Thinking about the last post ("The Exploding Alarm Clock," February 19, 2011) led me to another memory from that same year. Before I relate that, however, I have a request for those of my readers who are former students of mine. I invite you all to send me your memories of things that happened in my classroom that are worthy recording on this blog. Email your favourites to me at firstname.lastname@example.org, using a "Subject" heading that mentions the word "Blog" so I don't have a "senior moment" and accidentally delete it as spam.
The new post:
In the Spring Semester of the 1966-67 school year, I was a second year student at the University of Texas School of Law. That semester one of the more interesting courses was Criminal Law taught by Albert Alschuler (now an Emeritus Professor on the University of Chicago faculty, but then in his first year of teaching).
|Albert Alschuler in 1967|
|My Yearbook Picture from 1967|
At first this was amusing, but as the class went on I began to feel silly. The sunglasses made it hard to see my book and notes and felt awkward on my face (I never wear sunglasses and do not own any---I have no independent memory of this, but I probably had to buy the clip-ons for the purpose of the joke). About two-thirds of the way through the class, and with Professor Alschuler busy with his lecture, I decided to remove the sunglasses and be done with it all. Very slowly so as to not attract attention, I lowered my head and unclipped the sunglasses.
Alschuler called on me instantly.
“How I Became a Law Professor,” January 27, 2010
“The Socratic Dialogue in Law School,” January 31, 2010
“Clickers,” March 17, 2010
“The Summer Bar Review Tours,” June 15, 2010
"The Exploding Alarm Clock," February 19, 2011
"Adventures in the Law School Classroom," September 10, 2011