The BigLaw firm Patton Boggs announced yesterday that it was laying off 30 attorneys and 35 other staff members. The laid off lawyers were all associates or staff attorneys, but about eighteen partners have been notified that they should improve performance or find other work. With 485 lawyers on board, the lay-offs amounted to 6.2% of the firm’s legal talent. If the eighteen partners also depart, that would be a cutback of 9.9%.
According to the firm’s managing partner, Edward Newberry, the staff gave him a standing ovation after he announced the cuts. Those staff agreed that the firm was taking the right steps to make it “a great competitor in a very difficult legal market place.” Indeed, even as it cuts some attorneys and staff, the firm will move forward in other ways. It is opening an office in Dubai, moving support functions to a less expensive office in Northern Virginia, refurbishing the DC office, and looking to open an office in Houston.
The Patton Boggs announcement seems to mirror predictions published in a January report from Georgetown’s Center for the Study of the Legal Profession. The report was written by James W. Jones, a Senior Fellow at Georgetown who previously served as managing partner at Arnold & Porter, Vice President and General Counsel of APCO Worldwide, and Managing Director of Hildebrandt International. Georgetown’s Mitt Regan, the McDevitt Professor of Jurisprudence and well known expert on the legal profession, contributed. Jones, Regan, and the rest of their team know a lot about the legal profession–and they built this report on real data collected from firms.
The sobering conclusion of this report, presented in the opening lines, is: “At this point, it is becoming increasingly apparent that the market for legal services in the United States and throughout the world has changed in fundamental ways and that, even as we work our way out of the economic doldrums, the practice of law going forward is likely to be starkly different than in the pre-2008 era.” The authors are so confident of these differences that they urge law firms to “burn the ships,” to force themselves to adopt new, more profitable ways of doing business. (p. 1)
Does “burning the ships” mean laying off lawyers and staff, as Patton Boggs did? Indeed it does. The Georgetown report warns that, despite “several rounds of lay-offs” since 2008, many firms still suffer from “overcapacity in terms of the number of lawyers available to perform the work at hand.” Indeed, “the overcapacity problem has become even more serious” over the last four years. (p. 16) The solution, for firms that want to maintain high levels of profitability, is to continue cutting both associates and partners.
In addition to trimming lawyers, law firms are learning to hire new lawyers in lower-paid and more contingent positions. As the Georgetown report recognizes: “Firms have . . . begun to move toward more flexible staffing models, expanding their use of non-partner track associates, staff attorneys, and contract lawyers. Going forward, it is likely that firms will remain conservative in their hiring policies, even as demand begins to grow. As a result, firms probably will be relatively smaller in terms of the number of partners and traditional partner-track associates and relatively larger in terms of the number of other lawyers and non-lawyer professionals.” (p. 16)
Firms have been able to pursue this course because the legal market is flooded with law school graduates eager to work on almost any terms. The Georgetown report is quite candid on this point: “While excess capacity in the [legal] market is certainly not good news for young lawyers or, for that matter, law schools, it provides an environment in which law firms should have the flexibility to redesign their staffing models to respond to client demands. By embracing alternative approaches to staffing–including increased use of staff attorneys and non-partner track associates, contract lawyers, and part-time attorneys–firms can create more efficient and cost effective ways to deliver legal services.” (p. 17)
The Patton Boggs layoffs, in other words, are likely to be the first of many further contractions in BigLaw. Other firms may not lay off lawyers; they may reduce further the number of associates they hire, or quietly shift toward hiring staff attorneys and contract lawyers rather than partner-track associates. One way or another, however, firms will remedy the “overcapacity” identified in the Georgetown report.
For those who have been waiting for the golden days of BigLaw to return, the wait is over. There will still be golden times for some lawyers in BigLaw, but the opportunities are narrowing. Four years after the recession hit the legal market, structural changes continue to reduce BigLaw prospects for lawyers of all ages.
What does the sequester mean for law school graduates? Those who work for the federal government may have already received notice of upcoming furloughs. The Department of Justice, for example, has notified Assistant U.S. Attorneys that they will be furloughed for up to fourteen days. That doesn’t sound like much, but there are only 260 weekdays in a year. Fourteen days of furlough add up to a 5.4% pay cut.
