I think about it for a moment, then chuckle. “Yeah. A couple of years ago, my best friend, Max, he tells me he wants to see me in action and shows up for my first trial ever. It was a small case. No jury, just the judge. And the plaintiff in the case was representing himself. Max sits right up front, in the second or third row, maybe. He looks like a proud father, all eager to hear me try this case. Later, I’m cross-examining a witness, and the sound of loud snoring fills the courtroom. Like, loud-loud.”

“No way,” a student says, collapsing onto his desk and shaking his head. “Max fell asleep, right?”

“Right. But what’s worse is that the judge stopped the trial to scold him. Said something like, ‘Spectators are advised that they should be paying attention to the proceedings, or the court will have to remove them.’ So, yeah, Max is banned from seeing any more of my trials.”

A kid who’s as tall as me and whose name tag reads “Héctor” jumps in next. “What would you do if you couldn’t be a lawyer?”

“Great question, Héctor,” Solange says.

“If you’d asked me that ten years ago, I would have said ‘be a professional swimmer and compete in the Olympics,’ but I think it’s too late for that. I can cook, though. Been doing it since I was a kid. So maybe I’d study to be a chef.”

A few students nod. This isn’t so bad. They seem interested. Engaged, even. They’re not cackling like they were during Nia’s presentation, but I’m holding my own.

“What’s your favorite part of your job?” Layla asks.

“My pro bono work, no question,” I respond.

“What’s that?” the student behind Layla asks.

“Pro bono comes from the Latin phrase pro bono publico, which means ‘for the public good.’ Basically, it’s the part of my job that lets me represent people for free when they need my help but can’t pay my fees. I make sure people can stay in their homes. I’m telling you, there’s no better feeling than winning a case for a client facing eviction or dealing with a shady landlord.”

Kimberly, who’s leaning against a desk on the right side of the room, clears her throat, then raises her hand.

I sit up straight. “Yes, Ms. Bailey?”

“Can you tell us something you don’t like about your job?” she asks. “Like, what’s the thing that sticks in your craw?”

“Your craw?” one student asks, looking confused.

“The thing that’s hard to swallow,” Kimberly clarifies.