CELL Blog | Center for Engaged Learning in the Law

One of the great things about living in a city is that there is never a lack of things to do.  One of the great things about living in Washington, DC is that there is never a lack of great FREE things to do.  JFK said of DC, “it’s a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm.”  In spite of that, and the noticable lack of seasonal weather, it does have its high points.  Since the Smithsonian Institution recieves a federal subsidy, they are prohibited from charging admission fees to any of their museums.  I always thought this was compensation for locals after having to deal with hordes of tourists that smelled like sunscreen and had no particular direction when you wanted to visit the national mall.  However, about once every six months, when the weather was ripe for a long walk, you can take a trip wayyyy up Connecticut Avenue to the national zoo.  This was a perfect destination for locals because not only is it free, but it’s far enough away from downtown that most tourists can’t find it AND it’s such a long uphill walk that most parents are unwilling to push their strollers.

Obviously, the main attraction of this zoo is Tian Tian and Mei Xiang, the asian pandas.  Very few zoos in the world have pandas.  However, the exhibit I couldn’t keep away from was Luke and Lusaka, the African lions.  Luke was born in captivity in the fall of 2005, and has been displayed in Washington ever since.  Lusaka was a more recent addition.  Over the course of the next three years I was able to watch Luke’s de-evolution from King of the Jungle into zoo exhibit.

It was very obvious when he was young that Luke knew his place in the order of the jungle.  He was quite active and possessed a piercing roar from a young age.  Many of the trainers were apprehentious about entering the cage because he was quite unpredictable and liked to lash out, as young lions do.   The second time I saw him, I noticed a few bruises on his face.  I was told he has put his head down and run into the exhibit wall, thinking he could break free of it.  He also has a habit or coming fairly close to the edge of the viewing platform and roaring loudly enough to scare young children (and some unsuspecting adults).  This is why I liked him in the first place.  About a year later, on a return trip he appeared a little more reticent.  He walked, uncharacteristically, with his head down and did not fight to get out quite as much.  He still roared occasionally, but it lacked its awe inspiring volume and ferocity.   Finally, in 2008 in  my final trip before returning to North Carolina, I noticed that at only 3 years old, Luke looked defeated.  He lied around a good portion of the day with the other lions and did very little to frighten or entertain anyone.  It appeared as though he had accepted his role as a captive.

I did not think much about this until this time last year.  Such is the plight of a first year law student.  For those of us coming from the working world, we re-enter the world of academia having spent years accomplishing and building not 0nly a career, but a life.  Though we are cognitively aware of what is ahead of us, we fool ourselves into thinking that you can be built up without first being broken down.  In the initial months, we overlook the fact that we often don’t leave the law school until the sun goes down, and that we spend so much time reading that we lose track of the news and the world around us.  Days melt into each other until you don’t know which is which, only how many more until the weekend.  Studying and sleeping become so ritual that we only stop a few times mid semester to think, “man, this month has gone by quickly.”  The strain of a new schedule shakes you of your hold habits, hobbies, and more often than not, friends.  It is very easy to fall into colleagialrelationships with your classmates, and then realize you rarely see some of them outside of school.  Half way through the semester, you tend to accept a fate you spent the first several weeks trying to fight.  Other aspects of your personal life begin to suffer in the weeks preceding exams, for some, even hygiene goes out the window, as cognitive dissonance tells you that “it’s ok to show up to class in sweatpants.”  You become short tempered with your family and friends because you want to strangle the next person that asks, “How law school going?”  It’s a bad place.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel, even so early in the academic career.  First, we’ve all been there.  Now, we’re all out of it.  Trust us, you’ll get there too.  Further, once you’ve hit what you consider rock bottom, the rebuilding begins.  Around the late spring of your first year, you realize you’re a lot smarter than you used to be.  When internship hunting season comes around, you have the opportunity to get out, and meet people; people who do things; productive members of society, like you used to be.  Hopefully, by this many months into the year you’ve also shed yourself of your corrosive drinking habits (to some degree) and regressive early 20s behavior.  Without notice, you’ve become an adult.  You actually enjoy spring break, instead of spending thanksgiving break in the library.  And when you reemerge in society people respect the sacrifice you have made to pursue a higher level of education.  Because out there, unlike in here, not everybody is in law school.  You can step back and look at yourself and see that you are building towards a new career.  In a spring semester where there are no quizzes and you have no idea where you stand, this is the sign that you are successful.  Anyone can get an education, it’s the social development that will make you a successful lawyer.  (Because, evidently, it doesn’t stick for everyone.) 

So hang in there, and be lucky.  Unlike the lion, your captivity has an end game.  Just don’t lose your roar in the process, it’s always good for a few chuckles.