Add to that the special nature of professional work. Furloughed prosecutors cannot offer to work free on their furlough days, and they must stay away from the workplace on those days. But their cases won’t go away. US Attorney’s offices, like all other offices affected by the sequester, will face an unpalatable choice: Do the attorneys maintain their current workload, working harder on the days they’re at work–for less pay? Or do they cut back on prosecutions?
The same cuts will affect our graduates who work as FBI agents, policy analysts, IRS employees, and any other type of federal government worker. As the cuts affect state budgets, particularly in states that rely upon defense spending, JDs who work for state and local governments will suffer as well.
That’s just the first chapter. With current employees furloughed and the budget future so uncertain, government agencies are likely to cut back hiring–even more than they have done already. We also have to worry about indirect effects on lawyering jobs, as furloughs and other cutbacks ripple through the economy. Fewer FBI agents, US attorneys, and government regulators means fewer investigations and prosecutions. That’s less work for the lawyers who defend the accused (from small-time drug dealers to big-time corporate fraudsters) or who advise companies on complying with government regulation.
We can hope that Congress will come to its senses quickly, once the effects of sequestration sink in. But even then, there will be sobering news for our graduates. The sequester reflects a period of profound political and cultural malaise over government spending. Opposition to that spending occurs on top of the economic forces that already threaten information-heavy professional jobs like lawyering.
Don’t get me wrong: The harshest effects of anti-government attitudes fall upon the poor. We should care passionately about how our economy and government are leaving so many people behind. But, since this blog focuses on legal education, we also need to ask what all of this means for our graduates–and for what we do as law schools. At one time, government jobs were a first choice for some law graduates and a satisfying fallback for others. Those jobs are more in doubt now than they have been for more than fifty years. How does that affect our work as law schools?
UTX was my moment of epiphany, the “oh my” moment when cogent thought on the legal profession came in a flash. Admittedly, prior to learning of UTX (not that long ago), I didn’t really know much about the economics of the legal profession other than the obvious fact that the financial crisis of 2008-2009 must have inflicted significant pain on the industry, thus my prior assumption of only a cyclical downturn. I write this blog post for the benefit of those colleagues in the academy who may have a sense that the legal profession is having difficulties but can’t quite see the larger picture beyond anecdotes of layoffs and a very difficult hiring market. I hope to provide a concrete example of the economic stress on the legal profession, which obviously has trickle down effects on the economics of law schools and the value of the law degree. (more…)
Rutgers University has announced a plan to merge its two law schools (Rutgers and Camden). Details remain to be worked out, but the university hopes that next year’s applicants (those applying to enroll in fall 2014) will apply to a unified school, with a choice of campuses.
The announcement raises interesting questions about how law schools can work together to meet current challenges. Few schools may be in a position to merge; those arrangements are particularly difficult when the schools reside in different universities. But are there other ways for schools to collaborate to reduce costs, improve job prospects for graduates, develop new clinical programs, or achieve other goals? Some schools are already starting to share courses by internet; what other collaborations are possible?
I welcome here comments on law school collaborations of all kinds–up to and including mergers.
We make a lot of assumptions in legal education. One is that our courses teach students the skills and doctrine we hope to impart. But do they? Do our first-year doctrinal courses teach students to read cases and statutes critically? Do our writing courses teach them to communicate effectively in memos and to argue persuasively in briefs? Does an evidence course equip students to identify evidentiary problems, analyze them properly, and offer competing arguments when the resolution is unclear?
There is a way to answer these questions, through assessment of student outcomes. As Andrea Funk and Kelley Mauerman explain in this useful article, this type of assessment focuses on a whole cohort of students, not on a single student. To assess the success of a curriculum (or individual course), we examine whether the group has achieved the skills or knowledge we attempted to teach.
Funk and Mauerman explain this type of assessment, then apply it to the legal writing curriculum at their school. They demonstrate that focusing on a capstone performance (in this case, a final exam administered at the end of a four-course sequence) can illustrate whether the curriculum serves its intended goals. If students don’t perform as well as we want, we can’t blame the students; we need to go back and improve the curriculum.
Funk and Mauerman focus on assessment conducted by a professor (or group of professors) teaching a particular course or sequence. This type of assessment seems like an excellent place to start. Their article, however, made me wonder about assessment conducted by a group of faculty from different parts of the curriculum or–even better–by a group of faculty and alumni. If a group of faculty read selected finals from a variety of first-year courses, selected papers from third-year seminars, or written work prepared in our clinics, would we be pleased or horrified? Would we identify problem areas that we could address?
