I used to think lawyers were boring

I just started a new job last week, my second job as a paralegal since leaving the Peace Corps, which has been going very well so far.  Admittedly I haven't done much--the paralegal that I am replacing is still here, training me while still doing most of his job, plus the firm settled a few major cases right before I got here and the workload hasn't picked back up yet.  In the down time, I can research law schools, plan my upcoming vacation to D.C., and, well, blog.

I'm not entirely sure when or how I became interested in studying and practicing law, but it feels very right, and it's wonderful to be working towards something somewhat specific.  

Senior year of high school, my AP U.S. Government/Macroeconomics teacher told me that I should be a lawyer.  My class participated in a village government day where we could shadow someone within the local government--the day concluded with a mock council meeting where we actually got to decide (from among three or so choices) how a few hundred dollars should be used.  The drop boxes at the Schaumburg Metra Station, where residents can pay their water bills, are, to my knowledge, still there.  You're welcome, Schaumburg water bill-paying commuters!  

Sadly, I can't actually take credit for the group's choice--I remember being very disappointed that, as the Village Attorney for the day, I did not get to vote.  I had signed up too late to get any of the "cool" jobs, a sentiment that was probably all over my face when Ms. Howard suggested that I'd be a good fit for the role.  I'm surprised that I even remember that exchange, especially since I found the entire mock-government experience that followed to be incredibly boring (the poor village attorney's office was crammed in a dark basement somewhere--meanwhile, somewhere more fun, Lauren got her name printed on a real license plate.  I didn't even get to vote!).

And now I want to be an attorney?  Working in public interest, where my office will most likely be crammed in some narrow hallway in the darkest reaches of the ugliest building?

I have always liked to argue--my parents can vouch for that.  And supposedly before I got to be too smart[-assed] they could get to me do whatever they asked just by telling me, with a very serious face, that something was a "rule."  Maybe I was the dumbest toddler on the planet, or maybe I was just born with a healthy respect for the law.

Either way, here I am, trying to narrow down my list of schools to apply to once the applications become available in late August or September.  Right now I'm considering 14 different schools--if I apply to all of them, that's $881 in application fees.  Eek! (Also, if you're crazy and the $1 bothers you like it bothers me, Wisconsin-Madison is the cause, at $56.  But at least they're not $100 like Northwestern.  In fact Wisconsin is one of the cheapest, after University of Illinois, which is $0, and Indiana-Bloomington, which is $50).   

I'm limiting myself to schools in the Midwest, but even then, there are a lot of good choices here.  There's the top-notch "reach" schools (UChicago, Michigan, Northwestern), but then a lot of other universities (Wisconsin, Minnesota, U of I, Indiana, Iowa...) have great programs and could be an excellent fit.  I have a lot of considering to do.  It helps a lot, though, knowing that this is something that, despite my former disdain, I really really really want to do.

Trying to Write a Story-Shaped Personal Statement

“I like things to be story-shaped.” The unnamed narrator in Neil Gaimon’s short story, “The Flints of Memory Lane”  (in Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders) begins this way.  He proceeds to describe what he deems a very unsatisfactory ghost story, the only ghost story he has ever lived: he once saw an oddly-dressed woman under a remote street lamp and asked her if she was looking for someone--her only response was a terrifying smile.  He left her there, heart thumping in fear, and turned to find her vanished, leaving him with nothing but the memory of her smile and the terror that followed.  That’s it.  The narrator laments, “I wish there was more...anything that would give some sense of closure to the story, anything that would make it story-shaped...”

The irony is that in claiming he has no story to tell, in great detail, he tells a rather effective story.  It has a ghost, even.  

I, too, like things to be story shaped.  A beginning with a prompt, a middle with some action and perhaps a few plot twists, and an end where finally everything makes perfect sense.  For example...

THE BEGINNING: A young lady goes to high school and gets the grades she needs to go to a prestigious college.  She also develops a passion for service.  People think she’s religious, which isn’t entirely true, but she doesn’t mind--she finds fulfillment in accomplishing things that help others.   

THE MIDDLE: Our young lady does pretty well in college, too, and continues volunteering when she can.  She doesn’t really think about story-shapedness too much--she’s busy studying for midterms and organizing a fundraiser and learning that social services are best performed through grassroots organizing, or leveling the playing field through affirmative action, or holding people accountable, or something. Based on her interests from the beginning, she decides to join the Peace Corps and let everything fall into place from there. 

Cue the adventures and plot twists.   

Things do not go precisely as she plans, of course, but that is part of the adventure, right? (right?!).  One thing leads to the next--abroad, she uncovers the secret to her later life back home.  Her subsequent employment is fascinating and meaningful and step by step she works towards her goals until... 

THE END...she lives happily ever after, filling two clean white pages with the perfectly shaped words to gain admittance to one of the most prestigious law schools in the country.

OK, I lied.  This is not an example of story-shapedness.  It’s supposed to arc nicely from humble beginnings, to heart-wrenching adventure, to “Admitted!  With a scholarship!”  There’s some bullshit packed in around the middle and the end is completely fabricated (to round out the edges, you understand), and it still doesn’t make a good story!  I don’t even have an unsatisfactory ghost to add some excitement!

Apparently the pieces don’t just fall into place, and the real bullshit is trying to make it story-shaped. Back to the drawing table...