Law school is the one thing I've ever said I'd never do. While I (obviously) got over that particular commitment, I have never felt entirely at home in the law school environment. Most of my peers want more practicality; I'd like more theory. My peers think law is the best, most effective way to structure human relationships; I am frequently suspicious of the law and its tendency to serve as an instrument for imposing one's will on others. Most of my peers are bright and interesting and socially adept; I'm bright and interesting and, let's face it, awkward beyond belief.

A stunning majority of my peers also have jobs lined up for next fall, while I am scarcely beginning the Ph.D. application process. Words cannot convey the magnitude of relief I feel every time I think about interviews and networking and job hunting. For a while there I thought maybe I'd give BigLaw a try; later, I figured a federal clerkship was the way to go. But the application process was a nightmare and those few interviews I endured were just agonizing.

"Do you have any hobbies?" they ask. I have a lot of interesting hobbies, it turns out. Linux computing? Can't mention that, that's anti-corporation, nobody wants a long-haired hippie working for a respectable law firm. My action figures, video games, and comic books are a triple threat; any one of those would get me labeled infantile, never mind all three. I could mention that I'm a big fan of contemporary fiction, but no one who takes time to relax with a good, non-legal book could possibly be ready to commit to 80-hour workweeks.

Turns out they just wanted to know if I (a)golf or (b)play tennis. Neither of the above, boys (never been interviewed by a woman yet). I don't golf. I don't play tennis. I would never make partner at your firm.

But then, I wouldn't work 80 hours a week, either. I have a wife and kids and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. I'm so tired of hearing lawyers state that working insane hours shows commitment, gets the job done, demonstrates work ethic. That's not work ethic; that's completely insane. Even 60 hours a week might be reasonable if it was only once in a while; I've worked some 50- and 60-hour weeks in my day, so I know I can do it, but every week? I'd sooner play tennis.

"Why do you want to work for our firm?" Because your reception area is tiled with Italian marble and you pay your employees in gold bricks. Because you're one of the "big dogs" in a profession so obsessed with pedigree that it hasn't substantially altered its pedagogical approach in over a century, despite a veritable mountain range of evidence suggesting that the Langdellian approach is worse than broken. Because there are mouths to feed. I know you want to hear that your firm is the best, the coolest, the only place I've ever wanted to work. You want me to lie to you; you savor the lies of applicant after applicant. But I just need a job, and you're hiring, and isn't that good enough?

Except I don't need a job, and my whole world is brighter for that. What does any of this have to do with the practice of law, anyhow? I'm a meticulous researcher, a fantastic writer, and a competent oral advocate, to boot. I look forward to running my own soft-IP and appellate practice, once I pass the bar; part-time, only taking those clients I want to take. I plan on doing some family law on the side, mostly pro bono I suspect. Mostly I will focus on my Ph.D. There will be no golf.

I never felt particularly at home in the law school, but this year it doesn't bother me. I realize now that law school was never more than a stop along the way, even when I intended to practice full time. Understanding the law is important to me, and being able to practice law will come in handy, but I'm not really a lawyer. I'm a philosopher at heart. The games lawyers play in interviews are the games lawyers play in the courtroom, in the boardroom, in the back room. I suck at these games. Truth and Good and Beauty have no place there; it's all bright-lines and bottom-lines and bread-lines.

That's okay. There's work to do there and it has its own value. But its not my place, and now I realize that while I tried so hard to fit into the mold--for my childrens' sake--it was never to be. I have my lovely wife to thank for making this freedom possible!

Having said all that, I have some fabulous friends who are now or will shortly be lawyers; they will endure the interviews with more grace than I could muster. They will find meaning in their work and (hopefully!) they will find employers who treat them with dignity and respect. They might even make the profession--or, dare we hope, the world--better. I suspect that some of my peers, at least, feel as strongly about law school as I do about philosophy. If you are reading this, I apologize for my intrusion into your world. I will never appreciate it as you do, but know that I appreciate it in my own way, and that I appreciate you for loving something that so confounds me. The experience has been enlightening and interesting and enjoyable.

But for myself, I am looking forward to a year of education without worry, and after that, a triumphant return to my passion.