The human library

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist
 
I woke early and navigated my way through the dim morning light. I opened the door to my closet. My daily attire typically consists of jeans, flannel shirt, and work boots, but not this day. This day I was going to be part of a human library.

I rummaged through the few lawyer clothes I still possessed, two blazers, several blouses and not a single skirt or pair of dress slacks. Black jeans or leggings were about as dressy as I get these days. I somehow doubted that modern-day attorneys wore leggings to court, so my black jeans would have to do. They were fairly new and fit well. Paired with a blazer, green knit turtleneck, gold chain, gold earrings and black leather ankle boots, I was set to go.

It has been five years since my "retirement." Five years since I have entered a courtroom to plead or try a case, but I know that I am still, and will always be, a trial attorney. Today was the day I would talk with passing school students, answer their questions and share my career in litigation.

I had expected many of their questions, such as how much schooling was required to practice law. Several passersby rolled their eyes when I said four years of college followed by three years of law school, but when I told them that I had not really begun to learn how to try a case until I stepped into a courtroom, they were surprised. All of that schooling and I still had so much to learn. I shared that experience had been my best teacher.

One girl asked if I could describe my career in one word. I did not hesitate and answered "people." She looked perplexed and asked why. I explained that every day I had met and learned from so many different kinds of people, judges, opposing counsel, jurors, witnesses and of course, my clients.

Some students asked their questions off of prepared papers and jotted down my responses. Others simply stood before me, looked me in the eye and asked wonderful follow up questions to my responses. 

A young man, who hoped to become a pediatric surgeon, asked what had been the most difficult part of my job. I answered that it had never been easy to lose a case, and that once a case went to trial, I had no control over the outcome. He nodded his head in understanding, and asked how I dealt with the loss, and I explained that as long as I knew that I had worked as hard as I could and would not have done anything any different, I was OK with the verdict. I was not the judge or the jury, and I had faith in the process. He nodded and said that he supposed not all cases were meant to be won.

I talked with several young people who hoped to become attorneys. One of these was a young girl who returned after a while with a friend she wanted me to meet. Her friend explained that she hoped to become a writer, and she knew that I wrote stories for the paper. 

I smiled and told them both that trial law was really very much like writing. As an attorney, my job was to listen to people and understand their stories, and then tell that story to the judge and jury. As a writer, my job is to look, listen, and write about what I have come to understand. It is all about learning and sharing. The three of us talked about reading, the wonder of words, and the reward we found in sharing our words.

Another remarkable young woman approached me and said that she knew me and had once visited our farm with her family. I had shown her projectile points, stone axes, and pottery shards that we had found in our fields. She told me that her career goal was to study archaeology and become an archaeologist. She hoped to work at a museum and teach others about the people who had once lived in our part of the world. I was glad that she had sought me out.

Our entire human library was made up of about 30 adults whose careers ranged from business owners, plumbing inspectors, and transportation specialists, to firefighters, police officers and farmers. From my vantage, I could see students clustered around each adult, talking, asking questions, and learning.

And I know I learned, too. I learned to have faith in our youths. I learned that our young people are vibrant and caring. I learned that they have goals and are ready to work hard to follow their goals on into the future.

I also learned that my clothes did not matter. Being a part of the human library was all about sharing, but when I got home, I suggested to Greg that as long as I was dressed, we might as well head out to a nice dinner. Guess what? He decided to put on clean pair of jeans.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.