it's bar time!
so the bar is in....3 days? i think. and everyone else it seems is freaking out and studying. or something. i just can't bring myself to do it. tho my intel about people freaking out and studying is more from reading a couple of blogs and stuff, b/c it turns out that most of my friends seem to be on my page too. so that's good.
i'm getting worried, but i still haven't written out a single essay answer all summer. keep in mind we're supposed to do about 4 of these per day. ugh. so i'm a bit terrified, but also a bit....well, it's ok. i'm more worried about worrying about things like getting lost on my way to the civic center and if there will be enough parking and what to eat for lunch or where to get breakfast. or my biggest concern--how closely are they really looking at your pants to see if they're bona fide suit pants and not just elastic-waisted black pants that you usually wear to bed.
anyways, the following was forwarded to me by a friend and i found it absolutely hysterical. like i laughed more than probably anyone else will laugh at reading it. but oh how i loved it. so i'm sharing it with you.
and i'm going to put it on the page so you don't have to click a link, but since i'm now a terribly paranoid lawyer-type, let me make it very clear that it came from here and someone else gets all the credit for it.
Trials and Tribulations:What to Expect WhileTaking the Bar Exam
By JEREMY BLACHMAN
Special to THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
July 13, 2006
True story: my assigned seat for the New York State bar exam last summer -- seat 1734 at Pier 90, if you're curious -- wasn't far from one of the bathrooms. I used it before the test. It wasn't anything special -- no hand soap, no paper towels, a not-entirely-pleasant smell -- but it was all in functioning order. I didn't think much of it. But at some point during the exam, I heard a crash coming from that direction. People looked up for an instant, but no one really reacted. A few hours later, I went to use the bathroom again. The stall door was no longer attached to the stall. I suppose it could have broken on its own, but I prefer to imagine some nervous test-taker came across a particularly thorny set of commercial paper questions, panicked, and in a fit of frustration, went to the bathroom and ripped the door right off its hinges. A little while later, I noticed a uniformed official checking out the bathroom and calling for backup. I don't know if they ever found out who did it. Or, more importantly, if he (or she?) ended up passing the exam.
If only the bathroom assailant had been wearing a catheter, the damage would have been avoided. Seriously. You hear rumors in law school about people wearing catheters to the bar exam so they don't lose precious minutes going to the bathroom. If only he (or she!) had been wearing a catheter, perhaps the stall would still be in one piece.
But no. The assailant couldn't have been wearing a catheter. How do I know this? Because you're not allowed to bring a catheter to the New York state bar exam. It's not on the list of approved items. The examiners are very specific about it. A gallon-sized clear plastic food storage-type bag containing your admission ticket, a government-issued photo ID, your wallet, tissues, pens, number two pencils, a beverage in a plastic container or juice box, a quiet snack or lunch, and hygiene products. No catheter. Unless that counts as a hygiene product. Maybe it should. I have a hunch what they mean by hygiene products -- males probably don't have to worry about them -- but everyone in the test center went to law school, so of course we're all going to wonder where they'd draw the line. What about a couple of q-tips so you can clean your ears in the middle of the exam? A toothbrush? A hair dryer? It says only the snack has to be quiet, not the hygiene products.
New York test-takers are pretty lucky when it comes to the quiet snack. All it needs to be is quiet. Pennsylvania requires that snacks be small -- they give gum and mints as examples -- and unwrapped. It makes me feel sorry for all those folks in Harrisburg who, when hunger hits six hours into the multiple-choice section, have no recourse other than to reach into their pockets for a handful of warm Hershey's Kisses. Other states have fun rules too. Virginia requires test-takers to wear suits (or a tie and jacket) to the exam. And it encourages soft-soled footwear, like tennis shoes. Suits and sneakers: the classic grade-school prom costume. My first inclination was to think the soft-soled policy was for comfort. But this is Virginia, in July. If they wanted the test-takers to be comfortable, in the hundred-degree heat, the suit's a bigger problem than the tennis shoes.
The California Bar provides a list of twenty-three approved items, including "up to two pillows without cases," "silent analog watches, timers and clocks not measuring larger than 4x4 inches or smaller," and "ear plugs or plastic material normally associated with the sport of swimming." Huh? Is there a swimming section on the California bar exam? Maybe that's why so many people fail. Or maybe they fail because the questions are written by the same guy who wrote the "not measuring larger than 4x4 inches or smaller" clause. That leaves clocks measuring… exactly 4x4 inches? I guess so. It must stem from some episode in which a test taker tried to wheel in a "good luck" grandfather clock. Or something.