Since we have entered law school we have been inundated with gloom and doom advice about the state of the legal economy.  Each week’s ABA newsletter last year seemed to highlight another several hundred jobs cut at some big city firm, partner’s asked to give up some job perk, and ominous undertones implying those of us still in school would not likely find work.  Being a first year student I felt the same way I felt about all tragedies that didn’t directly effect  me… so what?  But as months went on, and I heard nightmares of recent graduates, it occurred to me that there had to be a solution for this predicament of too many lawyers not enough jobs.  This post is my answer, which will inevitably be ignored:

Now I admit that I am not a brilliant economic mind.  In fact, economics is the primary reason I changed majors in undergrad, eventually leading me to law school.  But I think I have a handle on the basics, and the legal job market seems to be a pretty basic concept to me.  As supply goes up, demand goes down.  Profound, ain’t it?  But believe it or not there are a finite number of legal problems in America; as we continue to fill the job market with new lawyers it resembles a cup under the faucet (or spicket, if you are from North Carolina).  If we do not soon turn off the faucet, we are left with a big mess.  This seems to be the only logical solution, since lawyers have already tried the opposite approach, creating more problems to support the growing field.

To clarify “turning off the faucet,” I mean regulation.  A nationwide proposal amongst every accredited law school in country to not accept a class of 2013.  To draw an academic parallel, no less a groan from my classmates, you will recall the Supreme Court tried this in Wickard.  The government said stop producing this product in excess because doing so is dragging down the national post-depression economy.  Needless to say we are again in a post-recession/depression economy, and need to be particularly cognizant of society’s needs.  I foresee two primary benefits to this approach.  First, we take some small measure to thin out the “job-seeking” crowd.  By reducing the denominator in the jobs to lawyers ratio, we would ever so slightly lower unemployment.  Secondly, and perhaps more importantly it would strengthen the talent of the next class that is produced.  Having twice the population competing for the same number of spots allows only the best to continue their training, instead of simply applying until you get accepted somewhere. 

The obvious argument against is that this would be “bad for business.”  But, I have to question the validity of this.  One of my numerous and sordid jobs prior to law school was working at the Maryland Fund for Excellence.  You know us as, “Hi.  I’m from your college.  Give us money!”  In any case, one of the facts from our script was that state funds (at a state school) only covered about 50% of the cost of a student’s education.  Now, couple this with another fact.  I had the occasion to meet the associate dean of one of our near peer law schools over summer break.  This person said they had admitted over 220 students into the Class of 2012.  Now for the hypothetical…

If there are 200 students at 100 recognized law schools, creating a 50% of 1 student’s tuition deficit [let's round it off at 40,000/year, though Elon is markedly less].  This is 20,000 students times 20,000 dollars, creating a $400 million deficit.  Traditionally, this is covered by raising tuition rates for students for whom, as it stands, there are bleak job prospects at the end of the line.  If we were to cut a class for a year we would not only lower the variable costs of running the business, but allow professors with newly found free time to pursue new methods of teaching and research.   This has the collateral effect of adding value to the teacher, and perhaps, the school.  This way, perhaps we would produce better lawyers, instead of just more…

A lot of wonderful folks yet to take the Bar ask for my advice these days, and I think it’s time to share my enlightened wisdom with the masses…

1. To Thine Own Self Be True

By the time you sit for the Bar, you’ve been through three long, hellacious years of law school. And passed! By now, you ought to know what works for you and what does not when it comes to studying. If you don’t, then you can stop reading now because nothing else I say is likely to help you. Really. I mean that. Just stop.

Realizing that different material often requires different study techniques (e.g. I flow-charted Con Law, flashcarded (not a word) the hell out of Torts, and outlined Wills until my eyes blurred), take some time to seriously asses the beast you face and the best way to kill said beast. Will you make flashcards? Outlines? Practice hypos? All of the above?

The only correct answer is the one that will enable you to pass the Bar, regardless of what your professors, BarBri, and your ever-wise friends may tell you to the contrary.

2. It’s NOT About the Hours!

The single most asked question regarding the Bar exam is, “How many hours are you putting in??”

The single best answer to this question is, “Who gives a crap!? Bugger off!”

Passing the Bar is NOT a question of hours spent studying! IT. IS. NOT!!!! Do not be fooled by the “Oh, I arise with the dawn and study ceaselessly until the bewitching hour” idiots. They’re probably going to fail. Because they’re “studying” a lot, but they’re probably not studying well.

Studying for the Bar, in my humble opinion, should be a checklist, not a stopwatch. Make a list of things you must accomplish before you sleep. Then make a list of things you’d like to accomplish, but could always do on Sunday if sleep finds you sooner rather than later. Crack down the list until the list is finished. Then STOP.

If it took you 12 hours, oh well. That’s life during Bar study. If it took you four hours, DO NOT FEEL GUILTY! GOOD FOR YOU!! W00t!!!

Now, in the manner of Jesus, a parable to prove my point:

Two lumberjacks competed to see who could cut down the most trees (in the pre-environmentalist days … today it would be bamboo, but I digress). The first lumberjack worked day and night. He took no breaks. He barely ate or slept. He was a machine. The second lumberjack took a nice lunch break every day. He took an equally charming dinner. Called his wife to tell her he loved her (I added that part).

When the time came to see who won, low and behold! It was the second lumberjack. The first was confounded. “I worked around the clock! I never stopped! How did you beat me!?”

The second lumberjack replied, “Easy. I cheated.”

JUST KIDDING!!! THAT’S NOT WHAT HE SAID!!!

The second lumberjack replied, “It’s true that I took breaks. But I used those breaks to sharpen my axe.”

