By my second year of law school, I had learned the fine art of skimming. I could “read” several hundred pages of dense legal opinions each night and walk away with the main arguments for each side and the gist of the court’s final ruling. What all that meant was that I finally had room to breathe–well, more specifically, to blow off steam. I finally had time to watch some TV. 

One night, as my roommate and I watched the X-Files–hey, it was BIG in the late 90s, we saw a video game commercial that really threw me for a loop. Ninjas preying on their own people? I immediately belted out: “That’s a load of crap, ninjas weren’t criminals…they were assassins that rulers used to kill enemies!” As it turns out, I may have been a bit presumptuous (http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/ninja) but my point was made in many ways. As soon as I said it, I stopped, turned to my roommate and said ”What the hell’s wrong with me? I’m analyzing video game commercials?!?” My roommate–a fella I’d known since grade school–looked at me without changing his expression and said “Welcome to law school…you’ve been getting that way for some time.” It was a shocking realization–I didn’t realize how much I was always thinking analytically–like a lawyer ALL THE TIME.

More recently, during business school, I found myself doing something similar–and, after talking with classmates about it–I realized that I wasn’t alone. Have you ever stood in a long line waiting to spend $4 for a cup of coffee and wondered: How does Starbucks manage to charge so much and attract so many? How could Starbucks make their operations more efficient? How could they identify additional buyers for almond scones? And would Starbucks ever want to change anything? [In the last year or so, Starbucks has tweaked its operations so maybe that answers that--but how far did they really go?] Those are the kinds of questions that two years in business school will make you ask.

Eureka moments can occur anytime and anywhere it seems. They may be amazing society-changing discoveries–this soap floats!–or they may be simple, personal breakthroughs. Talking with others has convinced me that everyone has them and their significance varies for everyone. You may notice when your next Eureka moment in the middle of its happening or you may only notice it later. Whether or not you notice it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that when you do notice it, you understand that you’re changing and the world’s changing, too. Welcome to the circus.

Recently, a group of students in my Business Law course at Belmont University were expressing surprise at how much they were starting to “think like lawyers.” They couldn’t believe how much three classes a week for three months had changed them. When they started the course, half a dozen students said that they were interested in attending law school someday. When they ended the course, only two still expressed interest in law school. Was my course good? It turned several possible lawyers away from “dark side” and dimmed their interest in a crowded field. Was my course bad? Maybe all those with interest would have become outstanding lawyers. Whether they do or do not want to be lawyers now doesn’t really matter to me–or to them–because times and people change. Maybe someday they’ll change their minds again and decide to go to law school. What matters now, though, is the fact that many of the students experienced Eureka moments. They realized that our Business Law course was changing them. They had new perspectives–and they knew it. In the end, isn’t that really the point of education? Not just to instill this or that bit of knowledge but to teach students how to approach, adapt themselves, and continue on in the face of challenging new situations?