As regular readers know, I often digress into non-criminal discussions because, as Gideon correctly pointed out, it’s my blawg and I can write what I want.  So, no comments from criminal defense lawyers or New York lawyers who want to chastise me for going beyond the scope.  Today is law professor day, because I say so.  If you don’t care, click here.

Recently, we’ve discussed a number of problems that are apparently rampant in law school and affecting the self-image of lawyers as well as efficacy of law school.  The students are disconnected and miserable and the LawProfs want to change everything to alleviate the misery.  All in all, things are not working very well.

The LawProfs are angry at me because I poke some fun at them and don’t (in their eyes) show sufficient respect for their efforts.  I have been told, in plain language, that it’s just as hard to be a law professor and stand up in front of a class of law students as it is to try a case before a jury.  There was a bit of throat clearing heard in the background over all the scoffing when this came across the broadband.

I didn’t raise this comparison, nor do I think it matters.  This is from the profs side, and I apparently touched a nerve by the perceived suggestion that being a lawprof is less worthy than being a lawyer.  We need lawprofs (assuming we need law schools, which I do) to teach law students.  They play an important role in our system and whether or not their job is comparable to that of a trial lawyer is irrelevant. 

But now we get into the nitty-gritty.  Law students complain, and complaint bitterly, on the various lawprof blogs about what they are getting out of law school.  I will address some thoughts about the complaints from the students side in another post.  Today, it’s all about the professors.

The students’ complaints can be wrapped up in one word:  disengaged.  They are bored.  They fail to see the relevancy of what they are being taught to what they hope to be.  And mostly they are bored. 

What do the professors see as the solution?  Eliminate compulsory attendance.  Sorry, wrong answer. 

First year isn’t as much of a problem, as the students arrive bright eyed with their empty 3-ring binders and Law School t-shirts, ready to learn.  They will take whatever the lawprof dishes out, because they don’t know much of anything.  They’ve seen The Paper Chase (or perhaps Legally Blond) and anticipate the Socratic method as their challenge.  They’re ready for it.

Second, and most particularly, third year students are not as easy.  Within the insular world of law school, these are the big guys, the ones who have been there and done that.  BMOCs.  These students fall into two groups:  The ones who want to succeed at being law students (the law review types) and the ones who want to succeed at being lawyers.  The former complain because law school is too low-brow for them, believing that they need intellectual stimulation so that their brilliant minds don’t atrophy.  The latter complain because they’ve come to realize that little of what they’re hearing will do them any good when they get out in the real world.

Both of these complaints are wrongheaded.  Lawyers, unlike physicians, go out into the world as generalists.  Once we pass the bar exam, we are entitled to take on any legal matter under the sun, plus gain immediate access to licensure in other areas (such as Real Estate Broker).  To an unsuspecting public, the mere fact that we are lawyers entitled us to take money from people to advise or represent them in matters as diverse as estates and contracts and criminal prosecutions.  We have no initials after our names that let people know we are fellows in the American Academy of Pediatric Nose Hair Tweezing.  We are, simply, lawyers.

And so, students must leave law school with a reasonable overview of the law, not merely to pass the bar exam (as is a major concern of law schools determined to up their ranking in the US News and World Reports tier system) but because real people will one day ask them a question and rely on their answer.  Even if Little Timmy wants to specialize in “deep well law,” he needs to know something about real estate and even copyright. 

But Little Timmy doesn’t care, you parry.  Ah, this is where the demands on the Lawprofs become critical.  Make him care.  Engage him.  Worry less about how real estate law impacts the rights of Hogwarts versus the Ministry of Magic, and get down to the real world.  If you cannot find a way to make your subject of interest to law students, then you aren’t doing your job as a law professor.

Lawyers tend to be natural raconteurs.  We use our skills to weave a story to make a point.  We take our experiences (of course, you need to have experiences to make this work) to explain why some arcane piece of law matters today.  If our actual experiences don’t quite match our purpose, we take some literary license because we know that a story only works if its interesting and on point.  Is there a reason that lawprofs can’t do this as well?  Hey, you’re lawyers.  Figure it out.  You can be interesting.  You can engage your students.  And if you can’t, then you are not doing anyone any good as a lawprof.

Next, we have the disconnect between law school and law reality.  Students want to learn how to be lawyers.  By third year, it generally dawns on them that they don’t have a clue what being a real lawyer is all about.  Sure, they’ve read 942 Supreme Court decisions, but a few will come to realize that they won’t be arguing before SCOTUS in their first 6 months of practice.  So what are the capable of doing?  Nothing.  Zero. Nada.

When I went to law school, a lot of us were relatively poor and needed to earn a living if we wanted to eat on a fairly regular basis.  This forced us to get jobs with lawyers.  Law review was for the rich kids who didn’t need to work.  We learned to prepare motions.  We learned to deal with clients.  We learned to figure out stuff effectively and then make it happen.  If we didn’t, we’d lose our jobs and have that whole eating problem again.  We liked to eat, so we didn’t screw up.

This apparently doesn’t happen anymore.  The why will be discussed when I get to the student end of the problem, but the point here is that law school has lost the connection between training lawyers and training law students.  Lawprofs want to be scholars.  How nice for you.  Third year law students need lawyers, not scholars.  They need lawprofs who have had real experience and can connect the theory to the application.  Law students need to be taught what lawyers actually do and how they do it.

If you want to enga
ge a third year law student, teach him how to be a lawyer.  Teach him strategy and courtesy.  Teach her why one makes a summary judgment motion and why one doesn’t.  Teach them how to do it.  When I read that most law professors aren’t even admitted to practice law in the jurisdiction where they teach, I nearly gagged.  You’ve got to be kidding?  How can a lawprof teach practice when they have never seen the inside of a local courtroom?   Who are you to tell them the right way from the wrong way when you don’t have a clue? 

Lawprofs need to get out of the ivory tower where they hide from the viscitudes of real law and spend some time in the trenches, where their students will soon be heading.  That’s where lawyers are.  That’s where your students want you to be.  No student cares how many law review articles you’ve published.  Actually, no one cares, except you and possibly your tenure committee.  If you want to teach law, know law.  If you want students to listen to you, have something to say.  If you want to engage your students, stop being a bore and start earning your salary by teaching them what they’ve come to law school to learn.  But whatever you do, stop blaming your students because you’re a bore and have nothing to offer them.