Cool, huh?

3. RELAX!!! Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

Stressing yourself out will NOT help you pass. IT. WILL. NOT!!! Admittedly, stress is part of the game. It just is, so accept that fact and don’t let it eat you alive. And DON’T make it worse!

I suggest easing into Bar study. The first week of BarBri (or whatever) is not an ultimate predictor of success. It’s a time for you to figure what the heck is going on and what happened to your once happy life. Ease in. Remain calm. Everyone else is just as lost, hopeless, panicky, and freaked the heck out as you are. EVERYONE. (And if they say they’re not – like on Facebook – they’re lying.)

After about a week or two, kick it into gear. Now you have an idea of what’s going on and how little you learned in law school. Make your checklist. Attempt finishing it every single day. DO NOT EXPECT SUCCESS. The point of BarBri is to set you up to succeed … eventually. If you could pass the Bar in the first week of the class, you wouldn’t need the class!! So relax!! Everyone else is failing to some extent, too. EVERYONE. (And if they say they’re not – like on Facebook – they’re lying.)

When BarBri (or whatever) ends, you’ll be a couple weeks out from the Bar. Ease out. OUT!!! I SAID OUT!!!! If you’ve kept up with your checklist, then you’re right where you need to be. If you made 1,200 flashcards (ahem), now would be a good time to learn them. While sitting on your balcony. With a beer. Then a coffee. Then a Bible. Now is also a good time to write practice essays. And re-write them. And RE-write them. (We Charter Class members are quite good at re-writes. Just ask us. We’ll tell you. We’re “masters.”)

When you’re a week away, accept that Jesus still loves you even if you fail; that you cannot possibly know everything you will need to know for the exam; that you’re powers of BS are exponentially higher now than they once were; and that now would be a good time to review, as opposed to learn. You will not learn. Anything. Nothing. Zero. What’s there is there. Sorry. Deal with it.

If you ease in, crank it up, then ease out (a lot like certain other pleasant life activities that work kinda well that way .. ahem), you’ll arrive at the exam a lot less stressed than a lot of people. Again, you WILL be stressed. But it’s better to be stressed, well-rested, and well-fed than just stressed. And your chances of success should increase dramatically.

4. Here’s What I Did, So If You’re JUST Like Me…

Again, I stress that success on the Bar depends on doing what works for you. That said, here is what worked for me.

I am NOT an outline reader. I do NOT have a photographic memory. I don’t care which genius professors tell you to just read outlines (ahem), if you can’t recall and use what you’ve read, then it’s useless. Needless to say, reading outlines and taking notes on said outlines is the thing I did the week before the Bar when I wasn’t going to learn anything anyway. It is NOT something I did prior to that point.

My checklist:

BarBri in the morning. No laptop. NO LAPTOP! GET OFF THE INTERNET YOU FREAKING CHILD! THIS IS THE DAMN BAR EXAM! GROW UP!!!!!

Excuse me. Terribly sorry. Where was I?

Right. After BarBri, I made an outline (made, not read) of the lecture notes. Then I typed flashcards based on that outline (50-100 per subject).

If I was still awake, I worked practice MBE problems either in the BarBri books or online.

Then I went to bed. Sometimes having (gasp!) not worked practice MBE problems! Oh, the shame!!!

Saturday was a day of practice essays. All day. Like 30 essays. In a day. Every Saturday. Sometimes I’d write the same one five or six times in a row until the law was nailed into my brain. But then, I really enjoy legal writing so it was kind of fun. Yep, I am that much of a dork.

And then I’d play golf.

Sunday was a day of rest on which I always felt too guilty to rest so I’d review flashcards. While watching golf.

All the other advice you [don’t] need will be heaped upon you in droves, rest assured. And whatever happens, you’ll most likely survive. And the sun will still shine. And all will be well in the end.

Last year, I was having a discussion with my writing professor about 9/11.  I was telling her how close I was to the Pentagon and the chaos that erupted from the lack of ability to use cell phones and check on loved ones.  A classmate of mine interevened saying she was in 9th grade at the time.  I was absolutely deflated.  While I realized that this event was some years ago, I did not know people that young could already be in law school.  For that crowd,  a brief explanation of stagflation.  Wikipedia (my Webster’s) says that stagflation occurs when inflation and stagnation occur at the same time in an economy and remain unchecked.  The gist of this during the OPEC crisis, was that while prices were rising and changes were being made in response to the problem,  it did not fix the problem. 

From the law school perspective, we are forever trying to make our school a community.  Seemingly, this is why we are in cohorts, why leadership is a mandatory course and why we have the preceptor program and the afternoon teas.  One of the most effective ways to get a student involved in the Elon community is to engage them in student organizations.  They have the ability to work without oversight towards effecuating a new angle by which we integrate our students to the Greensboro legal community.  Over the first three years of the school’s presence, we have developed approximately 20 organizations appealing to most every aspect of a student’s personality.  As you read, two more are in development.  But, with this blossoming supply side of new organizations, space and time for activities remain stagnate.    We have but so many rooms in which to meet in this building, and with everyone on different schedules, 12:15 - 1:00 has become the default meeting time.  This obviously leads to double booking.  Take today for example (though it’s no more special than the rest):  During the same time we had a Lexis study skills review, a Phi Alpha Delta meeting, and an Elon Law Republicans meeting from 12:15 - 1:00.

