I have an article in today’s paper about one blind person’s galling experience of taking last week’s Maryland Bar Exam. To wit: human readers who weren’t strong readers and a major computer malfunction, in addition to other imperfect conditions faced by all test-takers (e.g., the background drone of construction).

Today’s story was a follow-up to an Americans with Disabilities Act lawsuit filed by three blind law school graduates in June which was basically mooted last month when a federal judge denied their motion for a preliminary injunction. (Things might heat up again in November when the test results come back…)

I wasn’t able to speak to the third plaintiff, Tim Elder, before my deadline on Friday, but I did receive a voicemail message from him over the weekend.

“I got through the exam,” he reported. “Everything with the laptop worked fabulous.”

So far, so good. Especially since co-plaintiff Anne Blackfield had software compatibility problems with the JAWS (Job Access With Speech) program, which is what Elder also used. But as with Blackfield and Michael Witwer, there was more to the story.

“However the reader, despite being an incredibly nice person, and incredibly helpful and willing to be helpful, I think, was less than qualified to be a reader for a law exam and may have even had some trouble just in being qualified for reading in general. I think the reader was probably just a standard proctor that had been asked to read,” said Elder, who is slated to work for the plaintiffs’ lead law firm this fall. (That’s Elder on the right in the photo above, along with Witwer).

I’m just a reporter, not a federal judge or licensing exam administator, but this doesn’t seem right. Am I missing something or is some re-evaluation of protocol in order here?

My colleague Danny Jacobs’ article on the courtroom sketch that attorney Sally B. Gold keeps in her office hit home with me — literally.

I, too, have a sketch of one of my courtroom exploits, which I have hanging in a hallway of my house. The sketch — which accompanies this post — was drawn Dec. 2, 2003, by the aptly named Art Lien, as the Supreme Court was hearing arguments in Locke v. Davey.

In the case, the high court ruled on Feb. 24, 2004, that Washington state did not violate a student’s constitutional right to free religious exercise by excluding him from its scholarship-awards program because he was pursuing a degree in theology.

In the sketch, I am the one in the lower right-hand corner with dark hair and a pen in my raised left hand, preparing to take notes. (The blonde woman at lower left is Nina Totenberg.)

Please tell us the story behind one of your courtroom sketches by commenting on this post.

Happy Monday! In this, my first law blog round-up, I thought I might attend to some personal business. The question I’ve been asked most since moving over to the business-of-law beat from covering a whole slew of things on the business desk is: Are you related to Lou Ulman? The answer: No.

Here are your Monday law links to start the week off on the right foot.

• Justice Scalia doubts that he would be confirmed today.
• If you’ve ever sent an e-mail that came off angrier than you planned, you might like a product that can help change your tone.
• Dahlia Lithwick at Slate writes that Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan is long on wit and short on deference, setting up the potential for years of friction between Kagan and Chief Justice Roberts.
• The news about summer programs has been mostly bad, but over at Law Shucks, they’ve found a raft of good summer program hiring news, with a few hiccups.
• At the top of the bad ideas list: posting bail with fake $20s.

As reported in today’s Maryland Lawyer, many former students of the late University of Baltimore law professor Royal G. Shannonhouse III will remember him — quite fondly — as the school’s answer to Charles W. Kingsfield Jr., the contracts professor in the novel, movie and television series The Paper Chase who made his students’ life a living hell.

The most memorable scene from the 1973 movie — and one that now seems quaint in an era of cellphones — is when Kingsfield, played by John Houseman, reaches into his pocket and tells student James T. Hart in front of the whole class, “Mister Hart, here is a dime. Take it, call your mother and tell her there is serious doubt about you ever becoming a lawyer.”

Hart, played by Timothy Bottoms,  responds to the professor’s comment by calling him “a son of a bitch.”

But Kingsfield, as is his wont, gets in the last word: “Mr. Hart, that is the smartest thing you’ve said all day. You may take your seat.”

Who was your Professor Kingsfield? Tell us about him or her in the Comments.

I wrote back in May about Matthew Clemmens, a New Jersey man who pleaded guilty to vomiting on another fan at a Philadelphia Philies home game.

Clemmens was sentenced Friday to 30 to 90 days in jail and 50 hours of community service for his actions. Clemmens apologized in court to the off-duty police officer who was his target. But Judge Kevin Dougherty wasn’t impressed, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer:

“Your apology, I believe, was feigned,” Dougherty said, as Clemmens stood stone-faced, both parents at his side. “I don’t know if you were trying to hit a home-run with your friends that day … but you struck out.”

The analogy probably should be ruled in an error, but you have to give the judge credit for his community service suggestion — cleaning bathrooms at Citizens Bank Park.