I’m A Law Student And It’s Not Funny
Let’s just say, nine-year-old me had no idea what he was signing up for.
Now let me begin by saying when I thought about studying law, I saw myself making grand speeches in court, and maybe even starring in a Nollywood movie where I save the day after outwitting my opponents in court. It really wasn’t this dark though: what I failed to consider was what my life looks like now: waking up every morning to drag myself to class, clutching on to books that literally weigh more than my life choices.
So, firstly, let’s talk about the language. You may expect to learn about justice, rights, and how to argue your way out of anything. But surprise! The first thing you will really have to master is how to fluently speak Latin — because apparently, the law isn’t complicated enough in plain English. Instead, you are immersed into this kind of universe where at least half of the sentences sound like they are borrowed from magical incantations.
Imagine this; You’re sitting in class with a lecturer and you are struggling to follow him, then suddenly, he says something like “res ipsa loquitur”. Everyone else nods along, so you do too, hoping nobody notices the panic in your eyes. You write it down in your notebook and promise yourself that you’ll Google it later only to discover that it didn’t mean ‘the rhythm is in the music’ or some popular Afrobeats song but ‘the thing speaks for itself. ‘ And just like that, you start to realize that you’ve signed up for a bilingual degree without knowing it.
It doesn’t stop there. Latin phrases are everywhere, and they’re treated like some sort of secret handshake among the legal elite. If you’re able to use phrases like “quid pro quo” or “ex post facto” without thinking twice, congratulations, you’re part of the club. The issue is that studying law does not majorly concern the substantive knowledge that an individual has, but the ability to effectively fake it. Half the time when you are asked whether you understood the obiter dictum in that case, you just smile and nod even though your head is actually saying, Obiter what?
It gets better — or worse, depending on your perspective. The Latin isn’t just a language hurdle; it’s a status symbol. You’ll notice that the more Latin someone uses, the more they’re seen as “serious” or “knowledgeable.” It’s like a bizarre version of a rap battle, except instead of dropping rhymes, you’re dropping centuries-old legal jargon. And just like in a rap battle, there’s a lot of bluffing involved. You quickly learn to throw in an “injuria sine damno” here or an “ab initio” there, hoping no one challenges you to actually explain what they mean.
The funniest part is that even the lecturers, who seem to thrive on these Latin phrases, sometimes look like they’re guessing their way through them too. They’ll say something like “audi alteram partem” with the confidence of a seasoned scholar, and you’re left wondering if they’ve been practicing it in front of a mirror for hours just to look impressive.
At some point, you’ll find yourself randomly inserting Latin into everyday conversations just to prove you’re keeping up. Your non-law friends might ask how you’re doing, and you’ll respond with, “Oh, you know, just dealing with the res judicata of life,” which sounds deep until you remember you barely know what that means yourself.
I’m very sure every law student has at least once gone through the feeling of walking into an exam hall and suddenly realizing that everything you thought you knew has vanished into thin air. You sit there, staring at the question paper, and it stares back, demanding answers. Suddenly, that famous Latin phrase comes to mind — “Ego non sum legalis.” which literally translates to “I am not a lawyer.”
And yet, as the minutes tick by, you start scribbling something — anything — that resembles an answer, hoping that your lecturer will be impressed by your sheer audacity. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
By the time you walk out of that exam hall, you feel like you’ve just survived a natural disaster. You’re tired, disoriented, and not too sure what just happened. But you made it through, and that’s all that matters. Now whether your answers made any sense is a problem for future you — right now, you’re just grateful to have escaped with your sanity (mostly) intact.
And as you leave, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of everything. Because if there’s one thing studying law has taught me, it’s that sometimes, the only way to cope is to laugh through the confusion, trust in your ability to bluff, and hope that, somehow, you’ll make it to the other side.
“Law student syndrome” is that disease which every law student develops between the second and third years of their studies.. This is very much a reality and anyone who has been through all these will attest to the fact that they cannot mistake the symptoms. Suddenly, everything around you becomes a potential legal case. Your friend forgets to pay you back that 500 naira? Breach of contract! Someone accidentally bumps into you on the street? That’s clearly assault and battery. Your parents didn’t buy the cereal you specifically asked for? Emotional distress, my lord! It’s like your brain has been completely rewired, and now, all roads lead to a courtroom drama that only you can see.
But here’s where it gets really interesting — or tragic, depending on your perspective. You start quoting statutes and case laws in everyday conversations. Your friends ask for advice on the simplest things, and you’re planning on giving them voluminous opinions with provisions and cases to back them up. You can’t just say “no” or “yes” anymore; it’s “Well, according to Section 32 of the Nigerian Constitution…” You start to realize that the only people who might appreciate your newfound habit are your fellow law students, who are just as insane as you are.
I think for me, the craziest part of all this is realizing that after all the lectures, cases, and endless nights of studying, you’re still not a lawyer. Nope, you have to go through Nigerian Law School for that. It’s like you’ve been running a marathon, and just when you think you’ve reached the finish line, someone tells you, “Sorry, but this was just the warm-up lap.”
Now, if I could go back in time and choose not to study law, would I do it? Well, most likely. It’s the kind of question that makes you pause and think — or, in my case, pause and laugh nervously. Because let’s be honest, only the really serious law students can fully relate to the above, and I’m definitely not one of them. I’m more of a “why did I do this to myself?” kind of law student, the one who finds humor in the chaos because, well, what else can I do?
In the end, being a law student is confusing, exhausting, and occasionally hilarious. So, would I choose law all over again? Who knows? But for now, I’ll just keep going, laughing at the absurdity of it all, and hoping that one day, I’ll look back on this and think, “Well, that was something.” Until then, I will keep my sense of humor firmly intact. After all, if you can’t laugh at this wild ride, you might just start arguing with your own reflection — and that’s a case I’m not ready to take on.
