Derek Bok served as dean of Harvard Law School from 1968-1971, a time of great challenges in higher education. Bok then took on the Harvard presidency, leading that institution for twenty years (1971-1991) with a reprise as interim president in 2006-2007. Over the years, Bok has drawn upon these experiences–together with prolific research–to write several insightful books on higher education.
Bok’s most recent book, Higher Education in America, offers a thoughtful overview of the problems and opportunities that face higher education. Bok neither glorifies universities nor deplores them; he offers pragmatic insights on a wide range of issues. Law schools receive a full chapter of Bok’s attention, and it is a chapter well worth reading. Bok does not plow new ground; he borrows from other scholars of legal education and the profession. Given Bok’s extensive experience and reputation in higher education, however, it is worth noting the points that he stresses.
[All quotes in the following sections are from chapter 13 of Higher Education in America. Working from an e-reader, I can’t give more specific page citations.]
The Employment Challenge
Bok is blunt about “the most serious problem facing law schools today.” “The crux of their predicament,” Bok states, “is that they are currently graduating far more students per year than the annual number of new legal jobs that are predicted to materialize through 2018 as a result of retirements and new openings.” The shortfall is not new: Bok notes that the economy produced 275,000 job openings for lawyers between 2000 and 2010, while “400,000 students graduated from law school.” During the current decade, he suggests, the gap will be even larger.
Some of these graduates, Bok acknowledges, will not want to practice law. “But enough of them will, based on past experience, to leave many of them unable to find a legal position even after the current recession ends, let alone a job with a high enough salary to allow them to repay their educational loans.” The inevitable result, Bok writes, is the one we are witnessing: college students are responding to the “dismal job market” in law by “abandoning their plans to enter law school.”
Bok makes short work of pleas to help students by liberalizing loan repayment programs: “such measures merely shift the financial burden to taxpayers while doing nothing to curb tuitions or to deter students from incurring excessive debts in the mistaken belief that they will somehow succeed in finding one of the coveted highly paid positions in a large law firm.” He also criticizes the inter-school competition that has “inflated faculty salaries, increased tuitions unnecessarily, and massively shifted financial aid from need-based grants to merit scholarships.”
The latter trends, Bok notes, have affected higher education more broadly; he criticizes inflated tuition and the decline of need-based scholarships throughout the academy. Law schools, however, seem to have increased tuition and reduced need-based aid more than other academic units–and are now suffering from a particularly severe employment crunch.
Pedagogy
In matters of pedagogy, Bok suggests that law schools may have been victims of their own early success. “Among the major professional schools, they were the first to discard the traditional lecture for a more active form of learning.” The case and “Socratic” method proved remarkably effective at introducing students to legal principles and critical thinking.
That success, however, “may have contributed to the lack of attention paid to other ways to foster effective teaching and learning.” As a result, law faculties have fallen behind their colleagues in other fields–including the arts and sciences–in both learning theory and practice. Bok criticizes law professors for their “constant” and “tedious” use of the case/Socratic method; harmful neglect of students’ self esteem; lack of feedback; and failure to require collaborative work.
Law schools, according to Bok, also “lag behind other faculties . . . in attempting to measure the extent to which their students are acquiring the knowledge or the competencies they need to perform effectively as lawyers.” When law schools do study those outcomes, the results are discouraging: One recent study shows that students make relatively small improvements in their legal reasoning ability after the first year. Their class preparation also drops markedly after that year. These findings, according to Bok, raise warning signs for legal education.
Clinics
Bok stresses the role that clinical education could play in improving legal education. In addition to adding necessary elements to the curriculum, clinical experiences could stimulate students’ flagging interest in the second and third years of law school. Bok also notes that clinical professors have led the way in stimulating innovative teaching at law schools. Those professors have pioneered a wide range of teaching methods and, along with professors of legal writing, have produced articles “discussing cognitive theory, . . . research on student learning, and their potential application to law teaching.”
As Bok concedes, clinicians don’t have it easy in the legal academy: “The principal impediment to achieving the full potential of clinical studies is the skepticism on the part of many members of the core faculty as to whether the training itself or those who provide it fully meet appropriate academic and intellectual standards.” Although Bok spent his faculty years as a doctrinal professor, he urges law school colleagues to shed this prejudice. “On balance,” he concludes, “the potential of clinical programs and their faculty to enrich legal education seems to justify a larger role than they are currently given in most law schools.”
