What Does “Are You IPTF” Mean? Let Me Explain.

I first heard someone ask that question as I passed through Stuart House my first week of 1L year. I thought to myself, what on Earth is “IPTF?” Is it an acronym signifying some state of mind, or perhaps some other law school-specific parlance related to the trials and tribulations of being a law student? I was never really good at keeping up with the lingo in high school or college, so to find a possible definition of “IPTF,” I first consulted a secondary source that some young people consider to be persuasive authority: Urban Dictionary. To spare you the trouble of visiting that source, it defined “IPTF” as follows verbatim (with typos): “‘iptf’ stands for I PITY THE FOO!!! famous saying of Mr. T”.

Not relying on a sole source, I continued my research and found that at Boston College Law School, “IPTF” actually stands for the “Intellectual Property and Technology Forum.” The IPTF is both a club and a student journal. As a club, the IPTF helps prepare students to be zealous advocates in intellectual property (IP) and technology law by hosting various guest speakers, firms, seminars, and “technology bootcamps,” and by connecting students with alumni of the IPTF who actively practice IP and technology law. As a student-run journal, the IPTF publishes legal scholarship with the goal of furthering the development of legal thought in IP law (including trade secrets, patents, trademarks, and copyright) and technology policy (including inter alia web-based civil liberties challenges, data privacy, and telecommunications law). 1

Continue reading

The Implied Warranty of Fitness

As finals season approaches, many of us are buried in our textbooks, reviewing case briefs, finalizing outlines and memos, and visiting professors during office hours. In doing so, a few may have encountered the doctrine of “implied warranty of fitness.” For some, this doctrine might sound familiar from contract law.1 For others, it might sound familiar from property law.2 But the “implied warranty of fitness” I’m referring to exists beyond model codes, cases, and classrooms: the implied need to be physically and mentally fit. 

For newly minted 1Ls, law school has shown us that we constantly engage in rigorous and complex thought processes, from comprehending unnecessarily convoluted cases and writing legal memos to pondering hypotheticals and participating in competitions. These “mental gymnastics” require countless hours studying in the library and at home on top of regularly scheduled class time—all of which is spent sitting down. Evidently, life in the legal world is largely sedentary, which makes sense considering that physical fitness is neither an ABA requirement nor testable material on the UBE.

Continue reading

Embracing the Process

As 1L year advances, I find myself asking this question more and more: “What type of lawyer do I want to be?” Speaking to many of my peers, I am relieved to know that I am not alone in experiencing this repetitive self-inquiry—they too ask themselves this question almost daily. Though to be clear, by “type of lawyer,” I am not merely referring to a specific area of practice, but also to the values that I see myself striving to uphold as a practicing attorney. In attempting to answer this question, I tend to reflect on the emphasis that my professors place on applying a critical perspective to the cases and issues we explore both in class and in everyday life. Our job as lawyers in training, so it seems, is not just to understand the letter of the law, but also to understand the motivating forces behind the law, the law’s impact on the judicial process, and the law’s impact on society at large. Why did the court rule the way it did? What are the societal implications of the court’s ruling? Does the ruling complement or negate public policy? How should the court have ruled? 

Continue reading

Breathe

“When you want to succeed as bad as you want to breathe, then you’ll be successful.”

Those words, spoken by motivational speaker Eric Thomas, inspired me after I was rejected by The United States Military Academy at West Point when I first applied as a high school senior. Nevertheless, I did not lose my focus, my resolve, or my commitment to attend West Point because I wanted to serve our country and to fight for the rights and freedoms of others. Following the route of General George S. Patton, who attended West Point after a year at the Virginia Military Institute (VMI), I went to VMI.

VMI is an institution known for its challenging first-year experience, known as the “Rat Line,” its sexist history (United States v. Virginia et al., 1996), and its military support of the Confederacy during the American Civil War. As an African-American cadet, I had to come to terms with VMI’s past and the constant reminders on its campus that glorified supporters of slavery. For example, as a “rat” (a freshman who has not yet earned the title of “cadet” by completing a crucible known as “Breakout”), I was required to salute the statue of Lieutenant General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson—a Confederate officer who taught at VMI and who believed that African-Americans were incapable of becoming disciplined soldiers—prior to the statue’s subsequent removal on December 7, 2020. I was also required to participate in an annual celebration of the ten VMI cadets who died for the Confederacy during the Battle of New Market on May 15, 1864. At this celebration, my classmates and I were ordered to reenact a Confederate charge and seizure of a hill that was occupied by Union artillery forces, which I did with disdain.

Continue reading