on vocation

This afternoon we had our last session of Beginning Public Speaking class.

We were all very sad.

It was my favorite group of students so far (but then I think that about every new class . . .); we all got along exceptionally well and the kids were encouraging to each other.

That, and I've now enhanced my pedagogical stick-figure arsenal (which already boasts the heroes of last semester's writing workshop: Bob and Fred, the Masters of Transitive and Intransitive Verbs) to include the "Um" Pirate and his pet pigeon (I was going for a parrot, but poll results concluded that its true nature was otherwise).

At the beginning of class one of my students brought in flowers and a "Thank you!" balloon.

Driving home with a brightly-colored balloon bobbing in the front passenger's seat, hands covered in dry-erase marker dust, and a warm fuzzy feeling, I couldn't help but reflect on the differences between this and my previous vocation as a litigator.

Gifts. True, clients at the law office at times bestowed gifts upon us, but there were always the twin looming preoccupations of (1) what do the Model Rules of Professional Responsibility say about this?!?!?! and (2) heh; if you knew all the things about me that I know about you, I'd bring you persimmons too.

Candy. While the promise of Hershey's Kisses has been proven sufficient to make 8- to 10-year-old-boys (1) calm down, (2) listen up, (3) answer the question, and (4) have a good attitude, it normally just doesn't have the same effect on clients.

And it NEVER works with the opposing party or opposing counsel.

Results. In litigation, nobody wins. When a teacher helps a student grasp a concept, everybody wins.

Truth. Kids are some of the most honest people out there (especially in my speech class, when I ask them to critique each other -- or my stick drawings). There is some dispute about whether the same can be said of litigators.