Until we can master cold fission and replicate ourselves, certain decisions will have to be made.  Do I know enough about online research to sacrifice this review session for a legal fraternity to whom I have an obligation?  Can I miss out on a first meeting of an organization I would like to be a part of for the same reason?  And the logical question, which meeting has the best free lunch?  Seemingly, you could catch any one of the three on the second meeting, but most organizations only meet once a month, and this conflict of time and space seems to be a repetitive one.  In a separate dilemna, you may have to put an organizational meeting which you are chairing in front of a career services program you have been awaiting for sometime.  This is never a wise decision. 

So, if we are already stretched thin on our schedule, what then serves the purpose of continually accrediting organizations?  Instead of double booking, we will be triple booking, and so on.  Unless we can find more resources to accomodate for the operations of each organization, we are only allocating student funds to groups with low student support.  Further, if you are a member of multiple groups and only attending meetings on a rotating basis because of the conflict, how involved can you actually be?

I am, however, an advocate of not complaining about a problem unless you have a solution.  Here it is.  Monday and Wednesday - administration days.  Career Service functions, Let’s Study meetings, Town Halls, SBA/Honor Council issues.  Tuesday/Thursday/Friday - Student Organizations.  Divide each lunch hour into three 20-minute sections.  Think about all the meetings you have attended this year; each could easily be condensed into twenty minutes of actual work.  Admittingly, once or twice a year, extra organizations would have to suck it up and hold a meeting from 8:00-8:30 AM, or 4:00-5:00 PM.  However, doing so would afford each student the opportunity to become as involved as they want to be with each organization.  It would also have the collateral benefit of allowing each organization to weed out the members who show up once a semester to secure the organizational name on their resume and are never seen from again.  And all the while we spend more time at the school attending these meetings, the building starts becoming a community, instead of a place of business from 9-5 like the rest of downtown Greensboro.  Now if only we can convince the restaurants to stay open past 3…

First year law students seem to have it made.  There is a brief ’smack in the mouth’ period until you realize how to adjust to a new life style, but ultimately you still hold the power.  Unhappy with your school?  Transfer up.  Need more scholarship?  Transfer Down.  Unsure how to handle yourself in professional situations?  There are literally volumes of books (and blogs posts) on how to make the transition to being a law student.  You don’t have to pick your classes, or who you hang out with (thanks to the cohort system), you are assigned an advisor and a preceptor to smooth the transition and give you some vision, and everyone is excited to welcome you to the school.

Third year students see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Granted, the bar looms in the distance like a severe thunderstorm, but many have just finished a summer internship that has given them some direction in life.  Some have standing job offers, some have a practice certificate so they can begin giving pragmatic meaning to their studies.  Some have prepared so well that they can coast down the road to graduation with electives and bar prep classes.

But what about the middle children?  The work load increases, because there are no ‘gimmes’ like first-year leadership.  You have some autonomy, but not enough to escape a pre-determined eleven credit workload.  You are forced to decide upon a specialization, which will mandate some classes that of absolutely no interest to you, regardless of your desired sector of the law.  And you must answer the overarching question of ‘What do I want to do with my life?’  This is the same question that many of you came to law school to avoid answering for another three years.

Somewhere in between the booze and coffee is the equilibrium of the second year student.  They suffer from what I call 20 to life, representative of the mentality of a prisoner who has been sentenced to a minimum of 20 years in prison.  You are too far into law school, in time and money, to get out and it is too late to decide you want to finish somewhere else.  So you are stuck roaming the halls, isolated from society and entrenched in a close knit circle of people in the same situation as you, perpetually talking about what you ’should’ have done.  Against your will, the better part of the day is spent inside, while your body and your non-legal mind suffer the consequences.  No news, no pleasure reading, no exercise, just food/sleep/study/repeat.  I know the feeling well because it is much the same in the working world.  The phrase actually came from a guy who worked the midnight shift with me at the courthouse.  Biggest difference between here and there - we are not getting paid. 

Anyhow, this guy had been police for 10 years working from 11pm-11am most days, and was always in a good mood.  He was forever talking about his intramural football league.  He commuted almost an hour each way to practice twice a week, and once for games, from north of DC down to Gravelly Point, VA to play in league with no prize money, just pride.  But, football was what made him him.  He was always taking bets on the Atlanta Falcons when they played against your team, and talking about fantasy football when the rest of us walked around staring at the ground, drinking coffee, feeling tired and grumpy.  It was difficult to find someone who was energetic enough to throw a football around the office at 4 am on Tuesday morning after 5 hours of roaming the inside of  courthouse, staring at marble walls.  However, he was also the most well-liked guy on the shift because of his optimism.

