[27 days left]
Brief update on last week's piece about my visa stress:I'm pleased to have stopped hyperventilating about not being granted entry to Switzerland thanks to the following comments that indicated the wonders of the Schengen Convention (see more). In summary:
Australians are 90-day visa *exempt* for all European countries that are part of the Schengen Agreement. This means that you'll be let into Europe with no difficulty (they won't even give you a visa on entry, they'll just give you an entry date stamp), then it's only if you *leave* Europe more than 90 days later and you don't have a visa at *that point* that you're in trouble (but you'd probably just be fined). –Ethan DSome of the comments also pertain to those heading on a Danish exchange:
I got the same 3 months processing spiel from the Danish consulate. then I got my visa approved and in my passport and sent to my house in 3 weeks from memory. –Lindy T
I was also told by the Danish consulate that if my visa didn't arrive in time I could still enter the country for 90 days. –Emma BThere was also mention of a concerning bureaucratic practice:
I rocked up to Greece, eventually landed in Denmark and applied for a residence permit. It never was delivered to me since there's a strange bureaucratic requirement that your name has to be on your letterbox at the time of delivery...Thanks so much for your help, everyone! I'll be sure to bring labels for my mailbox. If you have suggestions/questions, pop them here or in the guestbook.
Still, once you apply, 90 days is allowed to elapse and you can stay in Denmark until they send you the outcome. –Simon T
This update will be edited into the original piece. On with the post!
I wrote the following article for the upcoming edition of Lawkipedia, a guide to the UNSW Law School for incoming first-year students.
Climbing Mount Class Participation: it's all in the guts
At the start of last summer school, I asked my family law lecturer outright and with respect how I could excel in class participation, stop "flopping around like a fish" with my questions, and counter the image of a "silly, annoying undergraduate" in a class of mostly postgrads. You would hope that I could answer such a question by now––I am in my third year––but the fact that I finally do only halfway through my degree highlights the need for this piece. |
| Just to continue the Finding Nemo theme, I'm pretty sure this was how my class perceived me: so silly it ceased to be endearing. |
To explain this CP unease, one would have to delve into internalised anti-intellectualism (because no one wants to be a nerd), some law students' tumultuous and unhealthy love affair with competition, and the arduous ropes of improving public speaking skills. Having been to a school that did not encourage oratory or creative performance, to voice myself in class seemed ludicrous, particularly in a student culture that laughs off not doing the readings that maximise our capacity to participate. I also succumbed to a common fallacy created by law school prestige: the idea that everyone, at any time, is capable of thorough discussion about the cases we may or may not have read.
But goodness, to quote an internet meme, one does not simply comprehend centuries of dense common law. Despite this fact, going from one competitive environment to another makes us forget an English poet's maxim that to err is human. Our learned lecturers are not there for us to feign omniscience, but to help and guide us through error. Such pretence often only serves to fulfil silly expectations of how we portray ourselves in law school, which produce a sad irony when we seek to distinguish ourselves from one another by being collectively silent. One cannot know success without first 'flopping around like a fish' in class once in a while. We are often sorry for being wrong as if we have unforgivably derailed class discussion, but such discussion is there to be wrestled – I would now rather make ten mistakes and gain ten insights in class than not voice myself at all.
As a cautionary note, optimal participation is a balance between quality and quantity. It has to be relevant: posing epistemological questions about history to justify a policy approach verges on counterproductive. The commonly heard segue, 'I think it's really interesting that…', has much value but can be an insidious tool pulled out of one's bottom to divert the topic and mask a lack of having done the readings.
Ultimately, focus not on the value of a question before asking it. If you insist on doing so, ask the question anyway if you are in doubt. Why? Lecturers correctly reassure us that everyone in the room might have the same question. Furthermore, the truism that 'there are no stupid questions' is accurate because we deal with complex legal questions that, at times, need to be broken down into simple steps – a process often initiated by the brave raise of a hand.
In summary, do your readings to the best of your ability and if you struggle, that's natural – consult your lecturers. Form and ask questions, challenge the law, and make mistakes. Such an approach should help you succeed in class participation. Proof? A 5/5 provisional mark in my family law class for 'doing great' – having received close to nothing for CP before, a pat on the back never felt so good.
Next week: exploring car hire, budget airline and train pass options. If you have any suggestions, pop a message in any of my inboxes! Let me know if you'd like to write a guest article too – I have one coming from London!
Until next time,
Darren
Next week: exploring car hire, budget airline and train pass options. If you have any suggestions, pop a message in any of my inboxes! Let me know if you'd like to write a guest article too – I have one coming from London!
Until next time,
Darren
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