And More
For further insights into legal education, I recommend the full book. Bok discusses the lack of legal services for low- and mid-income Americans, the difficulty of teaching professional ethics, and other key issues for legal educators. His exploration of other academic units is equally worthwhile. Bok’s views, based on a lifetime of experience and extensive scholarly study, deserve serious consideration.
The debate continues over the virtues and drawbacks of a two-year JD. Much of the discussion has raised useful questions about the goals we try to achieve within the JD program. What purpose does the first year serve? How do the second and third years build on those objectives? How do students best learn the doctrine, policy, analytic skills, and problem-solving capacities they need to become effective lawyers? Can it be done in two years?
Most comments, however, have focused narrowly on the JD program itself. Few participants have addressed the skills that students learn (or could learn) in college; the ones they gather in the workplace before, during, and after law school; or the academic study they might complete after graduation in a world of MOOCs and other online instruction. If we want to provide the best possible legal education–an education that serves graduates, clients, and society–we need to think of law school as part of a much larger educational system.
A recent essay by my co-moderator, Kyle McEntee, begins to add that perspective. Kyle argues that a two-year JD is plausible if we expand the notion of legal education beyond the law school walls. Most professional and graduate programs require students to complete prerequisites in college. If law schools followed that lead, we could deliver more focused, sophisticated content from the first day of classes. Similarly, law schools might address the need for specialized doctrinal training by creating post-graduate on-line courses for practicing attorneys.
These suggestions carry significant force. Could we, in fact, construct a worthy two-year JD if we better integrated that degree with the education that precedes and follows it? That question deserves further examination. Rather than pursue it today, however, I’d like to use Kyle’s insights to reframe the discussion.
A New Frame
I suggest reframing our discussion of legal education by asking four fundamental questions: (1) What does law school currently teach? (2) Which members of our society would benefit from all or part of that education? (3) Does our society need new types of law-related education? (4) How can our educational system most efficiently and effectively address the educational needs identified in response to these three questions?
Exploring these questions could take legal education in many directions. We might identify new ways to address our nation’s need for cost-effective legal assistance. We might also contribute to better workforce preparation among non-lawyers. We might even find ways to enhance high school education. For today, I’ll outline just one proposal that has emerged from my own pursuit of these questions: Create an undergraduate major based on the first two years of law school.
Law as an Undergraduate Major
This major would not be a “pre-law” one; nor would it be law school lite. I propose literally transferring the first two years of law school to the undergraduate curriculum. Like our current 1L and 2L years, the major would include a large number of required courses along with some electives. Undergraduates could share some of the electives with post-BA law students, just as undergraduates in other fields share some electives with graduate students.
Undergraduate law majors would complete several writing projects, just as today’s law students do in the second and third years. They might complete a law-related internship during the summer between their junior and senior years, again following the practice of today’s 1Ls. To graduate with honors, law majors would write a publishable law review note–analogous to the senior thesis required for honors in other undergraduate fields.
This new LLB would not qualify graduates to take the bar exam or practice law. To obtain a license, LLB’s would have to complete additional work in classrooms and workplaces; I plan to examine that work in future posts. The LLB, however, would serve many purposes short of admitting students to law practice. The law major would educate students in the critical thinking and problem solving that we teach during the first two years of law school. The major would also introduce students to the basic principles of our legal system, and it would give them experience interpreting cases, statutes, and other legal materials.
Like other liberal arts degrees, the law major would accomplish four related functions: It would develop the type of critical thinking that prepares graduates for citizenship, it would lay an intellectual foundation for work in many fields, it would give students intermediate-level knowledge in a particular field, and it would prepare students for graduate study in that field.
This proposal follows quite naturally from the four questions I posed above.
The Four Questions
1. What do we teach in law schools? Among other matters, we teach critical thinking, problem solving, and the use of policies and precedents to address complex social issues. We also teach fundamental principles of the legal system (torts, contracts, criminal law, civil procedure, business associations, etc.) and the basics of legal writing. We teach students how to find and interpret judicial opinions, statutes, constitutions, regulations, and other legal materials. We teach them how to relate legal issues to principles of economics, critical theory, philosophy, social work, and other fields of study.
