Professors Michael Simkovic and D.A. Jeremy Telman have both written posts (here and here) praising the use of conditional scholarships for law students. Neither opposes the ABA’s recent rule, which requires greater transparency about forfeiture rates for these scholarships, but neither sees much value in the rule. Telman doubts that disclosure will affect student decisions, while Simkovic suggests that any concern over conditional scholarships was “yet another example of critics applying a double standard to paint law schools in the worst possible light.”
In reaching these conclusions, the posts compare law school conditional scholarships to similar awards at the college level. In the latter context, conditional scholarships promote matriculation, academic achievement, and on-time graduation. Neither writer, however, acknowledges a key distinction between colleges and law schools that administer these awards. At most colleges, conditional scholarships encourage all recipients to succeed. It is possible for all scholarship students to obtain the GPA and credit hours required to maintain the scholarship–and the college hopes that they will.
Some law schools play a very different game with conditional scholarships. These schools impose conditions that, because of mandatory curves in required first-year courses, a significant percentage of recipients will fail to meet. It is mathematically impossible for all scholarship recipients to keep their awards at these schools, and the percentage who will fail is quite predictable to the schools. These are hunger-game scholarships.
How Many Losers?
According to the ABA’s website, 124 law schools awarded conditional scholarships in academic year 2013-14. Eight of those programs were quite small, awarding fewer than 10 conditional scholarships and imposing almost no forfeitures. Sixteen schools, however, showed both a substantial number of conditional scholarships and a forfeiture rate of 50% or higher. At another 26 schools, the forfeiture rate fell between one-third and one-half.
Did these schools do a “poor job predicting which admitted students would excel in law school,” as Telman suggests? Probably not, unless they are perpetually bad at predictions. Forfeiture rates were high at most of these schools in 2011-12 and 2012-13 as well as in 2013-14. The other possibility that Telman suggests seems much more likely: These “law schools were playing a US News game, trying to get higher LSATs into the door without having to offer them three-year scholarships.”
Is there anything wrong with that? I see three problems. Two of them have been alleviated by the ABA rule, but I describe them to underscore the importance of that rule.
Information Asymmetry
The ABA rule addressed a marked information asymmetry between applicants and law schools. As Telman and Simkovic note, many colleges operate conditional scholarship programs and students understand those programs. That, however, was part of the problem. Law school grading is very different from college grading, and many students didn’t understand the difference when they accepted conditional scholarships.
A few years ago, a bright college woman was part of a group of law students I encountered at a coffee shop. The college student was interested in attending law school, and all of us encouraged her ambitions. Then the college student raised a question: “I don’t understand why law school is so competitive,” she asked. “It’s not like there’s a quota on the number of A’s or anything.”
The rest of us inhaled deeply as we prepared to explain the facts of law school life to her. In fact, there is a quota on A’s in first-year (and many upper-level) courses. There’s also a quota on B’s. And because of those quotas, there’s an effective quota on the number of students who will be able to maintain conditional scholarships.
The law schools understand the mathematics of this quite well, but many college students don’t. They are more accustomed to objective grading scales (85% of correct answers merits a B, no matter how many students reach that score) or very loose curves. Even a student who read the Wikipedia entry on law school grading curves, which Telman touts, wouldn’t understand the intersection of the curve with an all-required first year and conditional scholarships. (And shouldn’t a good college education teach them to distrust Wikipedia?)
The ABA rule has greatly reduced this asymmetry. Will it make a difference to prospective students? Professor Telman thinks not, but I disagree. We’ll see how application and matriculation rates work out at schools with the highest scholarship forfeiture rates.
Hidden Agendas
The second defect in conditional scholarship programs is the extent to which they allow schools to claim they are serving students when they are really serving their own interests. The goals cited by Professors Telman and Simkovic (i.e., encouraging students to study hard and to finish their degrees on time) are largely irrelevant in law school. Our students already work hard and finish their degrees on time. Law review membership, academic prizes, and employer preferences provide plenty of motivation for those goals.
If law schools truly wanted to assure hard work in law school, they wouldn’t award conditional scholarships to first-years. Instead, they would save some of their scholarship money to hand out as graduation prizes for the students who earned the highest grades during their final “slack off” semester of law school.
Similarly, if law schools want to encourage students to try law school with little risk, there are better options than high-forfeiture conditional scholarships. We could, for example, award a master’s degree at the end of the first year. The promise of that degree, with its opt-out option, might draw more students to law school than conditional scholarships.
Conditional scholarship programs with high forfeiture rates have one overriding goal: to secure the highest possible revenue for the school, along with the best possible LSAT and UGPA profiles. This is a game in which the odds greatly favor the house and, as long as schools could hide their forfeiture rates, it was unlikely that bettors would properly estimate those odds.
The ABA’s disclosure rule, along with the discussion prompting it, has made clear that many law school conditional scholarship programs exist to benefit schools, not students. When academic institutions engage in self-interested behavior, they should be upfront about those motives–not paper over their goals with proclamations of student interest.
Promoting Competition
My final objection to high-forfeiture conditional scholarships is one that the ABA rule did not cure. These scholarships increase the stress and competitiveness of an already stressful environment. Stress is not something that we should just “get over” or that students should “[wo]man up to.” Stress makes people sick, angry, and prone to substance abuse or mental illness. It can also impair their professional judgment, hurting both clients and lawyers.
I serve on the board of directors of the Ohio Lawyers Assistance Program (OLAP). That’s an organization, similar to ones in most states, that provides confidential assistance to law students or lawyers with alcohol, drug, or mental health problems. The demand for OLAP’s services is high–and we only see the people who realize they have a problem and are willing to seek treatment.
