Personal Narrative: My Atticus Finch Position

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With a skater cut, three days of scruff, an oversized punk rock T-shirt, and a pair of torn Vans on his feet, it was hard for me not to rush to judgment. But Kyle was my client, and my job was to prepare him for his upcoming deposition. It was my last week into what had been a successful eye-opening internship at a law firm in South Florida. My Atticus Finch dreams had been somewhat shaken, and my rose colored view of the legal world had been somewhat brought down to reality, but I was still enamored with the law and the court system, though the visions of my calling surprise witnesses in order to crack a case to get my innocent client off a trumped up charge were now more steeped in veracity. I was now smack in the middle of the rather mundane

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