Law student adjusts to online learning, parakeet and kitty join in

Some wannabe philosopher on the internet – the quarantine seems to be bringing them out of the woodwork in droves – recently commented that all this isolation is forcing people to face their true selves and some folks aren’t handling the introduction very well.

I’d beg to differ. In the nearly three weeks I’ve spent hunkered down, the only thing I’ve learned about myself is that my bangs don’t fluff up overnight if I brush them out before bed. Granted, I was a fairly solitary person before the quarantine orders hit and probably already know as much about myself as I’m going to figure out on my own. Instead, I’ve turned to pondering the mysteries of the universe, like why the Lysol bottle specifies different instructions for “sanitizing” and “disinfecting,” and why the same internet connection that’s good for endless hours of music videos inevitably clocks out when it’s time to tune in to class.

Yes, classes are back in session now, after a fashion. Mercifully, only one of my professors is holding classes on east-coast time – the rest are pre-recording their lectures for us to watch at our convenience. It’s certainly not as engaging as an in-person class would be, but the ability to pause and rewind is an absolute revelation. (Anyone who can make it all the way through horizontal privity without zoning out at least once is either a Supreme Court justice or a liar, and quite possibly both.)

So what’s it like? Well, the basic mechanics are the same – hear lecture, take notes, ask questions, do homework, repeat. Of course, now the lecture has to contend with my pet parakeet’s ambition to sing lead in a heavy metal band. The notebook has to share the kitchen table with my laptop and occasionally the cat. The questions are via e-mail, except in the case of the professor who holds his classes live, in which case they are via webcam. (This allows me to get a nice view of my classmates’ still-life oil paintings and quarter-sawn oak credenzas while allowing my classmates to get a nice view of my refrigerator.) Doing homework while snuggled up under a few fluffy blankets was one of my favorite small pleasures in law school, and so while I’ve been lucky enough to find all the materials I need online, the fact that I now have to read them sitting upright is a persistent source of disappointment.

On the other hand, there are certainly upsides to studying at home. The commute is much more manageable. I no longer have to haul a gallon jug of quarters around to get my laundry done. I now have the space, the time, and the growing season for a little backyard garden, which I go out and tend every morning before I wipe all the doorknobs down. Grocery shopping is no longer my responsibility, which is just as well given that I’ve never been any good at contact sports.

You may be wondering how this change has affected my academic performance. Frankly, I have no idea. Law school grades are based almost entirely on final exams, with the remainder normally being made up by class participation. (For obvious reasons, the participation element has largely been waived this term.) There’s some talk of changing the grading structure or even scrapping grades altogether in light of the pandemic. It’s confusing. So is horizontal privity. That’s why I study, to replace the general society-is-crumbling confusion with more specific confusion that will eventually be alleviated by the miracle of the rewind key.

I know that sounds weird. I’m weird. I know I’m weird. If you spend enough time alone, you learn these things about yourself. If you spend a little too much time alone, you run the risk of embracing them.