bought my books yesterday. The bill was just under $600. I went to the law school booksale, but only found two books there. I had to get the rest of the books from the University Bookstore, where I also got my student id. I passed several students who will be in my cohort, as we all carried the same pinkish book list around with us, but didn't really meet anyone yet. I suppose that will happen next week during orientation. In the law school building I overheard a second year student (we call them 2L) talking to a first year student (1L). The 1L was asking about what extra books and study guides to buy. The 2L responded, "Don't buy any of that stuff now. Basically, you're going to have no idea what is going on for the first several months, so there is sense in spending the extra money. I mean you've never done anything like this, it's going to be like a whole new universe." I waver between feeling that the 2L was torturing him and feeling very afraid that I have gotten in way over my head. I should have some idea soon as I already have an assignment due for the first day of my Civil Procedure Class.

Tomorrow I have surgery on my eye to weaken one of my muscles to compensate for a weak muscle on the other side. It seemed a little backwards to me that they are planning to cut a muscle to make another muscle seem stronger. I am a little excited and a little freaked out about the whole thing. I can't imagine that my whole way of seeing the world will literally be changed tomorrow. This muscle weakness is a congenital condition, and my way of compensating for it has been to hold my head at a slight tilt. This tilt has caused numerous muscular problems in my neck and shoulders. Also, when I'm tired, I see double anyway (as anybody whose been in a car with me at night knows) and I can't look to my left or lay on my right side without seeing double. Now, if all goes well, the tilt will be gone and I will not have double vision anymore. I can't even imagine being able to hold my head straight without struggling to achieve binocular vision.

Look What I found!

It started when I was sorting children, having them move to different parts of the room based on some classifying part. For example, I might have kids who like pizza the best stand by the closets, kids who like mac and cheese the best stand by the tables, and kids that like something else entirely stand by the door. Kids loved it, it gave them a chance to move, and there are a slew of other brain compatible reasons for doing it. So, once, on a whim, I had kids move to the two sides of the room based on whether their shirts were dark or light.

The first time, I was slightly amused that all the girls were on one half of the room and all the boys were on the other half. The second time, I wondered about it. And by the third time I, as well as the entire class was curious beyond belief. That was nearly five years ago. So of course we studied the phenomenon. And as a class, we came up with a lot more questions and a few realizations.

Here are some of the realizations of that first year. They apply only to first through third graders with an average clothing size of 8-10.

With only rare exceptions, most:

1. Girl shirts can be classified as light in color.
2. Boy shirts can be classified as dark in color.

3. When girl shirts are darker in color, they always have other traditionally female type components such as flowers, embroidery, cupped sleeves, scalloped necks, etc.

If you are completely lost, at this point, take a break and go to ANY store. Shop for general clothing for a boy or girl in size 8-10. Sears is the worst and Old Navy is the best, in my opinion. At least at Old Navy you can buy plain t-shirts. But it isn’t great anywhere, believe me -- I've looked.

In the next year, the students and I began a search for a PLAIN navy blue size 8-10 girls t-shirt or a PLAIN pink boys size 8-10 shirt. With the assistance of my students, I have been searching for these items for over three years now. And although we have found blue shirts for girls, they always have had "girl" components that keep them from being plain. The only pink shirts for boys we have uncovered have come from a fifth grader in Mr. C's class who came and talked to us very eloquently about why he choose to wear pink. Unfortunately, we had to disqualify the shirt, because it was NOT size 8-10.

The unavailability of these colors in these sizes, as well as the more general, but less quantifiable, impression that girls and boys clothes, especially in the sizes generally associated with the development of so many sex based perceptions, was fodder for debate off and on throughout the next several years. Like many multi-year projects, it was always laying in the back of collective classroom identity, brought forth on many occasions, and sparked by pictures of boys and girls in picture books, particular gender based clothing choices of the occupants of our community, or just remembered and shared with others as it occurred to them.

The first few years, we were mostly collecting data, observing, connecting, and questioning. Why were their signs in the stores separating the "boys" clothes from the "girls" clothes? (In later years, a student actually compared this with the Jim Crow Laws, saying that the segregation of the sale of clothes made it so many girls were not allowed to shop in boys departments and visa versa by way of signs.) Who decided the colors, the styles, and which gender got them? Where the differences in the clothes in the stores the reflection of the parents desires, the children's desires, or the clothing industry's decision of how boys and girls should be represented? Clothing color and style effected us regularly.

Once, two years ago, a boy asked to wear a girls pink jacket. Prompted by teasing on the playground, we took a writer's walk around the building, recording other's reaction to him. As other students believed we were simply recording sights and smells and sounds, we noticed laughter and snickering, pointing and under-breath comments in every single classroom we approached. Another teacher even pulled me aside, laughing, to ask me why he was wearing pink.

This past year, our investigation reached an all time fury of activity. Kids started turning beyond questioning and on to action. The whole thing seemed so deeply rooted, so much a part of everything, that students were lost at first for a way to make a difference. And then many of them decided to make the difference in the only they could: one child at a time, one outfit at a time. There were girls in dark shirts, and a few boys in light colors. Several girls borrowed their brother's clothing and then made a point of sharing how others had reacted to it outside of our classroom. The idea behind this pseudo cross dressing was to make it more common, one child at a time, and therefore less outrageous. If it was more accepted, again one child at a time, then the clothing industry would begin to offer more non-gender-based choices. This was a child's interpretation and implementation of a grassroots campaign based on changing one own's action to implement change in the larger community.