Point is, in this arduous, and sometimes maddening process of school, you have got to find what makes you you.  Maybe it’s basketball, maybe it’s volunteerting, maybe it’s writing, but whatever differentiates you from the red eyes and noses buried in books is what will save you from crashing and burning.  Everyone tells your first year that you have to dedicate a night a week to your significant other if you want to make it work.  But, you must also allocate time for yourself.  It gives you stories to tell your friends, a means to relate to strangers, and talking points in your job interviews.  If you do not, at the end, we will all just be lawyers… and I don’t think anyone really wants that.

This is the third and final installment of guest posts derived from my recent book: 1L of a Ride: A Well-Traveled Professor’s Roadmap to Success in the First Year of Law School (Thomson West 2009). Part I addressed psychological distress in law students. Part II explored the perilous second semester.  This post discusses academic research that provides answers to a hodgepodge of important/interesting questions about legal education and success in law school.

III. Surprising Empirical Answers to Law School Questions You May have Wondered About 

Scores of studies have been conducted about law students, legal education, and teaching and learning in general, yet this research data is often overlooked in giving advice to law students.

Did you know that the LSAT is not nearly as strong of a success predictor as most people assume?  That students who sit in the front of classrooms get higher grades than those who sit in back? That women participate in law school class discussion at lower rates than men? That, contrary to student belief, the brain cannot multitask in class without one of the tasks suffering?  That the conventional wisdom to not change initial answers to multiple-choice questions is completely backwards?  Read on.  (As with my other posts, I’ve omitted the citations, but can provide them on request.)

LSAT Correlation to First-Year Grades.  Most law school applicants and students are aware that the Law School Admission Test (LSAT) is the most heavily weighted factor influencing law school admissions.  I’ve served on admissions committees at three different law schools.  At each school, I’ve protested while seeing students with undergraduate GPAs barely above a 2.0 get admitted because of a good LSAT score, while students who have proved themselves through four years of college with outstanding GPAs get rejected because of average LSAT scores.

Validity studies do show a positive correlation between LSAT scores and first-year grades, but the correlation is not nearly as strong as most law students believe. Correlation is measured by a coefficient for which 1.00 represents a perfect correlation and zero shows no correlation beyond one attributable to random chance. In 2005, the Law School Admission Council, the good folks that administer the LSAT, conducted a validity study using data from 181 law schools.

The median correlation between LSAT scores and first-year grades was only .34. The correlation varied wildly among schools, from a high of .56 (reasonably strong correlation) to a low of .04 (virtually no correlation). The correlation was higher when LSAT scores were considered together with undergraduate GPAs, ranging from .24 to .65, with a median correlation of .46.

So take heart.  While the LSAT does measure several important abilities―primarily the abilities to engage and manage complex text―your LSAT score does not predetermine your fate.  Like all law profs, I’ve seen students with low LSAT scores excel and students with chart-topping scores flunk out.

Seat Location as Tied to Academic Performance.  I always encourage law students to sit in the front of the classroom, convinced it enhances their law school experience.  Now I have some research to back up my recommendation.  Non-law school educators have conducted a variety of studies on the relationship of seat choice to student personality type and academic performance. They support one proposition quite clearly: students who choose to sit in the front of the room are disproportionately better students. They have higher GPAs, participate more frequently in class, and receive better grades in the course. One study, for example, found that students sitting in the front received higher percentages of As and students sitting in the back received higher percentages of Ds and Fs.

Several studies have linked this better performance to personality differences between students who choose to sit in front and those who choose the back. In other words, with regard to the cause and effect relationship between seat selection and academic performance, research suggests that students who sit in front by choice do better because better students choose to sit in front.  But at least one study suggests that sitting in the front is actually causally related to better academic performance.

Don’t be a backburner!  Grab a seat near the front in all your classes.

Class Participation Rates between Men and Women.  Unsurprising to anyone who has been involved in legal education for any period of time, several surveys show that female students voluntarily participate much less frequently in law school classes than male students (although my Torts class this past year was a notable exception). For example, a survey of students at the University of California at Berkeley found that a majority of women, and also persons of color, never asked questions or otherwise voluntarily participated in class, while almost two-thirds of white male students reported doing both.  The survey is dated, but the results are consistent with current experience.

Reasons offered by scholars as to why the Socratic method negatively impacts women include increased feelings of alienation and fear, the adversarial and competitive nature of the method, sexist conduct by certain male professors, an interest in protecting the sanctity and integrity of one’s beliefs, less willingness to engage in grandstanding, a lower interest in dominating class discussion, and—I love this one because it’s so true—better recognition by women than men of the limits of one’s knowledge. In short, male students, as a group, are more willing to engage in the adversarial, competitive “sport” of the Socratic method than women.  As noted, the same surveys show that minority students also participate at lower rates.

This data is important because class participation carries several benefits with it, some tangible and some intangible: (1) Active student participation in class discussions adds to the energy level and sense of community in the classroom, making for a more lively and memorable experience for everyone; (2) You will better remember the classes in which you participate and feel more satisfaction about your law school experience; (3) Participating sharpens your oral communication and group speaking skills, essential abilities for all lawyers; (4) Your professors want to get to know you, but with so many students, we can=t realistically accomplish that unless you speak up from time to time; (5) It is an established fact of legal education that if you volunteer even once in a while, you will get called on less often when you are not volunteering; (6) Finally, many professors raise grades for class participation.

