It’s
time
for
my
annual
(or
semi-annual,
if
you
have
to
take
the
February
bar
for
whatever
reason)
rant
about
the
bar
exam.
I
won’t
say
a
peep
about
the
disaster
that
was
the
February
California
Bar
Exam.
That
prompted
the
resignation
of
the
bar’s
executive
director.
Suffice
it
to
say
that
the
drubbing
the
bar
has
taken
from
every
corner
about
its
misfires
would
seem
to
ensure
that
the
various
FUBARS
won’t
happen
again,
at
least
hopefully
not
any
time
soon.
I
have
only
one
rule
for
bar
examinees:
STFU.
What
do
I
mean?
Exactly
that.
Gag
yourself
if
you
are
tempted
to
get
into
any
kind
of
discussion
about
any
part
of
the
exam
and
how
you
answered
the
questions,
whether
they
are
multistate
or
essays
or
performance.
It’s
hard
enough
just
getting
through
the
exam
without
questioning
yourself
as
to
how
you
answered,
whether
you
missed
issues,
or
saw
issues
that
others
didn’t.
Do
not
under
any
circumstances
discuss
the
exam
or
any
part
of
the
exam
with
anyone
else,
whether
that
person
graduated
at
the
top
of
your
class
or
somewhere
below.
And
I
mean
anyone
else.
The
worst
thing
is
to
have
someone
discuss
very
confidently
how
he
answered
a
question
or
spotted
an
issue
in
a
particular
way
and
you
didn’t.
Don’t
assume
that
he’s
right
and
you’re
wrong.
Braggadocio
doesn’t
equate
to
bar
passage.
STFU
during
exam
breaks
(no
need
to
increase
your
insecurity
level
which
is
already
close
to
exploding)
and
definitely
STFU
after
the
exam
is
over
for
obvious
reasons:
it’s
too
late
to
do
anything
(not
that
you
could
have
necessarily
done
any
more
studying
during
those
breaks),
and
you
don’t
need
to
spend
however
many
months
you
have
until
the
results
in
deep
depression.
The
die
has
been
cast.
If
you
happen
to
be
in
the
presence
of
anyone
who
starts
to
discuss
the
exam,
run,
don’t
walk,
in
any
direction.
There’s
no
way
to
know
that
he’s
right
and
you’re
wrong,
and
isn’t
it
a
case
of
assuming
facts
not
in
evidence?
Let
it
go.
Don’t
perseverate.
Even
those
of
us
who
took
the
exam
decades
ago
can
still
remember
the
rampant
insecurity
felt
once
the
exam
ended.
Just
ask
any
dinosaur
lawyer.
Remember
when
we
were
kids
(regardless
of
when
that
was)
we
were
told
to
play
nicely
with
others,
“no
kicking,
no
slapping,
no
biting.”
Most
of
us
have
remembered
that
admonition
although
it’s
hard
when
opposing
counsel
tries
our
patience.
Nonetheless,
we
refrain.
But
one
Biglaw
summer
associate
did
not.
(I
am
most
definitely
not
making
this
up.)
It’s
hard
to
fathom
how
and
why
this
woman
decided
to
get
her
teeth
(literally)
into
the
summer
associate
program.
WTF?
If
you
are
making
a
positive
impression
in
the
hopes
of
landing
a
Biglaw
gig
after
law
school,
this
was
a
very
strange
way
to
go
about
it.
This
was
not
just
a
single
bite,
but
in
the
double
digits.
Was
the
associate
pissed
because
there
weren’t
enough
snacks?
Was
she
irritated
because
she
didn’t
have
enough
chances
to
be
wined
and
dined?
(Even
Biglaw
firms
are
apparently
cutting
back
on
the
usual
summer
frolics.)
Was
she
a
literally
starving
law
student
who
salivated
at
opportunities
due
to
her
undiagnosed
hypoglycemia?
Has
anyone
ever
heard
of
this
before?
Where
does
this
conduct
fall
in
the
panoply
of
bizarro
summer
associate
stories?
So,
in
a
classic
case
of
one
who
had
bitten
off
(literally)
more
than
she
could
chew,
she
was
let
go.
Should
she
receive
a
breakfast
of
“chompions”
award?
(Sorry,
Kurt
Vonnegut.
I
couldn’t
resist.)
Lastly,
what
struck
me
most
about
the
terrible
tragedies
in
the
Texas
Hill
Country
was
not
just
the
dreadful
loss
of
lives
and
of
those
still
missing,
but
how
people
came
together
to
do
what
they
could
to
help
in
so
many
varied
ways
too
numerous
to
count.
I
don’t
think
anyone
asked
about
political
affiliations,
how
they
had
voted
in
2024,
whether
they
were
Republican,
Democrat,
MAGA,
or
any
other
persuasion
of
whatever
kind.
People
from
across
the
border,
trained
firefighters
as
well
as
volunteers,
helped
as
well.
There
was
one
goal
that
all
of
the
people
had
in
this
tragedy
and
that
was
to
help
in
whatever
ways
possible.
There
were
no
litmus
or
loyalty
tests,
just
neighbors,
friends,
and
strangers
who
saw
the
incredible
need
and
pitched
in.
Is
there
a
lesson
in
this
for
all
of
us?
Jill
Switzer
has
been
an
active
member
of
the
State
Bar
of
California
for
over
40
years.
She
remembers
practicing
law
in
a
kinder,
gentler
time.
She’s
had
a
diverse
legal
career,
including
stints
as
a
deputy
district
attorney,
a
solo
practice,
and
several
senior
in-house
gigs.
She
now
mediates
full-time,
which
gives
her
the
opportunity
to
see
dinosaurs,
millennials,
and
those
in-between
interact
—
it’s
not
always
civil.
You
can
reach
her
by
email
at
[email protected].