It would be particularly instructive to look at student papers together with some practicing alums. What would those alumni see in the work product? Could they identify the skills or analytic abilities that matter to them in practice? How well do they think the students are performing on those key abilities?
Assessment is a simple, but powerful, tool. The biggest hurdle may be the first one: motivating ourselves to take a hard, critical look at the success of our classroom efforts. For those willing to take that step, Funk and Mauerman offer a valuable guide to the assessment process.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) reports that only 1.4% of lawyers were unemployed in 2012. That’s an impressive figure, especially when compared to an overall unemployment rate of 7.8%. Some law schools point to our profession’s low unemployment rate as a positive reason to embrace law school. Is that a valid way to use the BLS statistic?
No, the statistic is quite misleading when recited without further context. Here is the information schools need to know–and should convey–if they want to use this statistic. First, the statistic includes only people who held a lawyering job before becoming unemployed. That’s why the BLS titles this data series a measure of “experienced unemployed persons.” The statistic does not include people who have passed the bar and are eager to work as lawyers, but who have not yet held a lawyering job. They may be unemployed, but they’re not unemployed lawyers.
Second, the statistic does not include anyone who worked for a single hour during the survey week. The occupational unemployment rates derive from the Current Population Survey (CPS), which surveys 60,000 households each month. The CPS uses a very liberal definition of “employed.” Anyone who receives pay or profit from at least an hour of work during the week is “employed.” A lawyer who was paid for a single hour of document review during the survey week may be strapped for cash and woefully under-employed, but that person is still an “employed lawyer.”
Third, the statistic does not include lawyers who have been unable to find satisfactory legal work and have taken jobs in other fields. An hour of paid work in any job counts as employment for the CPS. A laid-off law firm associate who takes a retail sales job to pay the bills is an “employed retail salesperson” not an “unemployed lawyer.” Ditto for the laid-off lawyers who have taken jobs as high school teachers, realtors, paralegals, or other workers. Even if these employees want to be lawyers, have the training to be lawyers, and would eagerly leave their jobs for a lawyering position, they don’t count as “unemployed lawyers.”
This point is particularly important because job seekers can work down, but not up, the training scale. A worker with just a high school diploma can’t practice law, but a lawyer can do many of the jobs that the high school graduate performs. Similarly, the lawyer can take many of the positions open to other college grads. This is an important part of the reason why people with advanced degrees have low unemployment rates; they usually can return to occupations that were open to them before obtaining the degree. The advanced degree may have little relevance to their employment, but they are not unemployed.
Finally, the BLS count of “unemployed lawyers” includes only individuals who have actively looked for work during the preceding four weeks. Checking newspaper ads or attending training classes doesn’t count as an active job search. This caveat is important because of the number of unemployed lawyers who become discouraged and leave the workforce entirely.
Women are a barometer of this phenomenon; if paid work is difficult to find, they may choose to care for children or other family members instead of pursuing their profession. Unfortunately for the diversity of our profession, BLS statistics show just this trend among female lawyers. In 2000, women constituted 29.8% of all employed lawyers. By 2003, despite more women graduating from law school (and disproportionately male senior lawyers departing the workforce), only 27.6% of employed lawyers were women. The 2001-03 recession pushed more female lawyers than male ones out of the workplace.
Similarly, both the percentage and absolute number of women lawyers has declined recently. After hitting an all-time high of 34.4% of the profession in 2008, the percentage of female lawyers declined to 31.1% in 2012. More than 100,000 women graduated from law school during the last five years, but there are 19,000 fewer women lawyers today than there were in 2008. I don’t know if those women have moved into other fields or out of the workforce, but they don’t show up as unemployed lawyers in the BLS statistic.
In sum, it is technically true that the unemployment rate for lawyers, according to the BLS, is just 1.4%. But that statistic is likely to give prospective law students and others a distorted view of the legal job market. The bare statistic suggests that 98.6% of people who want to practice law, and who have law licenses, are employed as lawyers. That’s clearly not the case. In fact, the same BLS data series suggests that the number of practicing lawyers declined between 2011 and 2012: There were about 1,085,000 respondents working as lawyers in 2011, but just 1,061,000 in 2012.