Notably, we do much of this work during the first two years of law school. We continue this education during the third year, but most students make significant progress toward these educational goals during the first two years. Even interdisciplinary perspectives arise frequently in basic courses; we no longer save these insights for advanced seminars.
Law schools teach other material as well. We provide at least some education in client counseling, negotiation, drafting, and clinical representation. We expand upon the doctrinal and interdisciplinary insights of the first two years. We also offer a wide range of courses in advanced legal doctrine. These, like the subjects noted above, are essential parts of lawyer preparation. I omit them from further discussion here, because my current focus rests on the first two years of law school.
2. Who benefits from the education that occurs during the first two years of law school? Future lawyers undoubtedly do, and I would not eliminate any of these elements from legal education. But other citizens and workers would also benefit from this education. We have always recognized that fact in law school, noting the benefits of our degree program for business people, government officials, nonprofit leaders, and citizens of all types.
3. Does our society need new types of law-related education? Undoubtedly it does. Citizens lack representation in life-changing matters, including criminal prosecutions and child custody disputes. We need either to educate citizens to represent themselves or to educate more lawyers who will assist them. Regulation, meanwhile, is so ubiquitous that workers in many fields regularly address legal issues. Businesses can’t afford to hire lawyers for all of these matters; we need to educate other professionals to handle many of them.
If we consider critical thinking, creative problem solving, and clear writing as “law-related” skills, then our society needs even more types of law-related education. These skills are fundamental to today’s workplace; they appear at the top of most employer’s wish lists.
4. How can our educational system as a whole efficiently and effectively address these needs? Law school is effective in teaching 1L and 2L content to future lawyers, but it is not particularly efficient at the task. Students don’t encounter this material until they have attended (and paid for) four years of college; often, they also pay more per credit for this law school instruction than they do for college courses.
Why is this delay and extra expense necessary? Undergraduate majors in astrophysics, biochemistry, linguistics, comparative literature, neuroscience, and other fields master very complex material during their third and fourth years of college. They often receive that instruction in small classes taught by renowned scholars. Professors teaching in some of these fields could earn higher salaries in industry, just as some law professors could earn higher salaries in practice. If colleges can educate students in these fields, as part of the normal college program, why can’t we match that performance in law?
Future lawyers could learn the basics of critical thinking, legal reasoning, and legal doctrine in their last two years of college. They would still be able to devote at least half of their college credits to other fields, including subjects that would complement their legal education. Is it better to take introductory economics four years before studying Torts and Contracts, or just two years earlier? Wouldn’t it be beneficial to take economics and contracts from professors who are colleagues within the same college of arts and sciences? We could teach the first two years of law school just as effectively–perhaps even more effectively–in college as in law school. We certainly could reduce student costs by doing so.
Meanwhile, creating a rigorous law major would address some educational needs that go unmet today. Law schools have created one-year LLM’s for non-lawyers, but these programs are both expensive and unwieldy. The HR professional would benefit more from an undergraduate major in law than from a one-year master’s in the same subject. The latter costs more and delivers less. Compliance officers, similarly, would benefit from undergraduate legal education. So would some social workers, scientists, entrepreneurs, and software engineers.
It remains to be seen whether an undergraduate law major would help us meet the legal needs of low- and middle-income Americans, but it might. Creating an undergraduate law degree might spawn new ideas about educating professionals to meet these needs. At the very least, shortening the path to a law license would reduce costs for lawyers hoping to serve the under-served.
Conclusion
Legal education faces significant challenges, but so do colleges, workplaces, and the economy. We’ll reach the best solutions by thinking broadly. What do we teach? Who would benefit from that education? What other law-related education does our society need? How can we address all of those needs most effectively and efficiently?
Challenges in legal education, as others have noted, are part of deeper trends in higher education and the economy. My current work on a university-wide committee has taken me away from this blog, but it has increased my knowledge of other parts of higher education. Colleagues in many fields are struggling with “Robin Hood” tuition/scholarship practices; the growing gap between well-paid professors and low-paid teaching staff; and a new interface between the academy and workplace. Solutions are elusive, but these issues are provoking serious study.
In 2010, MIT President Susan Hockfield established MIT’s Production in the Innovation Economy (PIE) research group. Hockfield asked the group to study the decline of U.S. manufacturing, and to identify factors that might restore a more vibrant economy. The group conducted extensive research in the United States and abroad, produced a preview report, just released one book, and has a second book due in January.
