While I was in Law School at Case Western University, I chose to not be part of the classic “study group”. My opinion at the time was that although some discussion of class assignments could be useful, it rarely happened. Rather, the case law study that was typically turned into a course outline prepared by the student was divided up among the group, so although you did get a copy of the outline, it may or may not have been well prepared by your cohorts and, in any event, you didn’t prepare most of it so its educational value hardly warranted the time engaged with the group. I used my skills derived from years of color coding HVAC systems at the University of Michigan (long other story), to create multicolor book briefing and extensive flash cards. [1] So, for my law school days I did my own work.
The one exception to this was Constitutional Law. This detour was prompted in part due to the obscurity of the subject matter in the absence of any real experience with other case law. In other words, to get a grip on constitutional it totally helped if you had an understanding of cases from other elements of the law. As a first semester first year course this was lacking.
Our little group of students didn’t do much in the way of other better organized groups. I’m really just guessing about that, but I was aware that we were not getting too far. As a matter of fact I do not recall that we ever produced that coveted, if not flawed, outline. As usual, I did most of my own study, created book briefs in living color and flash cards. I also lowered my standards sufficiently (or was mildly desperate?) that I purchased the Emanuels for Constitutional Law.
So what is an “Emanuel’s”? Essentially, it is the Cliff’s Notes for a law course. As such it too held most of the downsides of using Cliff’s in lieu of actually reading or studying the assignments. These course cheaters came in large paperback format roughly 14 inches tall by 9 inches wide and two inches thick. Hard to miss, this was a large paperback. I used it but was appropriately unimpressed. A further critique of the medium is not needed here.
Well, needless to say our little band of students was genuinely concerned about the looming test. They, and I mean the other members, wanted to have a study session the night before the exam. I did not wish to do this for several reasons. One was that I found any study the night before a test largely worthless. Far better to review just before the test. Much more important was that the proposed meeting would be Thursday night and at a time I always traveled up the street to the apartment of my classmate Richard Pryor (yah, not that one). This was due to his possession of a color television set and the airing of Hill Street Blues. So, for me the choice was pretty clear.
While I did make it to Pryor’s it was not without the group first setting up a 1982 conference call in lieu of a face to face session. We had the call however it advanced our knowledge of constitutional law not a wit. In fact, every third sentence or so as I recall was the phrase, “We are in Deep Shit”. I do not remember being particularly anxious or upset about this or remember anything else said or learned during the mercifully short “session”.
I was living in Cleveland Heights at the top of Euclid Hill and my typical approach to any test day, particularly for morning exams, was to get up early, review my cards, take a mile or so run, shower and head to school on my Puch moped.
The morning of the Constitutional Law final was sunny and nice. I routed my jog up to Coventry Street where various restaurants, bars, theaters and bohemian shops were located. Among the shops was a Daffy Dan’s tee shirt store where I purchased uniforms for my study group. These were nice cotton tee shirts in yellow with brown lettering clearly stating “We are in Deep Shit”. I think the group was grateful for the gesture, but not too sure. Regardless, they were worn into the amphitheater by all.
I considered my chances at the exam reasonable as I proved good at these four and five hour writing exercises, so I took things a step further. I sort-of brought my Emanuel’s book into the exam room in full view of the professor. All professors hated Emanuels and this one had particularly so expressed that view of a doubtful tool and pathway to academic failure.
Ok, here is the “sort-of” explained. If you followed my description of the physical characteristics of an Emanuel’s course outline book, it was to my amusement that I also owned another paperback book of the exact size, shape and manufacture. A photo compendium of the Marx Brothers cinema adventures under the title of “Why a Duck?” The night before the exam – when I was busily not studying – I deftly removed the cardstock cover from each book and affixed the Emanuel’s cover to the body of the Why a Duck book. It was this book in sheep’s clothing that I proudly marched into the exam room and was promptly called to the front by the professor who confiscated it on the spot. Hee hee hee.
I don’t remember if this was four hour or five hour exam, but during many parts of it I enjoyed hearing the professor chuckle as he leafed through the contraband book. I passed with a good grade (I only had one shitty grade during law school and despite my shirt this was not that class) and never saw my altered tome again.
I finally recall that the shirt was rather comfortable and I would wear it from time to time including one day I was in a teller line at a bank. I forgot the message I was displaying, but from the look on the teller’s face (a “tell”?) it was abundantly clear that it was applicable to far more than one obscure examination.
[1] This system not only worked for me but a classmate, with my consent, turned the idea into a bar review product “Law in a Flash” found in all law school bookstores.