There are responsible ways to discuss both positive and negative aspects of the legal job market with prospective students. A responsible approach, however, gives context to statistics; it also includes both positive and negative figures that appear in the same data series.
Note: The BLS does not publish the occupational unemployment statistics on its website; that’s one indicator that the Bureau sees limited utility in these figures. But for those who want to see the data for the last ten years, I have PDF copies of the tables.
Whatever else we teach in law school, most professors and lawyers agree that we need to teach students how to analyze cases and statutes. Lawyers must be able to read those key products of our legal system; analyze their meaning; synthesize their rules; apply the rules to new situations; and recognize ambiguities or open questions.
Why do students have so much trouble with these tasks, even in the third year of law school? These are difficult tasks, but they’re hardly insurmountable. Talented graduate students should be able to grasp them in less than three years. The answer, I think, is that we don’t teach these skills nearly as well as we assume. If we really wanted to teach students to analyze cases and statutes, we would adopt different methods. Here are some of my thoughts on that:
1. Modern courses in Legal Writing explicitly teach students how to analyze and synthesize legal materials, but doctrinal courses rarely do. The typical doctrinal course expects students to learn these skills simply by trying until they get it right. Without explicit instruction or individual feedback, students who get the wrong answers in class (or are mystified by their classmate’s correct answers) don’t know where they are going wrong.
2. The right answers in a doctrinal class usually require knowledge of the doctrine–not knowledge of how to deduce that doctrine from a case or statute. Students who are struggling for answers, therefore, usually turn to doctrinal study guides; they rarely seek additional help in analyzing and synthesizing legal materials.
3. Students learn what we test. Although we may say that our doctrinal courses teach students how to analyze legal materials, we rarely test those skills directly. How many doctrinal courses give students a new case or statute to analyze during the final? The Multistate Performance Test does that on the bar exam, but we rarely do it in law school. Our doctrinal courses test students on doctrine and issue spotting (within a defined doctrinal area), not on analyzing or synthesizing legal materials.
4. Thirty-five years ago, students might have had to analyze and synthesize in order to learn the doctrine and issue-spotting tested on exams. When I attended law school (1977-80), Gilbert’s outlines were sold discretely out of a single student’s locker. They weren’t very good, and there were no other study guides on the market. Today, each subject boasts a half dozen or more study guides–many of them quite good. Websites like Outline Depot allow students to exchange outlines keyed to an individual professor’s class. I’ve looked at the outlines for my Evidence class and, again, they’re pretty good. If we test students on issue spotting and doctrine, then it makes sense to study the doctrine and issues that the professor stresses in class. It’s not necessary to analyze and synthesize cases or statutes.
5. Today, when the doctrine is readily available, we tell students that they should read all of the cases and statutes for their doctrinal courses because that’s a good way to refine their lawyering skills. But that’s such an unrealistic path that students quickly tire of it. Many casebooks include just fragments of cases or statutes, so the students learn little about analysis. If cases are drawn from multiple jurisdictions, students don’t learn real synthesis; they learn to synthesize a blended rule from cases handpicked by the casebook author.
Most important, no practicing lawyer would proceed as we suggest. Close analysis of cases and statutes take significant time; a practicing lawyer would save that time for when it is necessary. For established doctrine, the lawyer would rely upon treatises, other authoritative summaries, or her own accumulated knowledge. The lawyer would read only the newest cases and statutes (those that have not yet been fully analyzed) or the ones with potential ambiguities related to her case.
Students quickly grasp that the law school way of learning doctrine, by reading a case for almost every point, is unrealistic. It’s also tedious and unnecessary, so they don’t do it. In my experience, upper-level students read assigned cases or statutes very lightly–if at all. They know that the bottom line holding will be most important for class discussion and the exam; they also know that a quick read, class notes, or a study guide will provide that information most of the time. If the case is a more complicated one that requires close reading, they’ll learn that in class when the professor embarrasses someone through socratic questioning–and the professor will eventually reveal the nuances.
In other words, I think we discourage students from flexing their analytic skills by demanding that performance when it’s not necessary. If we saved case and statutory analysis for the materials that demand close scrutiny, students would be more likely to engage in that process and learn from it.