Even putting aside the hours of enjoyment you can have packing your test-day clear plastic storage bag, preparing for the bar exam isn't a heck of a lot of fun. Most people say the worst part is doing hundreds and hundreds of practice multiple choice questions, but I think the worst part is how doing those multiple choice questions makes you feel about the world. Nothing good ever happens to the people in practice bar exam questions. Everyone who crosses the street gets hit by a car, every doctor botches the surgery, parachutes never open, contracts never get fulfilled, anyone who uses a lawnmower ends up in the hospital, as soon as you write a will your whole family dies, employee benefit plans never pay out their benefits, computers all get viruses, your friends are always intoxicated, stealing your farm equipment, and driving it into the barn, police search you all the time for no good reason, you can never find a good place to hide your weapons, banks never recognize a signature as a forgery, and the forger always flees the country.
Not that it's any better for criminals. Arsonists never burn down what they mean to, thieves always end up murdering someone, conspirators can never convince their fellow criminals to back out, no one is ever given access to their lawyers before questioning, and spring guns go off in everyone's garage, each time killing the neighbor kid who just meant to return the tools he'd borrowed.
On the other hand, the best thing about taking the bar exam is that eventually you get to stop studying. The morning of the exam, I got off the subway and walked over to my test site with some ripped-out pages from the Conviser Mini Review (how is a 900-page book a mini-anything?), trying to cram some last-minute knowledge into my head. I realized as I was about to cross the street that the review pages weren't on the list of approved items (unless I was going to eat them, quietly). So I threw them out. And, of course, they landed on top of pages and pages of other people's study notes. If you're taking the bar exam later this month, and you want free review materials, just go find some garbage cans on the west side at nine in the morning on July 25th. More than you'll ever need.
But I can do even better than telling you where to find review materials. I can give you the answers, despite the stern warning against it. One of the first things you hear when you enter the bar exam test site is a disembodied voice telling you that "revealing any of the answers in any written, oral, electronic, or other medium is a violation of the copyright and grounds for failure of the exam and disqualification in the character and fitness portion of the evaluation." I understand they want to keep the questions secret. But the answers? What good are the answers without the questions?
I've decided to violate the rules. The answers to last year's New York bar exam were, in no particular order: A. B. C. D. A. A. B. C. D. D. D. D. C. B. B. C. D. A. A. D. B. C. A. D. So there you go.
I promise they're as accurate as the Bar/Bri lecturer who thinks he knows what the essay topics will be. Or the tarot card reader who sees "easements, lots of easements" in your future. A few final words: Don't wear a catheter. Unwrap your gum. Make sure you bring your swimming goggles. And you're all ready to pass the bar exam. Good luck.
i'm getting worried, but i still haven't written out a single essay answer all summer. keep in mind we're supposed to do about 4 of these per day. ugh. so i'm a bit terrified, but also a bit....well, it's ok. i'm more worried about worrying about things like getting lost on my way to the civic center and if there will be enough parking and what to eat for lunch or where to get breakfast. or my biggest concern--how closely are they really looking at your pants to see if they're bona fide suit pants and not just elastic-waisted black pants that you usually wear to bed.
anyways, the following was forwarded to me by a friend and i found it absolutely hysterical. like i laughed more than probably anyone else will laugh at reading it. but oh how i loved it. so i'm sharing it with you.
and i'm going to put it on the page so you don't have to click a link, but since i'm now a terribly paranoid lawyer-type, let me make it very clear that it came from here and someone else gets all the credit for it.
Trials and Tribulations:What to Expect WhileTaking the Bar Exam
By JEREMY BLACHMAN
Special to THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
July 13, 2006
True story: my assigned seat for the New York State bar exam last summer -- seat 1734 at Pier 90, if you're curious -- wasn't far from one of the bathrooms. I used it before the test. It wasn't anything special -- no hand soap, no paper towels, a not-entirely-pleasant smell -- but it was all in functioning order. I didn't think much of it. But at some point during the exam, I heard a crash coming from that direction. People looked up for an instant, but no one really reacted. A few hours later, I went to use the bathroom again. The stall door was no longer attached to the stall. I suppose it could have broken on its own, but I prefer to imagine some nervous test-taker came across a particularly thorny set of commercial paper questions, panicked, and in a fit of frustration, went to the bathroom and ripped the door right off its hinges. A little while later, I noticed a uniformed official checking out the bathroom and calling for backup. I don't know if they ever found out who did it. Or, more importantly, if he (or she?) ended up passing the exam.
If only the bathroom assailant had been wearing a catheter, the damage would have been avoided. Seriously. You hear rumors in law school about people wearing catheters to the bar exam so they don't lose precious minutes going to the bathroom. If only he (or she!) had been wearing a catheter, perhaps the stall would still be in one piece.