Advertising campaigns were developed with thought provoking questions such as "Who decided what you wear? The clothing industry? Your parents? Or you?" This was based on the discovery of some children that their own parents were not supportive of their desire to shop or wear clothing that was designated for the other sex. Mind you, wewere primarily talking colors here. For example, a dark green shirt with a dinosaur on a girl. Or even a plain pink shirt on a boy and a plain navy blue shirt on a girl. Something we still couldn't find.

The effect was transformational. Each child reacted in their own way, at their own level. The change was more profound in the girls, I believe because it was more accepted by parents and because girls were more outraged by the history of limitations in girls clothing and driven by their desire to not be limited to all the connotations of today’s sex driven culture. This summer,

I was happy to hear from a former parent that I was not the only one who continued to be affected by this ongoing study. She says, "XXXX is still very dedicated to her gender issues and won't let me buy her anything that looks too girly. I am so glad that she had you for that year, and the gender exploration has been a huge part of what I am so thankful for. I feel like it is so easy for girls to get sucked into that "girl culture" that has been marketed at them and I feel like it makes them stop exploring life in order to constantly examine the image they are creating. I am hoping that this will give her some ammunition for the years ahead."

And I, as continuous inquirer, have also been unable to let this one go. I have, in spurts and moments, in stores across Florida, to just happen by the children's section, looking for that pink or blue shirt.

And that's how I found it.
In the Orlando Wal-Mart Superstore.
The day before my departure.

I was wasting time I didn't have, walking through the boys department when I found it hanging beside button downs in boy colored blue. I bought it so you have a size 8-10 boy who will wear it, or would like to use it in your classroom, just let me know. First I looked for it at Wal-mart.com, but it was not there.

Perhaps it was a fluke, but I choose to believe that a small classroom in Bloomington, IN somehow made a difference that is finally showing up on the shelves. Only time will tell. Time, and more grassroots efforts to de-genderalize our children's clothing, allowing them the choice to dress in ways that reflect their personalities instead of their gender.

Bye Bye Orlando

My life of the past two months is snuggled in the back of a too small station wagon, and I am surprised that enough stuff to fill a sixteen foot truck still awaits me in Missouri. Maggie and Molly are confused and anxious, wondering where we are off to now. Molly keeps following me around with her pink baby, asking with her milky brown eyes, "Where did George go?" (He's already been shipped off to Camp Michele, while Mike escorts us to Missouri) I've made them a nice seat, atop two dog beds, two feather pillows, and a comforter, but, like me, I imagine they will be squirming and wishing for it to be over within the first five hours of the eighteen hour drive.

I've got Nickled and Dimed, To Kill a Mockingbird, Harry Potter #5 (I know-I'm behind), The Time Patrol, Great Science Fiction Short Novels, A Civil Action, and an IPOD packed full of great driving songs, but I still wish it were tomorrow night and I was already there. We hope to hit the road in the next hour, so my next blog will probably be from Missouri.

Two Days Before Departure

The days slip past quickly now and more of my thoughts have traveled across the country to my soon to be home of Missouri. Allowing my actions to follow, I have begun finding the all important contacts in Columbia, namely a place to get my haircut and a vet for Maggie and Molly. I spent a long time on the phone with Brandi, my Bloomington Hairdresser, trying to convince her to make a house call to Missouri. When that failed, I wrote down in painstaking detail what she has done to my hair for the past decade. Then I made an appointment with a salon, but had to call Brandi back for more specific instructions. Is it daring to have your hair cut at the first new place in fourteen years the week before you begin law school and the day of your student ID picture? I still have not found a vet, and need one soon because Maggie has developed a never healing sore on her back that she chews on constantly. Her vet also declined the invitation for a long distance house call.

In my previously stated effort to keep you informed of the law school developments, I feel obligated to let you know that my books are going to cost $630 from the University Book Store. After cross checking prices on Amazon, I realized that I could save a whopping $27 but would have to wait 2-3 weeks for shipment. There seems to be some noise about a resale of texts at the law school building, so I am waiting to check that out before punching such a large hole in my budget.

Bye Bye Beach House

Has it really been so many days since I've posted? It's been a whirlwind of travel as I've gone back and forth from Longboat to Tampa several times to help Mike with car shopping. He finally bought a 2003 Nissan Maxima and seems very happy with it.

The Ps and I are shutting down the beach house today. Christina, Baby Rachel and Teenage Aerin took off in their minivan yesterday, thankfully dragging some of my belongings with them. (I have no idea how I ended up with so much stuff down here) Michael got to fly back to Indy, because he has to be back for work. Yeah sure. Mike is back working in Orlando, where I will join him this evening. We will stay in Orlando through the week and then on Friday we will drive to Missouri. From there Mike will fly to Memphis and then back to Orlando.

The summer is quickly ending. I already have a list a mile long of things that have to be down as soon as I set foot in Missouri. Not the least of which is unpack everything I brought to Missouri in the first week in June and set up my new apartment. Then the real adventure begins. . . Law School.