There are occasionally posts by law professors that reveal their hidden sturm und drang, the issues seldom discussed that annoy, if not anger them. Deborah Borman raises one such problem at Prawfs :
Now and again when a student does not like a rule for class conduct or a particular assignment we hear the cry: “we paid for this class so we can [miss class, come in late, turn an assignment in late . . . fill in the blank].” The “law student as consumer” dictating the course construct is a phenomenon that has likely been discussed here before, but I wonder if anyone has noticed an increase in these “consumer complaints” in recent years.
Why yes. It’s smeared across the blawgosphere. And it doesn’t end with law school, as former law students express their own anger at various scamblogs. Note that I hesitate to call them lawyers, as they are usually unemployed and not practicing, stunted in 3L and seething in the sense that they were induced by lies.
The attitude sounds more like someone who bought a consumer appliance that didn’t perform as well as the cool television commercial said it would. Their only responsibility was to plug it in and flip the switch.
This slackoisie grasp of education comes as no surprise. These students are the products of a generation of crass consumerism, a society interested more in spending than creating, obsessed with the purchase of shiny toys to prove their self-worth. The objects of desire, accordingly, are reduced to trinkets, things to be had for the mere purpose of having things. Education has been objectified.
The attitude toward education as a cash-and-carry business deal explains much about the slackoisie. This sense of entitlement is why they refuse to accept the proposition that the burden of achievement is theirs. They paid, or at least assumed the debt, for law school, and expect to get the benefit of the bargain. Where’s the pot of gold at the other end? Why are they also required to work hard, study hard, suffer the indignities of learning, when the tuition bill is paid in full?
But then, consider the academic response:
During my most recent consumer complaint experience, I was hosting a guest speaker who responded by telling the student that when she was in law school, one of her professors demanded that all students be in their seats by the start of class or they were locked out of the classroom.
This concept produced the response that the late student in that scenario was entitled to a refund for tuition. The guest and I indicated that when a consumer is late for other professional or paid services, such as a doctor’s appointment or a play, the consumer/patient/client/patron must also follow rules and often must still pay for that missed appointment or miss or enter a show during the second act.
Rather than tell the whiner that an education is both a privilege and opportunity for the student to prove himself worthy of the chance to fill a seat that could otherwise go to someone who would appreciate it, the reaction validates their consumerist belief that it’s nothing more than a purchase and sale of a commodity.
By comparing education to other goods and services, and putting it in the context of any other buying experience, Borman has similarly misapprehended what she, as professor, is doing there. She has reduced her role to education huckster, attracting students buyers with the half-price sales and two-fers, with the minor provisos of showing up on time.
Education is not at all the same as a attending a play, a license to watch with a condition that you not disturb other patrons who similarly paid for a license to watch. It’s nothing like a doctor’s appointment, where failure to show on time means you miss the appointment, but since we don’t pay for until the end, there’s no financial cost. Even so, that’s a cash-and-carry service; we go and pay for what we get. That’s not education at all.
There is nothing about law school that fits within the consumerist vision. You do not have the right to walk into Harvard Law School, lay your money on the table and demand a seat. You do not get to unbundle their services, buying only those pieces you want and electing, as consumers are entitled to do, not to purchase the parts that don’t interest you. You don’t own the chair of your choice in the classroom.
I’ve railed about the coddling students receive in law schools today, where Socratic method is eschewed because it harms the little teacups self-esteem to be held up in front of the class as fools and idiots, because they will surely learn that losing is a big part of the practice of law. The same coddling emerges in the complaint department scenario, where student’s expectations of concierge service from their professors is met with apologies and excuses rather than a smack of reality in the face.
I can still remember my college orientation, when the dean spoke to the incoming class and told us to look to the left, look to the right. “One of you will not be graduating.” Who that would be was up to us, and we were damn lucking to be given the opportunity to rise or fall. Our professors tolerated no insolence, and we learned quickly that we didn’t want to be on the wrong side of scholarly ire. We swiftly appreciated sitting in buildings bound in ivy rather than bunkers in a jungle, as did many of our older brothers.
A professional education is a privilege and opportunity, which students can either exploit or ignore. If the former, they will emerge capable of joining the ranks of professionals, assuming they have the chops to make it through. If the latter, hand them a dime. Why any lawprof or administrator would tolerate complaints is beyond shocking: it’s counterproductive.
Part of this education is learning their relative place in the scheme of a profession. Part of this education is coming to the realization that they aren’t the center of the universe. No law school should bear the motto, “ Nunc pretium tempor sollicitudin semper est recta.”
