Note: This series is fictional.
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FROM: Lisa Burns
SUBJECT: Fall 2012 Grades Now Available
(gulp)
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Fresh off a resoundingly successful run of Solving Problems, Fenno was strolling to his first bit of Crim when his phone buzzed. In retrospect, you’d say “buzzed ominously,” but come on, that thing goes off about 85 times a day with crucial email dispatches (“Queueing Theory, Salad Bars, and You: A Message From Restaurant Associates”), and besides—three weeks of pass-fail stakes have a way of driving these sorts of things from one’s mind. But anyway. With the full benefit of hindsight, we can now say “buzzed ominously,” because that subject line sent a shiver down Fenno’s spine.
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To dispense with the suspense, Fenno’s grades were fine. I mean, they’re not going to be naming any buildings after him in 100 years, but on the whole things could have been a lot worse. The author does not wish to leave that drama hanging over the remainder of the piece. Fenno himself isn’t going to have a chance to check HELIOS until after class, but there’s no reason we can’t get this out in the open now.
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The First-Year’s Guide to the Law School’s “Grades” entry contains a subsection on “Getting Your First Results.” Fenno skimmed it while he walked to Austin:
Brace yourself. There are those who will try to talk you down, console you with stories about how Professor So-And-So TOTALLY got an embarrassing grade on an exam one time, and look how that turned out. Do not listen to these people. Like it or not, your 1L grades are pretty much the most important thing that comes out of law school. At most, your 2L grades come into play depending on when you start hunting for your second summer job, but if you’re a properly soulless EIP-type even those don’t matter.
If you’re at this school, there’s a… fairly good chance you’ve been getting good grades for a while. With that comes a better-than-average chance of being terrified of closing off any doors to possible futures: as long as your grades are solid, you can keep pushing off the “my life means this now” day of reckoning. That ends now. A good chunk of your fellow first-years just received confirmation that they’ll never be clerking on the Supreme Court or working for Wachtell. Now, this is fine. Life continues. You will not be thrown out of school. But if you’re part of the set who’s been living each day chasing that awesome sticker that says “Grape Job!” and there’s a little bunch of grapes with a smiley face and when you scratch it it smells like grapes, it’s time to get that soul-searching out of the way. This problem is particularly acute among those affected by Small Pond Syndrome.
“Small Pond Syndrome” is cross-referenced:
A particular affliction common among small-town, state-school types. These kids come to Harvard from the top of their classes at middle-of-the-road schools, eager to test themselves in the big-leagues. Symptoms include an outwardly indifferent, folksy-charm manner masking an inner fear that they’re not really very smart at all and will be rapidly exposed as frauds leading to expulsion, shame, and ditch-digging. Remedied by an early Low-Pass and an evening with an old friend.
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Fenno’s Crim class was one of those cruel, laptop-free affairs, delaying any immediate HELIOS run. (And HELIOS on a phone is the sort of hell only wished on one’s worst enemies.) This left him plenty of time to stew, to craft elaborate contingency plans, to steel himself for what was to come. (Here your narrator is compelled to remind you that everything turns out fine, and no grim fate awaits your protagonist.) A like mood hung over most of the class; you could tell who checked their phones on the way over on the basis of each unfortunate soul’s glazed-nervous look.
Post-class, walk back. Chevy was reclined in the common-room, bag of Haribo and a sixer within reach.
“Whoa there. You in some kind of hurry? Kick back, crack a barley-pop. Maury’s on.”
Fenno relayed the situation in re the unfortunate email and his current mission w/r/t computer access. He expected the characteristically blasé response typical of any Chevy/academics intersect. Instead, solemnity:
“Hmmmm. Yes.”
The first-year retired to his chambers, poured a stiff one, and logged in. Turns out, everything was fine. I mean, they’re not going to be naming any buildings after him, but… Anyway. More important things are afoot: is he the father or not?
“Fenno” is a fictional serial written by an anonymous law student. The main character is always named Fenno and is always a 1L, but his or her character changes every school year. This installation is part of the series for the 2012-13 School Year, entitled “Fenno: Mostly Harmless.”