I am at a hydropower conference in Portland, Maine. At the same facility, there are a large number of 20 somethings, wandering around, carrying only their driver’s licenses.
They are taking the Bar exam.
Just like I did, in Buffalo, in 1983.
What a nightmare. I knew one thing– I did not want to have to take it over. I never studied harder.
After the exam, another law student and I recreated the six, six-part New York essay questions during our drive back to Syracuse. He was very smart, having graduated third in our class. Based on that exercise, I was reasonably confident I had been right on the law in my answers.
Back then, we waited from the end of July until into late November/early December to get the results in the mail. The wait was excruciating. During this long wait, word got out that Bob and I had recreated the exam questions. Twice I got panicked, late night and, in one case a drunken phone call asking me what the answer was to, for example, the fourth part of the third question.
Seeing these kids on their midday break takes me back. One was looking at notes– too late, now. Another was doing yoga in the lobby. A few were smoking outside. I avoided speaking with them, as I did not want to intrude.
I have that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and know I will dream tonight about taking the Bar exam.