There’s a certain smug satisfaction, isn’t there, in knowing something others don’t, especially when it’s a detail that seems like common knowledge to you. It’s a mix of feeling informed and perhaps a little superior, a quiet acknowledgment that you’re on top of things while others might be… well, not quite. This feeling, I’ve noticed in myself, intensifies when I’ve learned something important later in life. It’s like making up for lost time in the knowledge department. There are facts I’ve picked up as an adult that still trigger a little smirk when someone else gets them wrong.
I know I’m not alone in this. I recall a dinner during a law school conference with a rather… assertive professor, let’s call him Professor Black, and a colleague from another institution. Professor Black, in the midst of a story, used the word “schadenfreude.” When the other professor chuckled, Professor Black pounced, practically vibrating with glee: “Do you even know what schadenfreude means?” The poor fellow confessed he didn’t. Professor Black’s reaction was… memorable. Let’s just say the word “triumph” doesn’t quite capture it. I, meanwhile, was experiencing a deep secondhand embarrassment. But, human nature being what it is, I couldn’t resist sharing this anecdote when I got back home. And that’s how I discovered, from the very first person I told (we’ll call him Professor Schmiller), that he was the one who had introduced Professor Black to schadenfreude just a week prior. Professor Schmiller’s delight at hearing about Professor Black’s display, I must say, exceeded even Professor Black’s original outburst.
This kind of behavior, while perhaps amusing to recount, isn’t exactly admirable. We should all strive to be better, more gracious, less prone to these petty impulses. I’m still working on it. Let’s just say self-improvement is a journey, and I’m… still packing for the trip.
So, in the spirit of confession, let me share a pet peeve, a mistake that can elicit an almost involuntary smirk from me. It concerns the degree conferred upon graduation from law school. That degree is a JD. And what does JD stand for? It stands for Juris Doctor. Not, and I repeat, NOT juris doctorate. “Juris doctorate” is simply not a recognized degree. The correct term is degree Juris Doctor.
The frequency with which people get this wrong has become increasingly apparent to me recently, as I’ve been involved in several searches for administrative roles at the Law School. The sheer number of applicants who list “juris doctorate” as their qualification is frankly astounding. Even more surprising? A quick Google search for “juris doctorate” reveals that multiple law school websites themselves incorrectly use this term to describe their own degree programs!
Consider this my small attempt at public service. By clarifying this common error regarding the degree Juris Doctor, perhaps I can reduce the number of times I’m tempted to indulge in less-than-charitable thoughts. And who knows, maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll actually achieve true enlightenment and fundamental self-improvement. One can always hope.
