The 8:30 sessions at the Makati Regional Trial Court is a constant reminder of one truth: life is a series of term papers and final exams… especially for arrogant lawyers.

I hate cutting my trip to dreamland short, just to watch the judge lambast the rows of incompetent lawyers — from the public prosecutor to the PAO rep or as Your Honor puts it, counsel de parte. I have to admit though that I enjoy the latin lessons. Et alii. Mia culpa. And the venerable Your Honor is very generous to visiting students — he would graciously explain the proceedings, This is the bar, this is the prosecution and that, the defense. Direct and cross examination. Jurisprudence. We are members of the bar. Judges used to sit on benches thus, the term bench for the current massive table where the gavel sits.

And the stenographers are entirely different stories. They have tape recorders and machines that they lovingly caress. They are mostly middle-aged women who would crunch their faces at the witnesses for talking too fast. Mahina masyado. ‘Wag mabilis masyado. They hold their heads high, taking pride in their knowledge of this esoteric science of short hand.

The lawyers. The glorious bar members stammer and quiver at the presence of Your Honor. I do not enjoy watching them at all. The whole scene is like a constant replay of a college scene. I squirm because I can relate how it feels to be caught with a half-baked research, conclusions based on contaminated data sample. Poorly written paper founded on wild imaginings and youthful exuberance. The conjunctions and adverbs that refuse to function or the concepts that remain lodged in your cerebral cortex, never making it to the world of words and labels and definitions.

I sigh inwardly and close the door of Branch X.