The number of cases and statutes requiring close scrutiny varies by subject matter. Constitutional law requires close reading of more cases than Evidence does. (I’ve taught both courses, so speak from experience there.) Some code courses require almost daily analysis of code sections, but very little case analysis. We should be careful, though, in assuming that all of our subjects require daily case or statutory analysis; many of them don’t. If we want to hone analytic skills in our doctrinal classes, we could do so more realistically by requiring those skills only for the material that demands it.
6. If we are serious about honing case and statutory analysis in doctrinal courses, we should be willing to give more individual feedback–or to create online modules to do that. Listening to the professor question another student is not a very effective way to learn close analysis. Instead, we could require every student to complete online exercises related to key cases or statutes. Using fairly rudimentary software, we could ask every student to (a) highlight case language that expresses a court’s holding; (b) highlight language that expresses ambiguities or openings for future distinctions; (c) answer questions about how hypothetical problems might be resolved under a case or statute; and (d) point to the specific language supporting conclusions about those hypotheticals. In each case, the software could tell the student what she had gotten right or wrong.
In class, we could discuss more advanced points about these cases or statutes, knowing that each student had read the underlying source closely enough to answer the required questions. We could also discuss points that many students missed, since the software could aggregate those responses. And we could examine the novel insights that some students might have generated. E.g., perhaps one student saw ambiguous language that the professor missed in creating the exercise.
In sum, I think we have a long way to go if we aim to teach case/statute analysis and synthesis in our doctrinal courses. Currently, we teach primarily doctrine in those courses–and there are more efficient ways to teach doctrine than through the case method. If we really focused on teaching analysis/synthesis in some courses, we could teach those skills more efficiently as well.
The law school admissions process is odd. Among the major professional schools, law school has the lowest barrier to entry in terms of personal commitment to the profession. A student does not choose medical school as a “default” option. A student cannot get into a credible business school unless she has significant work experience. Law schools require only a GPA and an LSAT score. Many law schools may not even ask the most important question, “Why do you want to be a lawyer?” The typical law student is probably 22-23 years old. She may never have worked a regular job, worked on a project where others depended on her, filed a tax return, or bought a car or house. This profile has important implications for curriculum.
Let me digress a bit here. Two weeks ago, I was in California for a symposium on legal education, and this gave me a chance to see some old friends from business school. One of my friends has a spouse who is in her spring 3L at a Top Ten law school (she does not have a job yet and the worst case plan is to work a year for free on the hopes of a job opening in her desired career). He is very involved in her world of law school, and sometimes even attends her classes and socializes with her law school friends. So we naturally got around to talking about law schools and one avenue of conversation was whether law students were smarter than our Wharton classmates. (more…)
» Read the full text for About Students and the Opportunity Cost of Curriculum
We’re delighted to announce our first guest contributor, Robert Rhee, the Marbury Research Professor of Law and Co-Director of the Business Law Program at the University of Maryland’s Francis King Carey School of Law. Robert has published an innovative text on Essential Concepts of Business for Lawyers, and comments frequently on legal education. Earlier this year, we wrote about Robert’s proposal to incorporate more Business Education in Law School. Today, he offers more suggestions for the law school curriculum.
Education is an investment. Until recently, Americans considered that investment close to fool-proof; almost every degree from a reputable institution seemed to pay off in the job market. With rising tuition and a turbulent economy, however, an increasing number of students understand that education today is like other investments: it has downside risk.
Legal educators often note that law isn’t the only field experiencing high tuition and uncertain job prospects; other graduate programs show the same trends. That’s true, but the question isn’t whether other programs are risky. The question is whether prospective students now perceive law school as more risky than other programs. It’s like the old story about the two campers and the bear. Other graduate programs don’t have to out-run the bear; they just need to out-run us.
The Risks
Here are some of the features that make legal education risky for today’s students. First, we maintain a three-year program. Students can obtain a wide range of master’s degrees in just two years–sometimes less with summer study. Master’s degrees in public affairs, public administration, public health, economics, social work, accounting, international relations, education, computer science, environmental science, and business are just some of the programs that might appeal to students interested in law.
