You're Never Ready
A Post in Memory of Professor M.
Hey Readers!
This week, I’m posting early because I want to share a story with you that I wrote a few weeks back when I learned that a dear professor from law school was ill. I found out this week that he passed away. I wanted to share this story in his honor.
You’re Never Ready
By: Sarah Crowne
Imagine this: I’m a first-gen college grad, tackling law school part-time while juggling parenthood and a job. After surviving my first year, I’m starting to grasp the legal world, despite having zero experience. Coming from a blue-collar family, all I know of law comes from Court TV. You see, I went from being an early childhood teacher singing the ABCS and reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to a group of wide-eyed schoolchildren to debating Promissory Estoppel and dissecting Pennoyer v. Neff. It was a shift.
But I dive into this new world, armed with dedication, late-night classes, and a fear of being called on, mostly because I am typically called on at 9:45 pm (and I’m thinking about my 1.5-hour commute home). The exhaustion is the hardest. That was year one.
So, the first day of Year Two, when I make my way into Professor M.’s Constitutional Law class and he announces a new way of teaching, I’m intrigued. He says he will not call randomly on us. No, instead, he’s going to assign each of us a different case every week. We will know ahead of time what case we will present. Wow! I think. An entire week to prepare! This is glorious in my neurotic, rising 2L mind. For once, I’ll be truly prepared when called on. I’ll come armed with coffee and elaborate notes. As luck would have it, I’m going first. The case: Marbury v. Madison.
For the next week, I delve into every detail I can find on Marbury. I read the case more than once, as well as case briefs. Of course, I also google it on the internet and seek out other students that share their thoughts with me.
Basically, I read everything I can get my hands on and talk to everyone and anyone that knows something about Marbury (except Professor M.). I jot it all down on a beautiful bullet point list I’ll use in class when it’s my turn to present. It’s going to be great; I think. I got this.
The day of class, I open up my notes and my casebook, eager to get started. Professor M. comes in carrying his books and notes. A big smile. He starts class.
And I wait.
I wait for what feels like an excruciating long time to present my notes.
Professor M. talks about Marbury. He tells it as a wonderful, animated story, that I don’t quite remember, but it was something about a bar in D.C.? As he talks, I watch each one of my bullet points on my list disappear. Through his story, he knocks off every single one of the items I was going to say about the case. Even the smart, critical thinking points I wanted to make. He says it all and more. So much more.
I look down at my notes and panic sets in. What will I say when he calls on me?
As we reach near the end of class, he calls my name. He says with a grin, Sarah, what would you like to share about Marbury v. Madison?
My heart climbs to the center of my throat. This is all I remember. I don’t recall what I said. I think I was thinking, everything you just said, and oh, I didn’t research enough and wow I am so inspired by everything I just learned. But more than likely, I said something like. “I found it interesting Marbury was the case that established judicial review.” Which, at least, got to the point of the case, but minus all the extra I wanted to show off with.
And there’s the lesson.
Looking back, I realize we can never be prepared for life. As a young law student, I thought the key to being a successful lawyer was to be always prepared. To always know the answer. But that isn’t the case at all.
This reminds me of a story I recently read, given during a talk by the late philosopher, Alan Wilson Watts, about Samurai apprentices. According to Watts, when learning to be a samurai, the apprentices were given all the chores of the house. While they cleaned, gardened, and did whatever other chore was assigned, their teacher would walk around with a large bamboo stick. He’d hit them out of the blue with the stick. This taught the apprentices to expect his attack. They’d tense up, waiting for it. When it happened again, they always failed to grab the stick because they were so tense and worried about it, they lost their footing.
Until one day, one apprentice decided he would not worry anymore. He realized he couldn’t stop a future attack with worry. No matter how much he waited and prepared, he always lost. So instead, he decided to go with the flow, enjoy the task in front of him, and live joyful in the moment. When his teacher brought out the bamboo stick again, he naturally reacted to it. He simply lifted his hand and grabbed the stick, to which his teacher replied: “Now you’ve got it!” and awarded him the samurai sword.
Now, clearly, Professor M. wasn’t beating us with bamboo sticks. But here’s the lesson: you can never be fully prepared for life and that’s okay. I was so worried about looking good, I forgot to take in the joy of learning, to be in the moment, to not being afraid to fail.
Professor M. taught me what pure joy and inspiration look like. He was fascinating in his knowledge, enthusiasm, humor, and dedication to the law and life that was infectious. When I think back to that day, I remember the way he told the story of Marbury with such animation and pure passion for the law. It inspired me to want to learn and grow to not only be the best attorney I could be, but an inspiring human being with a love for continuous growth and knowledge. I hope I’ve been able to inspire my law interns through the years the same way.
So, don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t let it stop you from trying. You won’t always know the right answer and you won’t always be ready. But do it anyway.
XOXO,
Sarah
AKA A Busy Lady
P.S. Because I want to support creativity, take a look at my son’s new trailer for the game he’s designing.
P.P.S. ALL THESE THREADS OF TIME hit Number 3 on New Kindle Releases in Teen Sci-Fi this week, and the top 100 for YA Science Fiction as well. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT!
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Love the Professor story. Such a good lesson. Thank you.