Multitasking with Computers in Class.  The use of computers in law school classrooms is quite controversial among law professors, with some professors banning them and others threatening to do so.  Profs Kibosh Students’ Laptops blared a headline in the American Bar Association Journal. The Washington Post published an op-ed piece by a Georgetown law professor advocating a classroom computer ban.  Every time I think the great law school computer debate is about to die down, some prof will stir it up again on the lawprof listserv, igniting yet another torrent of email on the subject.

A primary concern professors have with computers is that too many students check out of the class discussion to web-browse, check email, send instant messages, etc.   Gen Y and Millennial students respond that they are so skilled at multitasking that they really can learn law and check sports scores at the same time.

Is it true?  Research suggests the answer is “no,” or at least “not as effectively.” Studies regarding the ability of the brain to engage in simultaneous tasks show “almost without exception” that the performance of one or both tasks directly suffers.

In one study, researchers tracked the wireless computer activity of students during class. Not surprisingly, the study showed students used their computers for a wide range of functions unrelated to the class, such as email and web-browsing.  The researchers then divided a class into two groups.  Prior to a lecture, one group was told to use their computers as usual, while the other was asked to close their computers. Afterwards, the researchers gave the students a surprise test.  The students who used their laptops during the lecture performed significantly poorer on the test.  Two months later the researchers replicated the test by switching the two groups of students and got the same results.

Another study suggested that even if multitasking does not necessarily decrease the overall ability to learn, it negatively affects the kind of learning used to acquire new concepts and information and to engage in deep analysis—learning abilities that are critical to law students.  Researchers did MRI brain imaging of fourteen twenty-somethings engaged in dual-task learning.  The brain imaging showed that multitaskers engaged in “habit learning” rather than “declarative learning.”  Habit learning relies on a portion of the brain used for repetitive skills, whereas declarative learning involves a portion of the brain used for storing and recalling information.  Basically, the researchers concluded that even though people can learn while multitasking, they can’t learn the material as well or be able to adapt it to changing conditions.

Even if you’re adept at multitasking, the research suggests you can’t do all the tasks well because of the brain’s limited processing ability.  So if your professor is defining the Rule Against Perpetuities at the same moment you’re updating your Facebook status, something has to give.

Changing Answers on Multiple-Choice Questions.  Ever since I was in elementary school, teachers have admonished not to change initial answers to multiple-choice questions because it’s more likely you will change an answer from right to wrong than from wrong to right.  Well, guess what?  The advice is completely backwards.  Study after study, some of them dating back to the 1920s, consistently show that changing multiple-choice answers is more likely to increase—not decrease—test scores. An example: a study of upper-level accounting students showed that 95 percent of the students changed answers on their multiple-choice examinations (changing a total of 5.6 percent of the answers).  Fifty-six percent of the answers were changed from wrong to right, while only 21 percent were changed from right to wrong.  The remaining 23 percent were changed from one wrong answer to another wrong answer.  These results are consistent with other studies.

Conclusion.  Thanks to the CELL blog editors for giving me the opportunity to share some of the things I learned in writing my book about first-year law school success.  It’s been fun!

“I began by saying that our history will be what we make it. If we go on as we are, then history will take its revenge, and retribution will not limp in catching up with us.” Edward R. Murrow spoke those words in 1958 during a notorious speech in which he railed against the very institutions that allowed him to attain his legendary notoriety and success. “We are currently wealthy, fat, comfortable and complacent. We have currently a built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information,” Murrow insisted. I agree.

Murrow began that speech with the famous line, “This just might do nobody any good.” This blog, too, might just do nobody any good. And, as per usual, it will probably end up insulting the very institution that allowed me to attain levels of notoriety reaching the coveted SBA “Most Likely To Make A Sarcastic Comment” Award. Yet, a week from graduation, it seemed to me suddenly important to impart a few feelings on the topic of legacy.

It always seemed to me that a law school was a place to train advocates. Black’s Law defines an advocate as a person who assists, defends, pleads, or prosecutes for another. Is that what we’ve done? Or have we trained people to be wealthy, fat, comfortable, and complacent? Have we trained them to look adversity in the eye and tell it where to go, or have we taught them to not to rock the boat – keep the waters calm at all cost – owing to our own built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information?

I realize the line between advocacy and complaining is a blurry one, and I am quite guilty of helping to blur that line. I realize there is a time and a place for “correct” answers and a totally different time and place for honest ones. But it always seemed to me that when the cause was right, the risk of blurring that line and being honest was one worth taking. Whether it was our excessive waste of paper, gender issues, the need for a strategic plan, the quality of the education, or the direction of the school in general, all those causes seemed awfully worth the risk of expressing a dissenting opinion.

And a legacy of well-placed dissenting opinions is one legacy I hope the Charter Class leaves behind. “Dissent: it makes the good things better and the bad things crumble.” Sometimes dissent sounds an awful lot like whining and other times it’s audacious enough to widen the eyes and raise the eyebrows of giants. But more often, dissent is the only form of communication with any power whatsoever to achieve any real change. Making the comfortable uncomfortable and getting the complacent off their “wealthy surpluses” is the only real way to accomplish much of anything an awful lot of the time.

