Brave Sir Robin no more.

Remember in Monty Python how instead of shouting retreat the knights always shout "run away! Run away!"?

A year and a half ago I was the living embodiment of those knights. Things got rough and I turn and ran. Run away should have been my battle cry. Especially when it came to oral arguments. Oral arguments were a terrifying affair, cooked up to torment first year law students. If the brief writing first semester didn't terrify the pants of them, surely the oral arguments second semester would. I swear they devise ways to torture first years. 

There I was in the midst of my final oral arguments, the one that actually counted towards my grade. It didn't help that our oral arguments were exactly my personal type of hell. No casual classroom experience in jeans for us (some students were so lucky). No we donned suits and traveled to an unfamiliar court house to argue in front of 3 unfamiliar judges. Like I said, my own personal hell. My partner and I were first. 

I never finished my argument. Not really. No, instead like Monty Python's Sir Robin I bravely ran away. Literally. I turned and fled to counsel table as fast as I could without actually running. Quite frankly it's shocking I didn't just make a run for the back door instead. Some part of me must have seen reason because I stopped and sat down where I was supposed to. At least I got that part right. The worse part? I had run away like that during practice oral arguments. At that moment I decided I would never be a litigator. In fact I would stay out of courtrooms as much as possible.

I endured my internship with a judge, taking solace in the fact that I was only required to observe and occasionally make copies. It's not a true internship unless you copy some documents for someone else. They have to be documents completely unrelated to any project you're actually working on in order to count. Relegated to the observer/errand girl role I found that I actually liked the courtroom. 

Not enough to be a litigator though. 

By some cruel twist of fate I was selected to be one of the six participants in the immigrant right's clinic this fall. That meant a real client and real court appearances (probably. Maybe? Goodness I hope not). By an even crueler and more ironic twist of fate I was assigned a case that was already in removal proceedings. Most importantly it already had a hearing date set for September 28. 

As I write this it's currently September 28. That means our hearing was today. 

I am proud to report that I did not faint, puke, pass out, run away, or do anything else equally embarrassing or amateur. No I stood my ground. Heck I even spoke. I answered some of the judge's questions. I did not hide behind my partner. And unlike brave Sir Robin I didn't retreat, run away or otherwise flee the scene.  

I think I just may be able to do this. 

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