Law School Grades Part I - A Measure of What You Know

At Rutgers the process for receiving law school grades is equivalent to some forms of gross torture. One at a time. With no notice of approximate posting dates. They come at random. Any time of the day. Any day. No one tells you when they will come.

Instead, at the moment of posting, an email is sent to you advising you of its presence. You've seen this email before. In your nightmares. It tells you the grade has been decided. It tells you it's available for your eyes. It tells you to sign on to view it.

Two choices.
1. Immediately sign on, in the presence of whomever is with you and your laptop in whatever location the nightmare has befallen you.
2. Or sit in terror while everyone frantically signs on.

Now maybe it would be better to wait until sitting in a quiet, private location where no one could see the disappointment on your face. Maybe it would be better to steal away where cries could not be heard. Maybe it would be better to refuse to look until the three years are over.

Maybe it would be better if they sent them all at once so you didn't have to do this four times.

In my mind, it only gets worse with time. I sign on immediately. The grade is what it is. I make a mental note. I can cope. Not everyone can be genius.

Yes, not everyone can be genius, I tell myself. In fact, there probably weren't that many A's. Maybe a few A-'s. Perhaps a B+ or two.

The distribution list. Part two of gross torture in law school. Provided to relieve you of any notions of the rest not rising to genius. A quick link to showing what everyone else achieves.

I click. I am a letter. I fit in right there, between those other letters. There are more A's than expected. An A+ in fact. I measure my worth in a moment. I am a grade. I belong here. This is how much I know. I will be scrutinized by this letter, converted into a number. I am a number.