My dad and I had a fight today. We were playing tennis and I was doing really well until we started a match--the exact same thing that happened yesterday in my class. All of a sudden, everything was going out, and my serve was basically nonexistent. So I got frustrated. And then (bad idea) I started thinking about how miserable school is this year and how sick I am of going to a math math math school.
So I started crying in the middle of a game after I screwed up yet another shot. My dad got angry at my frustration and told me I needed to chill and lower my expectations. That does NOT help me. I have expectations based on what I have been able to achieve in the past. It's not like a totally arbitrary thing.
I finally made him let us go home, and he yelled at me on the way to the car (the people at the court diagonal to us looked over and apparently decided I wasn't being abused or anything) and took us home. I ran upstairs and he talked to my mom for a few minutes before coming up.
When he came up to apologize (and let me apologize, which I did) I tried to explain all my issues with school and stuff this year. I pointed out that the three or four big things that bothered me were just made worse by the zillions of little things that were bothering me.
He agreed, obviously. And since he did, I decided not to go off on a rant about how much my mom adds to my stress. Smart move, huh?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Trying to think deep thoughts.
For years now, I've wanted to be a lawyer. I do enjoy following legal news, and I'm on the debate and Model UN teams. I took a criminal law class and loved it. I'm taking Criminology now and loving it. But I don't know if actually being a lawyer is for me.
In December, I was one of the attorneys for a court-martial committee at PMUNC. I was so excited to get into the committee in the first place, and I was downright ecstatic when I found out that I would be a prosecutor. I then went to the conference and hated every minute of every committee session. I'm still going over the experience in my head trying to figure out whether I just didn't like being a lawyer or whether I was bothered by factors specific to the conference of the case itself.
There were so many little things that really bothered me about the whole thing. I hated having to push for the death penalty or life imprisonment for a defendant that I thought was innocent (or at least, not intentionally responsible for the crime). And then, one of my fellow prosecutors was a real prick, to put it nicely. There was another (younger) kid from his high school on the prosecution team as well, who basically seemed to be the prick's protégé. The fourth prosecutor was nice enough, but he was a senior already committed to Columbia (for sports) and didn't give a damn about winning. Of course, the prick and his protégé also had hard-core mock trial experience, and, had we been facing off one-on-one, would have beat the crap out of me. My school didn't start things going for mock trial until after the conference and I didn't make the team last year (not surprising. I was a freshman.). So they were good, they knew they were good, and they thought I was completely inept. I wasn't even allowed to argue with him and point out his (many, IMO) logical fallacies since he was on my team.
My ineptitude was probably real, too--I didn't practice examining any witnesses, and I basically had no idea what I was doing. In his background guide, the chair had stressed that we wouldn't be following real trial procedure. Then, we followed real trial procedure. Imagine my surprise. I hated the feeling of fighting against the current the whole way, knowing I had absolutely no chance of getting an award.
And then there's the whole I-was-exhausted explanation. I wasn't getting enough sleep, I wasn't eating normal foods, I knew that a pile of homework awaited me on Sunday evening when I got home, and I missed my family.
All of the problems I had with the conference and the committee probably contributed to the general unhappiness I had when I was there, but as of now, I think that the cause was a combination of the above plus one actual issue I had.
My favorite part of both debate and Model UN is when I get to argue back and forth with someone. I love it when you ask the perfect question and the kid has no idea how to answer you, so he says something that gives you the perfect followup. And then you sit down and your partner smiles and says Good job as he gets up to make a speech and then you bounce happily all the way through it.
I really missed that. There was no direct back-and-forth, you couldn't one-up people who agreed with you, and you had no chance to really out-logic the people you were trying to beat.
So I've decided that maybe being a trial lawyer isn't for me.
(More to come on this--maybe tomorrow.)
In December, I was one of the attorneys for a court-martial committee at PMUNC. I was so excited to get into the committee in the first place, and I was downright ecstatic when I found out that I would be a prosecutor. I then went to the conference and hated every minute of every committee session. I'm still going over the experience in my head trying to figure out whether I just didn't like being a lawyer or whether I was bothered by factors specific to the conference of the case itself.
