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7 Law Tchr. 1 (1999-2000)
Issue 2

handle is hein.journals/lawteaer7 and id is 13 raw text is: t A s GONZAGA UNIVERSITY Institute for Law School Teaching THE LAW Spring 2000 The Law Professor as Student, or National Velvet, I'm Not By Jan C. Costello erri's ears prick forward as we near the jump. My Arabian mare is moving easily, her strides regular as a metronome, judging the take-off point - eager, but not rushing. On her back I am poised correctly in the two- point position: My heels are down, my legs firmly around her sides, my seat just slightly out of the saddle, my chest up, shoulders back, eyes looking straight ahead between her ears. One stride away from the fence I feel Ferri gather herself for the leap; I close my legs to signal her to take off and move my hands forward in a crest release to give her more rein. She jumps smoothly, arcing over the fence in what feels like just a larger version of her normal canter stride. I move with her in perfect balance, enjoying her soaring strength. We land in harmony and Ferri canters happily on, sensitive to my directions as I turn her toward the next jump in the course. Well, that's how it happens in my dreams. In real life, this is more like it: Two strides away from the fence, I start to wonder if this is such a good idea, after all. The fence, an 18-inch-high cross rail that both Ferri and I could step over if necessary, suddenly looks about six feet high. I stiffen in anticipation, clutching at the reins and leaning too far forward. Confused by my mixed signals, Ferri takes off one stride too soon, bounding in a longer arc to clear the fence. The larger leap throws me off balance. My legs come off her sides, my heels fly upward, and I fall first forward onto her neck and then backward into the saddle, hitting her in the mouth with the reins. Annoyed, upon landing Ferri breaks into a rough, jolting trot. I respond by hauling harder on the reins, which she ignores, tossing her head. At about this point my riding instructor, Karene Cohen, calls out, BREATHE, Jan! Breathe? I think indignantly. Here I am practically rigid with terror, trying to keep my heels, legs, chest, hands, and eyes where they're supposed to be - and on top of that to remember where the next jump is on this course - and Karene wants me to breathe? Ferri has some advice for me, too. She rolls her eyes back at me, and snorts in disgust, Relax, Mom. I'm just going to jump this pathetic little cross rail and canter around the ring to the next one. You know I'm not going to hurt you. Geez, your two-year-old toddler sits on my back while I eat my lunch. It's going to be fun, Mom. NOW LET GO OF MY MOUTH! I have learned to trust Karene and Ferri, so I follow their instructions. Although my heart is pounding and my mouth is dry, I loosen my death grip on the reins and take a deep breath. Once I do that, my chest opens up and I uncurl from my fetal crouch over Ferri's neck. As I sit up, my seat bones connect firmly with the saddle, and my legs drop down and around my horse. Feeling my legs close around her, Ferri rounds her back up under me and moves smoothly forward, coming willingly into contact with the reins again. All of a sudden, we're back in balance - and I can think about the next fence. It's a miracle! This would be a better story if it happened only once, but the embarrassing truth is, it happens in almost every rid- ing lesson. I have to learn the same thing over and over again - as Karene and Ferri (and my Appaloosa gelding, Hobo, Ferri's predecessor) can attest. Although there are natural riders in the world - people who have an innate talent for riding and who progress rapidly to a high level of skill - I am not one of them. National Velvet, the heroine of my childhood reading, was one such rider; although she never had a lesson, she and her beloved Piebald won the Grand National steeplechase. I am not National Velvet. I am 49 years old, asthmatic, uncoordinated, chronically exhausted, stiff and sore, and packing more than my share of cellulite. All the things that effective riding demands are terribly hard for me to do. After years of taking lessons, reading books on riding, Continued on page 2

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