VIRGINIA LAW WEEKLY

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VIRGINIA LAW WEEKLY
Friday, 4 December 2009
Exams: It’s Not What You Know, It’s Where
You Don’t Know It
Upon being informed this
is my last column of the semester,
it occurred to me that,
Chris Mincher ’11
Columnist
more than likely,
exams would be
starting soon. Admittedly,
some
might be more tuned in to the
academic calendar, but that’s
only because these people are
totally freaking themselves out
about studying. Me? Studying
doesn’t stress me out. Why
would it? It’s not like professors
are critiquing how well or
long I study—hell, no one really
even knows whether I bother
to study or not! So that part’s
easy. The tests, on the other
hand . . . those sometimes give
me trouble.
People talk of the intense
exam atmosphere: the rapid
clicking of laptop keys, the
hastened shuffling through
papers, the bursts of profanity,
the choked-back sobs, the
wrenching screams of those
who choose to fail with honor
by submitting a death poem in
lieu of an exam and committing
somewhat inefficient seppuku
with their Hogan & Hartson
promotional pens. But the feeling
I derive from lecture halls is
far from acute panic caused by
the high-pressure environment.
Instead, for whatever reason,
being in a classroom tends to
quickly lull me into a fanciful
world of sleepy daydreams,
one where I’m roused every
five minutes to check my email.
This may have helped make
the semester go by quickly,
but it is decidedly unhelpful
during the few hours I have to
complete a test. As such, I’ve
had to search out new venues
in which to take exams, considering
the many, many factors
(other than “lack of legal
knowledge”) that I have cited
frequently to employers in excusing
away disturbingly poor
performance. Here, I share
with you some tips on prime
test-taking locales that have
been oddly underutilized by
the student body so far. This is
perhaps because they are not
technically designated examtaking
areas; but how can you
tell what you’re doing is wrong
if there’s no honor pledge in the
vicinity to remind you of it?
The first thing to consider
in choosing an exam space is
whether your surroundings
will compel fast work. I’ve
surveyed the law school, and,
for me, pretty much the entire
complex does not fulfill this requirement.
On the other hand,
some of the most rapid work
I’ve ever done has been completed
in the front seat of my
car. Sitting there, parked directly
outside whatever venue
at which the work is overdue,
has, through the years, inspired
many different levels
of creative efficiency. With a
laptop crammed up against
the steering wheel, my cup of
coffee sloshing as I continually
bump my knee up against
it, and stacks of disorganized
papers hastily shoved up on
the dashboard, certain truisms
take hold: 1) I’m out of time; 2)
I need to hand over something,
anything at all, really; and 3)
if I fail miserably, I probably
needed to adopt more modest
life ambitions anyway.
Whereas a little informed
stream-of-consciousness can
usually help pad out a finished
product, law school exams
require a lot more. These
realizations help open the
floodgates, turning a stream
of consciousness into a full-on
debris-flow-of-consciousness,
carrying damaged remnants of
mangled legal information that
surges unceremoniously onto
the page. Plus, taking a final in
the front seat of my car means
that, even if the test is really going
poorly, I can at least enjoy
blasting my Whitesnake best-of
CD as loud as I want while applying
for jobs at RadioShack.
Of course, staying inside the
Law School has the benefit of
extra time for mindlessly typing
whatever pops into your
head. The downside, however,
is that one then has to deal with
other students taking their exams
as well. Some prefer to
take their exams in Slaughter
Hall, because, they say, there
are fewer people in the rooms.
Of course there are: Walking
to Slaughter can take as long
as two minutes—90 seconds of
which immediately become a
time advantage to competitors
who rush into the first Withers-
Brown lecture hall they see.
I prefer to one-up even these
folks, by taking my exam directly
at the foot of the exam
distribution table. When they
hand me the test, I plop down
Indian-style right there on the
ground and get to work, saving
as much as 15 or 20 seconds
that would otherwise be wasted
finding a room. Not only that,
but immediately beginning
your exam from the spot they
hand it to you provides a competitive
advantage, as others
sprinting off to get started may
trip over you, causing them, at
best, serious injury, or, barring
that, at least 25 more seconds of
lost time. Ha! Suckers.
Yes, being underfoot in the
middle of the exam line may be
somewhat annoying to others.