Second, most of our programs are full-time. Part-time programs are much easier to find in many master’s fields, as well as in some doctoral programs. Full-time law students have limited options to earn money while pursuing their degrees; this increases the degree’s cost. Full-time enrollment may also discourage established workers from entering law school. In today’s volatile market, employees may be reluctant to cut ties as thoroughly as law school demands. Three years is a long gap in any employment history.
Third, our tuition is high. Law school costs substantially more than most master’s degrees, even without accounting for the third year. We also cost more than most PhD programs, especially since many doctoral students receive fellowship support or teach while earning their degrees. Medicine and dentistry cost more than law school, but they have much more secure job outcomes.
Fourth, our job outcomes are uncertain. For a worrisome number of graduates, there are no jobs practicing law. This reality emerges, not only from the 9-month employment statistics compiled by NALP, but also from Bureau of Labor Statistics projections. The Bureau estimates that, even if the economy returns to full strength, it will provide legal jobs for just half the number of students that law schools have been graduating.
It is true that some law graduates find satisfying work in fields other than law practice, but graduates of other programs fill those same jobs. Unless one wants to practice law, why pursue a degree that is more expensive and time-intensive than almost any other?
The job uncertainty, furthermore, extends to the type of law that a particular graduate may be able to practice. JDs practice many types of law, but that doesn’t mean that every JD can choose among all those paths. A top student at a top school probably can choose almost any route in law. The options, however, diminish steadily as one goes down the law school and class rank ladder. At least 80% of law students, for example, have no option to practice for an NLJ 250 firm; that’s simply not a choice for these students. The minority who can exercise that option aren’t necessarily the top graduates from the highest ranked schools–although they dominate this group. Some other students have this option because of special talents or background. My point here is that, for the large majority of students, this career path turns out not to be an option.
The same is true of many other legal positions. As the job market has contracted, and as high loans have made public service loan forgiveness very attractive, students can no longer count on careers as prosecutors, public defenders, or other government and public interest lawyers. I have seen excellent students compete desperately for these positions without success.
It’s one thing to choose law school knowing that you’ll accept a modest salary, and repay substantial loans, while doing work you love as a prosecutor. It’s another thing to choose law school knowing that you’ll have high debt combined with an uncertain menu of job choices. What if you invest all that time and money only to discover that your only options are small-firm family law practice or document review? Some graduates might enjoy those types of work but, if you went to law school wanting to be a prosecutor or other trial attorney, the pay off is disappointing compared to the investment.
These risks are particularly severe when put in the context of the overall job market. I recently discussed the changes that technology is unleashing on our economy. Given the accelerating impact of technology, it is hard to predict the parameters or income of any profession ten years from now. Certainly the economy will still support lawyers, but how many will it support? What will most of them do? And what will most of them be paid?
Against that backdrop, a rational college graduate might invest in a shorter, cheaper graduate degree than law. We are accustomed to thinking of the JD as flexible, but that may not be true in today’s economy. High debt alone reduces a graduate’s options. Today’s prospective applicant might think, “I’ll get a master’s degree in X and work in that field for a while. Maybe later I’ll see if law still makes sense.”
It’s hard to think of the JD as a risky degree; in earlier times, it seemed like one of the safest options for a college graduate wanting a professional career. But, if we want to address the dramatic decline in law school applicants, we need to put ourselves in the minds of those applicants. How do the risks of attending law school line up against the risks of other degree programs?
Remedies
Reducing the JD’s riskiness will be difficult, and it will require challenging steps for law schools. The best ways to reduce risk for law students are some combination of smaller class sizes, lower tuition, more part-time options, a shorter degree program, up-front commitments from employers (similar to medical residencies), or “stepped” programs that allow students to obtain a series of degrees enabling them to perform different types of legal work.
I don’t underestimate the difficulty, from a law school’s perspective, of making these changes. It seems, though, that recognizing the riskiness of a JD–compared to other graduate programs and workplace options–is an important step towards reshaping legal education in a way that will continue to attract talented future lawyers. We need to outrun those other campers.
Cafe Manager & Co-Moderator
Deborah J. Merritt
Cafe Designer & Co-Moderator
Kyle McEntee
Law School Cafe is a resource for anyone interested in changes in legal education and the legal profession.
Have something you think our audience would like to hear about? Interested in writing one or more guest posts? Send an email to the cafe manager at merritt52@gmail.com. We are interested in publishing posts from practitioners, students, faculty, and industry professionals.