Independent at Harvard Law School since 1946
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The New Yorker magazine devoted all of the ad space in its August 22 issue to just one sponsor: Target. Each and every sellable column inch featured a stylish depiction of a New York City scene inked by a big-name illustrator who incorporated in some imaginative way the discount retailer's trademark bull's-eye.
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WASHINGTON, D.C., September 3, 2005 -- As a black American, I am fortunate to have a number of friends and colleagues who live in western Europe. Their perspectives help me to make sense of their countries, my country, and our world. So when a trusted international lawyer telephoned me from Zurich on Friday afternoon, outraged by the portrayal of black Americans as savages on her television screen, I was alarmed.
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You have been pre-screened, the computerized yenta has worked its magic and you have been matched with several potential suitors. You got or will get the chance to meet with some of these "matches" over drinks, and you are certain that you will get lucky. You've done your research, put on your best outfit -- the one you wore to your cousin's wedding two years ago -- and you are feeling confident about your prospects.
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I had always imagined that New York summer associates would live wonderfully fabulous and lavish lives: eating six-course dinners every other week at Bouley, driving to the Hamptons every weekend, doing sexy corporate work and flying out to meet clients around the world, rubbing elbows with celebrities over brunch in Soho, buying tickets to all of the hottest performances around town and going home each night to their beautifully manicured apartments.
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My parents are engineers. My brother is a doctor. Most of my friends are doctors, along with several engineers and a few rebels who went off to grad school to be research scientists. I wanted to be a garbageman for a while: I liked the trucks. Then I wanted to be a teacher or a writer.
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My editor tells me that this, my inaugural publication, is the jobs issue. That's something of a problem. I just got here, showed up all bright-faced and blissfully ignorant, and I don't know anything about anything. I still live in wincing fear of "non-traditional" students with their professional lives and civic accomplishments, to say nothing of the casual, offhand mastery of the 2- and 3Ls.
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Last year we were told that the game was over -- we had all won, we all made it to HLS. This year we were reassured of our high demand, reassured that we are in one of the hottest legal markets ever. And next year -- well, next year we'll be relaxing, waiting for work to start, waiting to get on with our lives and make money.
News
With the proper media focus on the horrors of Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent preventable destruction by flooding of lives, hopes and jobs, the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing this week on the nomination of Judge John G. Roberts Jr. to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States will be fighting for public attention.
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Like a fair number of law students, I came here directly out of undergrad. I spent no time dilly-dallying or trying to find myself. I already knew where I was. And more importantly, I knew where I wanted to be. I was not distracted by a wide range of career options that lay before me (which, admittedly, was mostly due to the fact there was no range at all due to a poor choice of college major.
News
Traditionally, in this first-of-the-year career issue, Record columnists write to persuade idealistic 1Ls to avoid the temptation of working for an evil law firm, even as they themselves return from being wined, dined and paid obscene amounts of money all summer with a six-figure offer in their hands.
News
Imagine a lawyer, three years out of Harvard Law School, whose two greatest professional accomplishments consist of (1) sitting beside someone being questioned by another lawyer, and (2) speaking on the phone with a slightly older lawyer working for a corporation.
News
Let's say you are going to die next week (perhaps not the cheeriest introduction, I know, but bear with me). Let's also imagine that you can choose the manner in which you will be killed. You might start by considering which method would be the quickest.