Many aspects of law practice are stressful. Working long hours is stressful. Responding to unbalanced clients is stressful. Losing a dispute is stressful. Unpaid bills are stressful. We don’t need to add to these stresses by increasing the stress level in law school. Contrary to some popular conceptions, increased stress doesn’t improve your ability to handle stress; it just makes you more likely to fall apart.
Helping Ourselves
I see little indication that conditional scholarships help students. The same money distributed evenly among recipients probably would better serve student interests. I’m not sure that these scholarships will even continue to serve law school interests. Law school finished sixth in a recent ranking of graduate degrees, not because our salaries are lower than those in the top five fields but because our stress level is higher. Some very smart people don’t want to waste hours dealing with manufactured stress.
In fact, that college student I mentioned earlier? She decided to take her career ambitions and graduate tuition dollars elsewhere.
More than thirty years ago, John Heinz and Edward Laumann published a pivotal study of the legal profession. Their book, Chicago Lawyers, focused on lawyers working within Chicago’s city limits, but the findings were widely accepted as representative of the profession.
The study’s primary conclusion was simple, but insightful. Heinz and Laumann concluded that a “fundamental distinction” divided lawyers into “two hemispheres.” One group of lawyers “represent[ed] large organizations (corporations, labor unions, or government),” while the other “work[ed] for individuals and small businesses.” The division between these two was so sharp that “[m]ost lawyers reside exclusively in one hemisphere or the other and seldom, if ever, cross the equator.” P. 319.
In addition to highlighting this bifurcation of the legal profession, Heinz and Laumann noted the strong status differences between them. The hemispheres were not equal in status. Instead, lawyers viewed the “organizations” side of the profession as much more prestigious than the “individual” one.
Heinz and Laumann, joined by two other prominent sociologists, repeated their study in 1995. That research, titled Urban Lawyers, concluded that this status difference remained. Indeed, it had grown even sharper. Lawyers viewed securities law as the most prestigious practice area in both 1975 and 1995; divorce law was at or near the bottom in both years. The percentage of lawyers viewing securities law as at least “above average” in prestige, however, grew from 75% to 85% over those two decades. The percentage according that distinction to divorce law shrank from 9% to 4%.
That’s a tremendous gulf.
The Two Hemispheres Today
No one, to my knowledge, has replicated Heinz and Laumann’s study for the most recent generation of lawyers. The After the JD (AJD) project, for example, did not ask subjects about the perceived prestige of practice areas. Every indication, however, suggests that status differences are alive and well in our profession.
In a number of online forums, prospective law students discuss whether particular law schools will secure them BigLaw positions or leave them stranded in “shitlaw.” These are more colorful descriptors than the ones Heinz and Laumann used, but I suspect they reflect a similar categorization of practice fields.
Legal educators often reflect the same attitude–although, again, with more polite language. Even when we note the drawbacks of BigLaw practice, we tend to praise jobs in smaller firms that serve corporate clients. Or we tout public interest work, which employs very few attorneys and is not a realistic option for most law graduates. How many law professors talk enthusiastically about representing divorce clients, workers’ compensation claimants, personal injury plaintiffs, and criminal defendants?
Some of us might say, “but that’s not my field–I can’t praise those practice areas because I’m not familiar with them.” But that’s just as true of the corporate work done by BigLaw firms; many of us don’t teach in those areas either. Yet we can all make appropriate comments about BigLaw jobs, congratulate students on landing those positions, and discuss aspects of that market. Very few of us know what social security lawyers do or how much they earn.
Implications
The existence of these two hemispheres has implications for the profession, the public, and the legal academy. Heinz and Laumann noted one of the effects on the profession. They found that law was a less cohesive profession than other professions like medicine. Lawyers in each hemisphere tended to socialize with one another, rather than with lawyers from the other side of the profession. In addition, the two sides often had conflicting professional goals. Rules that would help one hemisphere often hurt the other.
Heinz and Laumann also speculated that the two hemispheres affected public perceptions of the legal system. The two very different “bars,” they suggested, promoted a public perception that corporations and the government receive a different type of justice than individuals do. This part of their work is speculative–they did not study public perceptions directly–but it is an interesting thought to pursue.
The implications for the legal academy are equally profound. I hope to explore those impacts in a series of posts. Here, though, are a few hints of my views on this:
1. Lawyers working in the two hemispheres may benefit from somewhat different types of education, but the differences are much smaller than many observers believe.
2. Both hemispheres involve mundane, repetitive tasks, as well as intellectually challenging work. Similarly, effective education of “second hemisphere” lawyers is just as intellectually demanding as that for “first hemisphere” ones.
3. Thinking about the needs of second hemisphere clients will help us improve the educational experience for all lawyers. The most important changes we can make in law school, for all clients and lawyers, involve reducing our focus on appellate decision making and enhancing our attention to client interaction. This means much more than adding clinics to the third year; it involves reshaping even parts of the first year.
4. Second-hemisphere law supports just as much scholarship–including interdisciplinary and theoretical work–as first-hemisphere law. Embracing better educational opportunities for lawyers who serve individual clients does not mean abandoning scholarship.
5. Society needs law schools to educate students to serve the second hemisphere. It does not need law schools to educate students for JD advantage jobs.
6. On average, second-hemisphere jobs pay less than first-hemisphere ones. Legal educators have to be candid about this to themselves, applicants, students, and graduates. Law school tuition must take account of these differences, and we can do that without abandoning scholarship.
7. Lawyers, clients, and society would benefit from ending the sharp status lines that mark our profession. I’m not idealistic enough to think we can erase those lines entirely, but we should try to soften them. One way to do that is to reduce the status hierarchies we create within and between our own student bodies.
That’s a healthy agenda, but I’ll try to fulfill it.
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