My move to Harvard Law was an exciting, but sometimes frustrating transition. The law school community was large and anonymous, the famous Bauhaus dormitories (designed by Walter Gropius) part Habitrail and part shoebox factory, the eyes of campus administrators a baleful gray. I had come with a bachelor's degree in English (English!) from a west coast univer-sity that called itself “the Farm,” a campus known for fragrant eucalyptus and a pride of lion-colored hills. Harvard Law was certainly no “Farm,” and to my eye it was no “Hundred-Acre Wood” either. Whimsy? Forget it. . . .