I have a confession. I’m currently sitting in class, not listening to a mock debate on Zivotofsky v. Kerry (a 2015 case on Congress’s power to muck about in tricky foreign relations issues). I’m four weeks in to my third year of law school, and this case has already been discussed in three other classes, so I’m zoning out and reflecting on the past two years.

Paper Chase, 20th Century Fox (1973)

Everyone enters law school to either make money, change the world, or please their parents. The first two are hard. The third one may be impossible. But your odds go up if you can stand out from your peers, in every way possible. Everyone is trying to stand out with our grades, our extracurricular activities, and just generally giving the impression that we are by far the smartest and most accomplished member of our class.

After two years of studying the peculiar biome of law school, I’ve picked up the most powerful ways to stand out from your peers. Use with caution.

1. Make your professors your peers

You know what professors hate? Explaining basic tenets of the law to a class full of ignorant law students. Harness their natural aversion to your stupidity by treating them like you are their equal. Definitely don’t ask stupid questions like the rest of your classmates — you want to challenge your professor, not put them to sleep.

The best way to do this is push back against analytically weak assertions by your professors. You’re smart (you got into law school, for god’s sake!). If something doesn’t make immediate sense to you, it’s probably wrong. Call your professor out in class. If you tell them that you think they’re wrong, they will definitely respect your courage. If you once did a three-month unpaid internship at an office that dealt with immigration, for example, definitely mention that fact when you challenge your professor’s take on the Naturalization Clause of the Constitution. She’ll respect your first-hand experience and probably walk back from her original position.

2. Assess your competition

Sun Tzu said to know your enemy. Or maybe it was Clausewitz. I don’t know. I’m a 3L with an offer, so I haven’t actually opened a book in like six months. Either way, if you want to stand out from your fellow classmates, you have to figure out what you’re up against.

The best way to do this is through manipulation and cyber stalking. When you show up at orientation, make as many friends as possible. Go out drinking with your new classmates. Become Facebook and Instagram friends with all of them — this will provide valuable intel down the road. You’ll probably hate hanging out with them, because human interaction is hard and they’re all so much dumber than you, but consider this an investment in your future.

First, disregard those privacy nutjobs who don’t think you should talk about grades. You just have to be subtle about it. First off, pay attention to Facebook when grades come out. If any of your friends seem happy (or at least don’t seem clinically depressed), they are your biggest competition. Your new goal is to be better than them (which you already are, but you just have to make sure). Next time you see them, casually mention how “brutal” that Torts final was. Confide in them that some people had noticed grading irregularities and were considering approaching the registrar. Very casually, ask them what they got, “if you don’t mind me asking.” After all, you’re just trying to sort out this irregularity.

3. Amass a rolodex

You didn’t get a 180 LSAT and 3.98 undergraduate GPA to not join the global elite, so now is the time to start meeting important people. Is there a particularly famous professor, one who goes on talk shows and writes for Lawfare? Take his class immediately. Stay after class to ask him about that memo that he wrote at the White House authorizing that thing. Visit his office hours just to chat, not necessarily about the course material.

He doesn’t have to know who you are — you just need to have enough face time that you can drop the phrase “I was actually just chatting with [famous person who doesn’t remember you] about this very topic…” People respect social validation. If you know smart, important people, your classmates will soon think of you as a smart, important person. When you drop names into your BigLaw and DoJ interviews, your interviewers will know that they aren’t dealing with the typical law student. They’ll be dealing with a law student who sort of knows some sort of influential person in a narrow field probably not relevant to that job. But hey, maybe it’ll be just enough to edge out the competition.

These failures aren’t even wearing suits. Legally Blonde, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (2001).

4. Wear a suit.

Besides knowing people and proving your intelligence, do you know what screams importance? Rolling into class like you just left the world’s most high-powered business meeting, or like you’re going to meet some partners from Cravath and your friend George Clooney for a late happy hour after class.

The best way to look way more important than the schlubs in your class is to wear a suit. Tailored, perhaps with a pocket square. Tie your tie in a knot as big as your ego. If you went to a prestigious or foreign school for undergrad, get a tie bar or cuff links that sport the school logo so nobody forgets that you bleed Crimson.

You may be thinking, “Wait, but I don’t have a job or any other reason to wear a suit.” Doesn’t matter. Nobody in law school actually cares about you as a human being, so nobody will know that you spend your time between classes crying in the corner study room on the fifth floor of the library. As long as you’re in a suit, everyone will assume you’re a busy and important person, which is almost as good as being a busy and important person.

5. Focus all your energy on extracurricular clubs

I’ve talked to a lot of BigLaw hiring partners and they all tell me one thing: if there’s one thing that sets an applicant apart from their peers, it is their involvement in on-campus extracurricular activities. They want someone who gave up sleep and family to practice a closing argument for play court. When they’re looking for a future partner, your time as the Section 2 Representative to the student government will show your ability to handle complicated and high-stakes situations without batting an eye.

Do these things and talk about them often with future employers. Mention how the fight to get an extra froyo machine in the cafeteria taught you to never give up on your dreams, and how spending eight hours a week fixing poorly-formatted BlueBook citations made you the 25-year-old man you are today. When it comes to valuable real-life skills, extracurricular activities at a professional school are the best way to get a leg up.

6. Always pick prestige over happiness

Remember the reason you chose your T14 school over a full scholarship at your state school. Sure, it may be economically disadvantageous, and you might hate your new city, but now you get to wear an NYU Law hoodie and see all the jealous faces walking past you. For your entire career, you’ll be respected by any fellow attorney who went to a lesser school. As long as you don’t work with too many Yale graduates you’ll be fine (and they’re all going to be professors anyway). You might hate going to your school, but you don’t go there for personal happiness — you’re there to be the best.

The same principle applies to employment. Are you interested in corporate law? Does the prospect of reading through 14,000 pages of documents to facilitate the merger of Big Pharma #1 and Big Pharma #2 sound like a fun way to spend your Saturday night? If it does, that’s good news for you and you can go be happy and successful. If it doesn’t, you’re going to apply to Wachtell anyway because you saw them on the Vault Top Ten and your classmates all nod their heads and say things like “Oh, nice, that’s a great firm” when you tell them that you bid on Wachtell. And the money is nice — it’ll make all your friends back in Blukoller, Indiana, think that you’re a megastar of the legal world. And you will be, at least until you have a mental breakdown as a second-year associate. But at least you’ll have enough money to afford all the single malt you’ll be drinking when you make the occasional visit to your Brooklyn apartment.

7. Just have fun

I’m just kidding. If you’re lazy enough to have fun during law school, you’ll probably end up as a janitor or something. I don’t know if that’s true, but that’s what these kids in suits keep telling me.