Property, day one

There I sat, arms folded, a scowl on my face. And he just wouldn't back down.

I got called on in class today by the ass who cancelled class on Tuesday without warning. I had decided not to like him after that and a 2L telling me he's really mean to students. I had said, "Good. I hope he tries that with me."

I didn't know it would be the first day of class.

It was an interesting case from 1832 by Chief Justice Marshall which effectively legally divested Native Americans of all land rights. The general principle, we learn, is that the conqueror possesses. Great. I read it 10 minutes before class because I am #1 Slacker now.

He went down the alphabet beginning near my name, and I felt that dread rise. I was fourth, and the others had really outdone themselves as appearing to be complete morons. What was the plaintiff's chain of title is NOT a difficult question, people. (And I kept wanting to laugh at the notion that there is some tribal council that deals with things in Western-style legal fashion or that there's ANY kind of consensus in any tribal setting. Has nobody actually lived and/or worked with Native Americans? Maybe an argument could be made that the fractious politics of tribal politics are because of interaction with dysfunctional Western systems - and while I'm the first to label my people as dysfunctional, I'm over the illusion that it's ONLY my people.)

I don't remember what questions he asked me, but I could see his glee rise. I had a little firm set to my jaw there. I was polite (though not as polite as my Texas friend who insisted on calling him "sir") but deliberately disengaged. I fully answered the questions and sounded, according to my peers, erudite. But I regarded him with disdain.

That drives men, and teachers, crazy. They want us nervous and awe-struck (I've heard he's a genius and I simply don't care) and eager to please. I'm none of those. I was working out a monthly budget and looking up holidays on my day planner before he said my name. (This is why I never take my laptop to class - I would completely stop listening.)

He wouldn't let me go. Each new turn of thinking, he would come back to me until he finally realized I'm not the only student in that class of over 100. Reluctantly he moved down the list.

This is going to be a long effing semester. According to reputable sources, he likes to push students until it's painful and they cry (or want to). That takes a lot for me (except with Dayton, but that's totally different), and I meet mean with mean. I did, after all, teach middle school for a living. Disinterested, bored teenage girls are my specialty. I do a great imitation which can push the strongest soul to unreasonableness.

He may think he's tough, but he's no match for this survivor of secondary education. I've made men in power cry before, and I can do it again.