There were so many little things that really bothered me about the whole thing. I hated having to push for the death penalty or life imprisonment for a defendant that I thought was innocent (or at least, not intentionally responsible for the crime). And then, one of my fellow prosecutors was a real prick, to put it nicely. There was another (younger) kid from his high school on the prosecution team as well, who basically seemed to be the prick's protégé. The fourth prosecutor was nice enough, but he was a senior already committed to Columbia (for sports) and didn't give a damn about winning. Of course, the prick and his protégé also had hard-core mock trial experience, and, had we been facing off one-on-one, would have beat the crap out of me. My school didn't start things going for mock trial until after the conference and I didn't make the team last year (not surprising. I was a freshman.). So they were good, they knew they were good, and they thought I was completely inept. I wasn't even allowed to argue with him and point out his (many, IMO) logical fallacies since he was on my team.
My ineptitude was probably real, too--I didn't practice examining any witnesses, and I basically had no idea what I was doing. In his background guide, the chair had stressed that we wouldn't be following real trial procedure. Then, we followed real trial procedure. Imagine my surprise. I hated the feeling of fighting against the current the whole way, knowing I had absolutely no chance of getting an award.
And then there's the whole I-was-exhausted explanation. I wasn't getting enough sleep, I wasn't eating normal foods, I knew that a pile of homework awaited me on Sunday evening when I got home, and I missed my family.
All of the problems I had with the conference and the committee probably contributed to the general unhappiness I had when I was there, but as of now, I think that the cause was a combination of the above plus one actual issue I had.
My favorite part of both debate and Model UN is when I get to argue back and forth with someone. I love it when you ask the perfect question and the kid has no idea how to answer you, so he says something that gives you the perfect followup. And then you sit down and your partner smiles and says Good job as he gets up to make a speech and then you bounce happily all the way through it.
I really missed that. There was no direct back-and-forth, you couldn't one-up people who agreed with you, and you had no chance to really out-logic the people you were trying to beat.
So I've decided that maybe being a trial lawyer isn't for me.
(More to come on this--maybe tomorrow.)
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
mmm.
They are over. The midterms are done with. The grades are in. I have time to sit, to reflect, and to simply do nothing, let the mind wander.
I'm thrilled with one. Happy with one. Oh-so-slightly disappointed with two. And still left waiting for the sole grade remaining. I expect it to be solid.
And now, with all the time I have to reflect, I shall.
The tests were meant as a tool, both for us and for the teachers. We were promised that discrepancies between teachers and classes and other factors beyond our control would not be allowed to hurt us. The teachers complained, the administration cackled behind closed doors, and those caught in the middle resigned themselves to sarcasm.
As students, we had no choice. Realistically, there was no other way to do it. But the idealist that sits inside my head protests. A vote! she cries. Democracy! The realism takes over though, and I have almost--but not completely--convinced myself that these tests did have some value to them.
Cumulative knowledge is good. Long-term memory is good. It wasn't the tests themselves that bothered me, it was the indignity of the way they were administered.
But for now, I'm just trying to actually learn the material covered in class, rather than shoving facts into my brain for ten seconds.
At least, I can try to relax.
I'm thrilled with one. Happy with one. Oh-so-slightly disappointed with two. And still left waiting for the sole grade remaining. I expect it to be solid.
And now, with all the time I have to reflect, I shall.
The tests were meant as a tool, both for us and for the teachers. We were promised that discrepancies between teachers and classes and other factors beyond our control would not be allowed to hurt us. The teachers complained, the administration cackled behind closed doors, and those caught in the middle resigned themselves to sarcasm.
As students, we had no choice. Realistically, there was no other way to do it. But the idealist that sits inside my head protests. A vote! she cries. Democracy! The realism takes over though, and I have almost--but not completely--convinced myself that these tests did have some value to them.
Cumulative knowledge is good. Long-term memory is good. It wasn't the tests themselves that bothered me, it was the indignity of the way they were administered.
But for now, I'm just trying to actually learn the material covered in class, rather than shoving facts into my brain for ten seconds.
At least, I can try to relax.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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