As if law school's substantive classes are not stressful enough, the first-year courseload also requires students to burden their already-overloaded brain with learning an entirely new language: citations.  While the little 1Ls are struggling with the meaning of mens rea, actus reus, respondeat superior, res ipsa loquitur, and a plethora of other Latin phrases, they are also wrestling with the concept of citation sentences, which really aren't sentences at all, but entirely necessary when drafting your legal analyses and a significant portion of one's grade in Legal Research and Writing.

When I was a 1L, oh so many years ago, our LRW assignments included completing problems from the Interactive Citation Workstation (thank you, LexisNexis).  Some maniac in the Lexis family endlessly sits at his computer screen thinking up ridiculously difficult and annoyingly obscure citation problems, grinning to himself, and finding comfort in knowing that at least three-dozen 1Ls will go blind sifting through the bluepages looking for the correct answer.  It is amazing that someone can be this lame, but even more amazing is that Lexis pays this person to be so lame.  In any event, this was one of the most trying aspects of my first year.  When I finally thought I had discovered the correct citation for Georgia v. Beasley or whatever irrelevant case I was faced with, I would click the submit button only to see about thirteen "hints" staring at me, which not only served as an indication of my Bluebook ignorance and were unable to point me in the right direction, but were also ICW's unpleasant way of saying, "Girl, you are not even close."  The most frustrating would be those instances in which I was absolutely certain I was right, and I would click submit anxiously awaiting that little cartoon star to say, "Congratulations, Citation Wizard!" only to find that I had failed to italicize or unitalicize a comma and I would get the entire problem wrong.  Are you kidding me?!  How can that thing even tell if my commas are in italics?!  Well, little ones, the Interactive Citation Workstation scientists know when your commas are italicized and if your Dean's Fellow is anything like mine, she knows, too.  The silver lining is that now I can spot an italicized comma, as well as a number of other citation typos, which is a very useful skill and one that you will soon acquire as well.

Be cautious with your Bluebook pride, however, because it can get you into trouble.  In the experience of my very wise and omnipotent Dean's Fellow, she once boasted about her Bluebooking abilities during a particular internship and was corrected a few weeks later: "F.3d" is pronounced Federal Reporter Third, and not Federal Reporter Three-D.  Oops.

In addition to the F.3ds, FRCPs, F. Supp.s, and every other abbreviation for a reporter, there are a number of acronyms to be learned in LRW.  In the words of a certain (reasonably famous) Editor-in-Chief of a certain law school newspaper, "What the hell is TREAT, anyway?  It's not even sweet."  It may not be sweet, but just like Brussels sprouts or any other green vegetable you were forced to eat as a child, you better learn to like it.  TREAT will be your saving grace when you go to write your first memo and will offer some guidance you're sitting in your first three-hour exam without a clue as to how to organize your answer to "Please analyze all potential tort liability."

Bottom line, yes, LRW sucks.  Writing memos about endangered wolves or children with learning disabilities may not be how you choose to spend your Saturday, but the class is useful and deserves to be taken seriously.  So when you are about to lose it because your fifth revision of memo one has taken you three days and it still sounds like it was written by a fourth-grader, just remember, at least you don't have to mess with the Interactive Citation Workstation.