CELL Blog | Center for Engaged Learning in the Law

This weekend I served as a scoring juror for one round of the high school mock trial competition sponsored by the NC Advocates for Justice. I saw only one round with two teams facing off. I don’t know where each team was from, or their individual circumstances. I have no idea of the back stories behind what I saw. But here’s what I do know:

The prosecution team was white. The defense team was black.

The prosecution team had 12 supporters cheering it on. The defense team had none.

The prosecution team wiped the floor with the defense team.

Again, I don’t know the back stories, nor from where each team came. What I do know is that my mother drove from PA to New Jersey to see my moot court competition, and would have driven to VA had I let her. What I do know is that the defense team looked lost, alone and frustrated in a world very far over its head and out of its grasp.

Was this a commentary on race? On parenting? On socioeconomic status? All of the above? I’m not sure, and I doubt I’ll ever be sure.

But I’m sure that the other jurors and the judge noticed it, too, and came to a similar conclusion: no one supports you … and it shows.

A long time ago I blogged that law school tended to suck the qi (life force inherent in all things) right out of you. Suddenly, happy-go-lucky folks are sulky and serious. Life isn’t all that much fun anymore. And you don’t really notice it because now all your friends are also law students and in much the same predicament as you.

Being a lawyer has pretty much the same effect. I remember those few glorious weeks immediately following the Bar exam. True, I didn’t get so much as a day’s vacation, but in those sunny days after a grueling 3-year “marathon,” followed by a nightmarish 2-month “sprint,” followed by a terrifying 2-day “dive off a cliff hoping there’s very deep water at the bottom,” life seemed glorious. I felt lighter. I smiled brighter. People noticed that I seemed extremely at peace with the world again. Heck, I even fell in love.

But then the rigors of real life set in amidst a bad economy and I did something I always knew I never, ever wanted to do: started my own law firm. And those 90-hour weeks I blogged about in November haven’t gone away. There is really no such thing as a night off or a weekend break. Some days sleep feels akin to malpractice. The stress of being the lead attorney, research assistant, bookkeeper, office manager, paralegal, and receptionist are enough to kill anyone, especially someone who is also the lone bread winner in a household of one.

And in the midst of that kind of stress, it would be easy to assume one’s humanity would start to slide just the way it did in law school. It would be understandable to see how one might see clients as ATM machines designed to pay your bills at all cost. One could rationalize the concept that I’m so busy looking after myself, there is no room left to look after anyone else.

But in the strange world of representing unemployed folks who have lost their benefits amidst an economy reluctant to hand out new jobs (especially to older people), quite the opposite occurred. In the midst of this world of creditors pounding on my clients’ doors, houses threatened with foreclosure, cars threatened with repossession, and 59-year old truck drivers in tears at the conference table, a strange and deep-seeded sense of humanity emerged.

Maybe it was the memory of my own mom fighting for unemployment benefits in the midst of the economic meltdown of the early ’90’s while trying to raise two kids on her own. Maybe it’s the rebirth of blue collar roots (of which I am prodigiously proud). Maybe it’s as simple as the very real issues facing my clients putting my “champagne problems” in perspective.

Whatever the reason, in the midst of a life filled with ridiculous amounts of pressure and stress, a humanity resurfaced in my life much to my own surprise. Raising money and resources for a good cause seemed a good idea recently. Building a house for some very poor folks in another country came to mind. Even simple things like telling my clients the truth about the merits of their cases instead of convincing them to bankrupt themselves for the sake of nothing but my own personal gain. And appreciating once again the reality of the human condition - the real life struggles of real life people who maybe didn’t go to college or maybe didn’t even go to high school, but who work damn hard for damn little and deserve a hand every now and again without going broke to get it.

It’s an odd turn of events to stumble into humanity again after a long time spent obsessing over statutes and loans and licenses. It’s a very nice turn of events. I wonder if my colleagues are experiencing this, too…

So a few things if you are an occassional or first time visitor.

1) At the bottom of each blog post is a link that says comments. You can find some good responses from classmates, the occassional professor, and visitors. Also, you can leave your comments, serious or sarcastic.

2) Additionally, CELL is actively seeking contributors. If you have some comments you would like to make about law school, life in general, or living in Greensboro, e-mail me at mgroves@elon.edu so that I can establish you as a contributor and have you start posting. You DO NOT need to be a student or even in the Elon community, so long as you are somehow related to the legal field. Again, the posts can be serious/not serious so long as they are loosely related to law and clear of (most) any profanity.

Forward any questions to the above e-mail…

Matt

In the intervals of spare time we have between days of studying for exams, hopefully you are aware that the year is winding down.  There are less than 2 weeks to Christmas, and less than 3 to New Year’s 2010.  Rather than looking forward to decide where I will be spending your New Year’s Eve, I prefer to look backwards to see where the year started and how much progress has been made for 2009.  Did I make this year better than the last?  Most people don’t keep track of things like this.   As we get older, years tend to blend together, until we can’t remember which year I took that vacation.  Suddenly, while paying at the gas station you look down and see that you can’t buy cigarettes unless you were born before this day in 1991.  1991?  Didn’t that say 1984 two weeks ago?  The point I want to make here is to take time to ensure that every year counts.  Don’t just say you’re going to do it, as you will when you loosely make resolutions in three weeks.  Actually find quantifiable standards to mark your progress towards making yourself who you want to be so that law school doesn’t turn out to be a 3 year black out on your life’s itenerary. 

Hemingway said there were three marks of a man:  writing a novel, fighting a bull, and fathering a son.  Now, certainly he didn’t do these things every year, but there was a goal, a clear path to that goal, and a time frame for accomplishment.  To make a well rounded person he included a serious intellectual, physical, and emotional challenge (respectively).  Do something that makes you realize your own mortality so that you remeber that you are in fact, alive.  That can be lost in reading days, especially when your library is two floors underground. 

If you ever hesitate to seize an opportunity, consider the alternative.  Where will you be in 10 years if you monopolize your day with law school, get straight A’s throughout school, take a 150,000/year job with a large firm and work 70-80 hours a week to come home to an empty, albeit well decorated, condo to sleep wake up and start over again?  You can say “there’s always Vegas,” and then realize that that was 10 years ago.  Or you can heed Morgan Freeman, “get busy living, or get busy dying.”

“Nunc lento sonitu dicunt morieris…”

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…

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!

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.