Yes, the boat will rock. Yes, eyebrows will raise. Yes, people will get awfully uncomfortable and shift uneasily in their chairs. But, if the cause is right, the risk will be worth its taking. And maybe – just maybe – instead of churning out wealthy, fat, comfortable, and complacent yes-men, we’ll churn out some advocates instead.

Our history will be what we make of it, Elon. From one member of the Charter Class to those who remain, here’s to hoping the legacy my class left behind will help in some small way to make that history great.

Okay so law school doesn’t actually get harder per se - but it does get busier.
1L year is tough. It’s was all about the learning curve for me. You have to re-learn how to think, analyze and study. You have to realize you take the professor, not the course. And you have to learn how to self-manage. These aren’t undergraduate courses that require 4 papers spread evenly throughout the year. This is a course where you don’t know if you understand the material until you’re in your third hour of the final exam.
But by the second year, you’ve hopefully made is over that curve. You know how to handle all the reading, how to study smarter not harder, and how to decipher what is important out of a 2-hour lecture. But second year brings about a whole new set of stresses. It just seems like the second year is when they pile everything on your plate. There is moot court, law review and the leadership positions you find yourself in other clubs and groups. There are extra lectures to help you figure out what kind of law you want to practice and decisions about what bar review courses to go ahead and sign up for. Not to mention applying for every summer associate position you hear about. And on top of that, there are still your classes that need every bit of your attention to be successful in.
It seems like every day there is another “brown bag” lunch to attend. Law school is notorious for its academic rigor. But what’s less recognized is that law school is just as demanding in all aspects of your life.

“What if I got it wrong, and no poem or song could put right what I got wrong…?”
-Coldplay-

My mother makes the most beautiful baskets. From scratch. By hand. Really, they’re just unbelievable. I told her to sell them, and her response was that she couldn’t possibly; not because she’s attached to them, but because “each one contains at least one tiny flaw, and I wouldn’t feel right selling them that way.” My mother is paralyzed by perfection. Guess who inherited that trait?

Bingo. This week at Legal Aid it truly occurred to me that I, too, am paralyzed by the thought that I have utterly no business doing anything, let alone representing a client in court, if I don’t know how to do it flawlessly. I mean, hello! This is someone’s life. These are someone’s rights. And they’re in my very inexperienced hands. Oh. God.

While preparing for an in-person client interview with the very intelligent woman I’m soon to represent in Randolph County 50B court, I started writing out a few preliminary questions I’d like to ask her on the stand. OK, I’ll start with a little background, I thought. No, that’s not compelling. Start with a nice heart-wrenching statement of why she’s here – her fear of her husband and desperate need of a 50B – then move on to how awesome she is at her job of being a bioterrorism expert (seriously, this lady rocks). No, that won’t do either. That’s just freaking hokey. What is this, daytime television? OK, skip the plaintiff and move to the defendant. He’ll never admit to this on the stand. And if he won’t admit to it, how the hell will the judge know who to believe. We have very bad pictures of her eye after he shot her point-blank with a bb gun, but that doesn’t prove he shot her, only that she was shot. How the hell do I pin this guy down? Maybe I should have subpoenaed people. But who? Her kids? How awful would that be?? OK, f-ck this. Just wing it. Ahhhhhhh! This is so much harder without the little spiral-bound notebook of already-admitted facts!!!!!!

That was pretty much the thought process, and has been the thought process for most of my very short legal career and all of my pre-legal career. I just cannot fathom the idea of taking on a job I seriously do not know how to do … perfectly. It seems so … wrong. But, luckily for me there is an ounce or two of common sense to calm the fiery delusions, and here is what that common sense has to say:

One: the only way to learn is to do. Everything I have ever done in law school has filled me with dread (a fact my ego lies about rather effectively in the form of statements like, “Psh. Please. I don’t get nervous.”). Every time I’ve argued to a fake jury or stood before Justice Exum to rehearse an oral argument or submitted a faux motion or prepared a memorandum of law – every single time – I’ve been terrified. It would not be perfect. It would not even be close to perfect. But every single time I’ve gained invaluable amounts of confidence and even more valuable feedback from those who arguably know what they’re doing. And with each time, I get better and the given task gets easier. The hard part is convincing myself I have any business starting.

Two: no one does it perfectly; in fact, there’s no such thing. Sitting in Guilford County court on any given morning reveals this fact with PAINFUL force. Are these people really lawyers? How much did you, the client, pay him? Pay me half that much right now and I’ll do ten times better than this dweeb. I’ve seen lawyers ask questions to which they very clearly didn’t know the answer; lawyers fail to ask even a single follow-up question to actually make the point they started; lawyers whose idea of preparation was a legal pad of scribbled notes not even they could read; and lawyers whose “closing arguments” were terrific except for failing outright to mention the law upon which the argument rested. Seriously, some of it is appalling. And it really ought to teach me that it doesn’t take a mental giant to be a lawyer in district court, and that even the slightest bit of preparation on my part ought to do the trick. At the very least, I ought to be learning that there is no such thing as perfect and no matter how effective a given attorney might be, even effectiveness does not equate to perfection.