What does any of this have to do with legal education or law practice? I’m struck by two points made in the preview report.
Products, Services, and Bundles
We used to divide the economy into products and services. Citing Harvard economist Richard Freeman, the MIT report notes that products are things we can drop on our feet. Services are less likely to hurt your feet, although they may mess with your mind.
Today, however, “the traditional line between ‘manufacturing’ and ‘services’ has become so blurred that it no longer serves to distinguish separable and distinct activities or end products.” (P. 10) Our economy still produces plenty of goods and services, but the economic “activities that create most value, that is, the ones that are most difficult for others to replicate, are bundles [of goods and services].” (Id.) Apple doesn’t just manufacture iPods; it sells a suite of goods and services that have changed the ways we listen to music, exercise, and learn.
Lawyers think of themselves as service providers, but many of our traditional services are quite product-like. You can, in fact, drop a contract, take-over agreement, or divorce decree on your foot. A box of documents, produced in response to a discovery request, could definitely stub your toe. These “products” result from intellectual work, but that’s true of any engineered item.
During the last decade, lawyers have been dismayed to see their services mutate more clearly into products. Want the paperwork for a simple divorce? You can buy it online or in a bookstore. Want to incorporate your small business? Those forms are available as well. E-discovery lawyers, working away at their basement computers, look more like assembly-line workers than professional service providers.
While lamenting this shift, legal educators and bar leaders have missed a key point: The most successful legal service providers have recognized that law is a bundle of products and services. We won’t get anywhere protesting the commodification of law practice. We have always produced commodities; form leases and form pleadings existed decades ago, and lawyers tweaked them for individual clients. Law has always included products.
Instead, we need to focus on the services that we can provide to accompany the products. “Service” doesn’t mean charging a lot of money to tweak the form pleading; it means providing the additional advice that clients actually want from their lawyers. To provide those services, the ones that will sustain lawyers during the next generation, we need to know much more about what today’s clients want. We also need to educate students in ways that focus on interacting with clients, determining what those clients need, and providing those services. Too much of today’s legal education still focuses on our products.
The concept of bundled goods and services can guide our way in legal education. Take a hard look at our curriculum. Which classes focus on products (the legal content we deliver to clients)? Which ones help students master services (listening to clients, responding to their needs, providing assistance that reaches beyond the legal product)? “Legal reasoning” and “thinking like a lawyer” don’t count as services in this rubric: those are necessary skills, but they are ones that lawyers use to design their product.
In the new economy, clients won’t pay much for legal products–they can purchase those at ever-declining cost. Instead, how do we educate students to provide the bundled service? Do we in legal education even know what those bundled services are?
Innovation and Production
The MIT report also stresses the feedback loops between innovation and production. Those forces have always depended on one another: R&D departments communicated with their production departments to refine concepts and perfect them for the market. “That’s because,” the MIT research group observes, “much learning takes place as companies move their ideas beyond prototypes and demonstration and through the stages of commercialization. Learning takes place as engineers and technicians on the factory floor come back with their problems to the design engineers and struggle with them to find better resolutions; learning takes place as users come back with problems.”
Over the last two decades, however, companies have separated these two functions. They have closed R&D departments, relying upon universities to provide innovation. At the same time, they have outsourced production to workers in other countries, placing research and production on separate continents. This trend toward separation, the MIT researchers contend, is one cause of America’s troubled economy. Companies in countries like Germany and China are moving ahead of us–in innovation as well as production–because they maintain close links between those functions.
Again, there is a lesson here for lawyers and legal educators. We have also increasingly separated innovation and production. I know some scholars who regularly test their ideas with practicing lawyers and clients, but I know many more who rely exclusively on academic workshops and conferences. Practicing lawyers contribute their share to this gap: many are too busy, or too focused on the short term, to spend time reflecting on new ideas.
Closing this gap could provide new energy for legal scholarship, as well as new products and services for lawyers to sell. Connecting research and practice doesn’t mean that all research will become client-specific, applied work. Other industries support plenty of basic scientific research because they know that basic research powers innovation. In law, we need to build the same infrastructure that other U.S. industries once had, and that MIT urges them to rebuild: collaborations that allow innovators and producers to learn from one another.
Cafe Manager & Co-Moderator
Deborah J. Merritt
Cafe Designer & Co-Moderator
Kyle McEntee
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