Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Regular friends of the decanter will recall that ol’ Robbo received his legal edumacation back in the day at dear old Dubyanell.  Good times.  Good times.

In the past year or two, ol’ Robbo’s alma mater has instituted an innovative (indeed, I believe the first in the country) program, in the form of a third year practicum, by which it hopes to prepare its students not so much for the theoretical practice of law, as for the actual practice.

Personally, I think this is a very worthy idea.   I came out of school relatively well-trained in knowing how to think like a lawyer and schooled in some basic substantive precedent in various topics, but knowing damn-all about the business of lawyering.   Buh-lieve me, friends, there’s a world of difference, no matter where you go with your JD.  The goal of the practicum, so far as I understand it,  is to at least expose the third years to the chasm between the theoretical and the practical, and brace them for what they may expect once they leave the sheltered, ivy-covered walls of Academe.

Anyhoo, I bring all this up because tomorrow, through a singular combination of circumstances and my own desire to see this program succeed, I will be addressing a class of this year’s current crop of 3L’s on What I Do For A Living.

And I bring it up even more particularly because, as I was mulling over what I would say to these puppies, I realized that there is a 23 year gap between where they are now and where I was in my own third year of law school.

Great God Almighty, how did that happen?

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