But no. The assailant couldn't have been wearing a catheter. How do I know this? Because you're not allowed to bring a catheter to the New York state bar exam. It's not on the list of approved items. The examiners are very specific about it. A gallon-sized clear plastic food storage-type bag containing your admission ticket, a government-issued photo ID, your wallet, tissues, pens, number two pencils, a beverage in a plastic container or juice box, a quiet snack or lunch, and hygiene products. No catheter. Unless that counts as a hygiene product. Maybe it should. I have a hunch what they mean by hygiene products -- males probably don't have to worry about them -- but everyone in the test center went to law school, so of course we're all going to wonder where they'd draw the line. What about a couple of q-tips so you can clean your ears in the middle of the exam? A toothbrush? A hair dryer? It says only the snack has to be quiet, not the hygiene products.
New York test-takers are pretty lucky when it comes to the quiet snack. All it needs to be is quiet. Pennsylvania requires that snacks be small -- they give gum and mints as examples -- and unwrapped. It makes me feel sorry for all those folks in Harrisburg who, when hunger hits six hours into the multiple-choice section, have no recourse other than to reach into their pockets for a handful of warm Hershey's Kisses. Other states have fun rules too. Virginia requires test-takers to wear suits (or a tie and jacket) to the exam. And it encourages soft-soled footwear, like tennis shoes. Suits and sneakers: the classic grade-school prom costume. My first inclination was to think the soft-soled policy was for comfort. But this is Virginia, in July. If they wanted the test-takers to be comfortable, in the hundred-degree heat, the suit's a bigger problem than the tennis shoes.
The California Bar provides a list of twenty-three approved items, including "up to two pillows without cases," "silent analog watches, timers and clocks not measuring larger than 4x4 inches or smaller," and "ear plugs or plastic material normally associated with the sport of swimming." Huh? Is there a swimming section on the California bar exam? Maybe that's why so many people fail. Or maybe they fail because the questions are written by the same guy who wrote the "not measuring larger than 4x4 inches or smaller" clause. That leaves clocks measuring… exactly 4x4 inches? I guess so. It must stem from some episode in which a test taker tried to wheel in a "good luck" grandfather clock. Or something.
Even putting aside the hours of enjoyment you can have packing your test-day clear plastic storage bag, preparing for the bar exam isn't a heck of a lot of fun. Most people say the worst part is doing hundreds and hundreds of practice multiple choice questions, but I think the worst part is how doing those multiple choice questions makes you feel about the world. Nothing good ever happens to the people in practice bar exam questions. Everyone who crosses the street gets hit by a car, every doctor botches the surgery, parachutes never open, contracts never get fulfilled, anyone who uses a lawnmower ends up in the hospital, as soon as you write a will your whole family dies, employee benefit plans never pay out their benefits, computers all get viruses, your friends are always intoxicated, stealing your farm equipment, and driving it into the barn, police search you all the time for no good reason, you can never find a good place to hide your weapons, banks never recognize a signature as a forgery, and the forger always flees the country.
Not that it's any better for criminals. Arsonists never burn down what they mean to, thieves always end up murdering someone, conspirators can never convince their fellow criminals to back out, no one is ever given access to their lawyers before questioning, and spring guns go off in everyone's garage, each time killing the neighbor kid who just meant to return the tools he'd borrowed.
On the other hand, the best thing about taking the bar exam is that eventually you get to stop studying. The morning of the exam, I got off the subway and walked over to my test site with some ripped-out pages from the Conviser Mini Review (how is a 900-page book a mini-anything?), trying to cram some last-minute knowledge into my head. I realized as I was about to cross the street that the review pages weren't on the list of approved items (unless I was going to eat them, quietly). So I threw them out. And, of course, they landed on top of pages and pages of other people's study notes. If you're taking the bar exam later this month, and you want free review materials, just go find some garbage cans on the west side at nine in the morning on July 25th. More than you'll ever need.
But I can do even better than telling you where to find review materials. I can give you the answers, despite the stern warning against it. One of the first things you hear when you enter the bar exam test site is a disembodied voice telling you that "revealing any of the answers in any written, oral, electronic, or other medium is a violation of the copyright and grounds for failure of the exam and disqualification in the character and fitness portion of the evaluation." I understand they want to keep the questions secret. But the answers? What good are the answers without the questions?
I've decided to violate the rules. The answers to last year's New York bar exam were, in no particular order: A. B. C. D. A. A. B. C. D. D. D. D. C. B. B. C. D. A. A. D. B. C. A. D. So there you go.
I promise they're as accurate as the Bar/Bri lecturer who thinks he knows what the essay topics will be. Or the tarot card reader who sees "easements, lots of easements" in your future. A few final words: Don't wear a catheter. Unwrap your gum. Make sure you bring your swimming goggles. And you're all ready to pass the bar exam. Good luck.
posted by laura at 8:36 PM
1 Comments:
I enjoyed that WAY too much :) Thanks for posting it.
sandy
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