Three: we learn best through our mistakes. It’s trite and tired and true. What’s really scary is that whole fiduciary duty thing underlying the concept of making mistakes. I could make a mistake that allows a woman’s battering husband to abuse her again. Me. I could do that to her. Oh. My. God. But just like doctors will inevitably make mistakes that kill people (eeek! One more reason NOT to be a doctor!!), I, too, have to cope with the mistakes I will make and their ramifications. And instead of allowing myself to be paralyzed by fear at that thought, I should simply resolve to work harder to ensure it doesn’t happen.
Now if only I could convince my mother to sell those baskets…

A long while ago I wrote a blog entitled “A Culture of Complaining or Why Law Students Are Whiny Brats.” I argued that changing rules, deadlines, practices, and policies because students incapable of following them whine to you achieves naught but the following:

>>It sets everyone up to fail: the students will flop in the real world when the staggering realization of deadlines, fiduciary duties, inflexible senior partners, and even less flexible judges sets in; and the school will fail when the legal community realizes its churning out whiny toddlers instead of polished, professional lawyers.<<

Yet here we are a year after that brilliant missive, and again we find that rules are nothing but empty threats. Pandora’s Box is open once more, and this time, the issue revolves around the oft-doubted legitimacy of the school’s electoral process.

The gist of the story is this: during the recent elections, certain deadlines were made abundantly clear. They were stated in person to all candidates, as well as put in writing. This writing was signed by all candidates. One of the rules very clearly stated that failure to meet any deadline would result in removal from the ballot.

In an effort to jumpstart the process, a number of enterprising spirits decided to sign the Campaign Compliance Certification – a paper saying one had abided by all specific rules as set forth by the Elections Committee – and hand it in right there and then. Yes, this begs the obvious question: how can you affirm that you followed all the rules of a campaign that hasn’t yet started? On the basis of this seemingly obvious discrepancy, the forms of these enterprising spirits were refused. In constitutional terms, I believe we’d say the time for submission was “not yet ripe.”

Fast forward to harvesting time and the now-ripe (and oh-so-juicy!) forms are due by 5:00pm in much the same way complaints would be due at 5:00pm the day the statute of limitations runs. And in much the same way the courthouse would, the Elections Committee refused to accept said forms after 5:00pm, although those who sought extensions in advance of the deadline were granted them. As per the clearly stated, written, and signed rules, the names of those in total violation of this fairly simplistic deadline were removed from the ballot. The removal was by unanimous vote of the Elections Committee. And seeing as how these forms still had not appeared by 10:30pm, no one really felt too bad about it. (There were also issues regarding Facebook campaigning I decline to expound upon here; but suffice it to say the issues were resolved, again, by unanimous vote of the 5-person Elections Committee.)

The real-life grown-up lawyers with whom I have shared this portion of the story assume this is where the story ends. Not many folks with whom I have spoken (a small sample of humanity, I admit) understand that there would or should be more to the story than knowing a deadline, signing onto a deadline, missing a deadline, and dealing with the repercussions.

But ours is a world where there appears to be no real punishment for breaking clearly stated rules – rules from cheating to wearing business casual to “court.” And in such a world, all you have to do to get around any rule you like is put on your very best pouty face and whine that it’s just not fair.

And thus it came to pass that an emergency meeting was called; a debatable constitutional discrepancy was found (ah, loopholes); the once independent authority of a unanimous committee was made dependent; and those upon whom it was made dependent cast a wholly democratic and procedurally fair vote entirely consistent with the re-interpreted constitution and with an implied school policy that rules don’t matter.

All names removed from the ballot were replaced.

All names once on the Elections Committee removed themselves in protest.

And a name once on the student government roster removed itself as well: mine.

It’s as infuriating as it is disappointing that these precedents are so casually set. Why don’t rules matter to those who aspire to fiduciary positions? Why aren’t deadlines important to those for whom someone else’s life and property will depend on their ability to meet them? Why is personal responsibility a concept looked on with scorn and disfavor? Why are consequences run from rather than learned from? And where is the integrity to stand up and say, “You know what? I knew it; I did it; and I don’t deserve an exemption”?

I shudder to think that this is the legacy we’re leaving behind. I shudder to think that this attitude might actually follow someone into the legal profession, and what the consequences of that might be for some unsuspecting client. Will missing a deadline only become significant when someone’s claim for relief is denied because of it? When someone’s habeas petition is denied? When you’re sued – is that when it will be significant??

When Pandora’s Box is finally closed on this issue – a process being frantically attempted by those concerned over losing face – I very much doubt much will have changed. Attitudes are slow like that. But I sincerely hope that at least a few members of this, the “Entitlement Generation,” will have received a wake-up call. I hope a person or two yet to come of age will remember that rules mattered once, even if only for an hour or two, and that someday, they might not have the advantage of getting them overturned. Someday, someone with more clout than any of us might put his/her foot down, and a small whiny voice might be left squeaking from beneath it. Honestly, I hope it never comes to that. But if it does, I rest content knowing both that I tried to prevent it, and that I have absolutely no duty whatsoever to rescue them from it.