Dear Law School

Dear Law School,

I am not a cock-eyed optimist by any means. In fact, my glass is usually half-empty and I like it that way. But little by little you are wearing me down. Like when you give away scholarships for those working in public interest positions, and they inexplicably go to people who don’t have jobs lined up; who drive Mercedes; who have never volunteered anything but their opinion; who didn’t even meet all the criteria listed on the form.

And then there are my friends, people who used to be social workers, who have volunteered at inner city summer camps and clinics and who knows what else, who actually want to make a difference. Who know that being poor isn’t something to be ashamed of, and there are a lot of honest people who need help. Who could actually use the money to pay their expenses, because they don’t live in a fancy condo in the good side of town, financed by their parents.

You make me sad. Part of the reason I hate you, law school, is because it’s not about how smart you are, or how you work. It’s about who you know on what committee, or who your dad has lunch with.

So I sit, and listen to you talk about the limo you are renting for law prom, and make fun of people who live in trailers and that guy with the moobs, and decide not to go to class tomorrow.

Love,
Erica