But there certainly are ways to
be more obnoxious: Few things
are more agitating during an
exam than those who believe
the primary purpose of the time
is to indulge in a four-hour
meal. I actually have a strategy
for the ever-present potato-chip
consumption, letting it set a
cadence to my typing; bobbing
my head and hitting the keys
rhythmically to the beat of percussive
chomping, chewing,
and lip-smacking, I can usually
groove my way to a high word
count. But I have a harder time
dealing with the sizzle of chicken
breasts cooking on a portable
George Foreman USB iGrill
(yes, this exists: http://www.
thinkgeek.com/stuff/looflirpa/igrill.shtml),
or the overpowering
smell of someone’s
mother’s homemade chili simmering
in a crockpot plugged in
right next to their laptop. (Turn
it on when the exam starts, and
it’s ready to serve right around
the fourth hour of the exam!) I
don’t even know where to begin
with that fellow who set up his
own personal hot buffet.
Even worse than the sounds
and smells when students turn
their exams into wild, outof-control,
Roman-orgy-style
photo by Allen Abrams ’10
Good enough for reading the Law Weekly; good enough for an exam.
binge-and-purge feasts is the
inevitable hunger it causes in
other test-takers. It can be a
devastating distraction during
the exam to realize that you’ve
unwittingly crumpled up and
eaten the essay questions before
completing them. That’s
why I suggest taking your exam
crouched under the soup table
in Sidley Austin Café. No matter
where you go for your exam,
someone’s going to be eating
something, so you might as well
just surround yourself with it.
And when your stomach starts
to growl, there’s always a ladlefull
of piping hot clam chowder
within arm’s reach.
Of course, the aftereffects of
all that exam-time dining need
to be considered. Whether you
simply drank too much coffee
during the preceding allnighter
or your self-packed
smorgasbord has fueled an
intense stress-related, bowelrelated
emergency, nothing
bleeds more time from your
exam block than biology. Those
shrewd students who don’t
want to interrupt their exam to
answer the call of nature may
want to consider taking their
test in a bathroom stall. Other
benefits: somewhat more privacy,
and an endless supply of
notepaper.
People may think these ideas
are crazy. But you know what
I think is crazy? Re-reading all
those pages and pages of law
books that you’ve already read
before! Why not read something
new? The new Stephen
King novel got good reviews.
This week, I’ll be relaxed and
enjoying it, knowing that all
these venues will once and for
all solve all my exam-taking
woes.
email: cm7fa@virginia.edu
faculty quotes
F. Schauer: [A]nd thank you to
whomever keeps quoting me in
the Law Weekly. But the funniest
quote of the semester has come
from another professor, one who
teaches another Evidence section
and happens to be my partner/
girlfriend/whatever-you-callit-for-people-as-old-as-I-am.
She said in her class, “Why is he
quoted all the time and I am never
quoted? I live with the guy; trust
me, he’s not that funny.”
J. Moore: I am, by the way,
throwing out crazy options here
of what might take place. I do not
believe that last one will happen.
Nor any of the others, for that matter.
M. Collins: I am feeling much
better, not that you care. I figured
out what was wrong with me after
a couple of quick tests. This is
not a joke: I’m allergic to The New
York Times . . . to the newsprint!
Does anyone think this is actionable?
I’m up for a lawsuit and I’ve
always wanted to own a newspaper.
D. Brown: Note to self: Don’t
call the wife when you’re trying to
call the mistress.
M. Collins: If the park ranger
comes along and kicks out your
fire, that’s informal adjudication.
M. Gilbert: As it turns out, for
a lot of people, sex is a major life
activity.
K. Abrams: This is like a walk
of shame.
D. Brown: Just to cut down on
the whispering and the IMing,
yes, I am attempting to grow a
mustache. It’s for a group called
“Mustaches for Kids.” We’re on
Facebook; it’s totally legitimate. I
swear it’s not as pedophile-ish as
it sounds.
K. Abraham: Every once in a
while, a bird flies over and poops
on my head.
Student: I can’t think of an example
that wouldn’t be graphic . . .
K. Abrams: How do you think
I feel?
D. Brown: Being dressed better
than the professor—not a good
way to win points with this socalled
“blind grading” thing . . .
J. Cannon: You’re bringing rich
people here [to Charlottesville]
and they’re going to need affordable
housing people to make their
lives good.
J. Jeffries: (interrupted midclass
by mechanical noises from
an adjacent room) You’re not dean
for a year—no place to park, and
they shampoo your rugs when
they damn well want to.
Student: There are millions and
millions of people not in western
Europe or America that feel differently!
A. Simmons: But they don’t
write books in English.
J. Jeffries: No one would have
thought [separate black and white
schools] were equal! Helen Keller
wouldn’t have thought they were
equal!
M. Collins: If I remember correctly—and
I do . . .