A couple of weeks ago Betsy noted the Boston Globe article on Harvard Law's decision to begin incorporating problem-based instruction in the birthplace of the Langdellian case law method. Today Mauled Again has more. James Edward Maul notes:
Well, hurray that Harvard is catching up with what a few faculty at some other law schools have been doing. Presumably, once Harvard puts its imprimatur on what is now the object of more than a few frowns and not-so-quiet criticism, the problem approach will become all the rage in legal education. I've been advocating the problem method since I started teaching, but my name isn't Harvard....James Edward Maule identifies six factors:
So what do I think is the cause of the disconnect between legal education and legal practice?
- "The first explanation is what I call perpetuation.... Law faculty look for people like themselves (which is why faculty hiring can be a contentious process at law schools where the faculty is not overwhelmingly of like mind)."
- "The second explanation is what I call faculty experience limitation. Some law faculty have little or no law practice experience. A few have never represented a client. Many have had a law practice experience limited to clerking for an appellate judge. This is what they know, namely, appellate cases and appellate practice. Never mind that the overwhelming majority of lawyers never argue an appellate case. "
- "The third explanation is what I call faculty competence limitation. Almost all law faculty have limited competences. By that I mean most law faculty "specialize" in a narrow area of the law.... In a world of doctrinal education, this is a wonderful arrangement. Ideally, it permits the faculty member to do his or her "scholarly writing" in the same area.... The problem method focuses on the reality of what clients bring to their lawyers, namely transactions and events that have occurred or that need to be planned. The expertise required to assist a client in setting up a business ranges from tax law to securities regulation, across environmental and property law, and into employment and discrimination law. The expertise required to handle a divorce includes not only domestic relations law, but tax, business organizations, criminal law, negotiation skills, and familiarity with the law of wills and trusts, to name some. Few faculty have such expertise."
- "The fourth explanation is what I call the invasion of the philosophers. In recent years there has been a rush on the part of many law schools to bring a "multi-disciplinary" focus to legal education.... To teach these courses, law schools are hiring "interdisciplinary scholars" who almost always have a Ph.D. in some discipline along with a J.D., though often with little or no client contact experience. The classroom context in these courses is much closer to that of a graduate philosophy department than to law practice. It's not that these courses are inadequate or inappropriate. They're not. It's that they displace other courses in the students' schedules.... Good lawyers need to understand economics, history, literature, culture, and similar disciplines in order to understand the context in which law operates. Squeezing this remedial education into an already crowded three-year program is foolish. The addition of a fourth year, with half of it devoted to clinical experiences for all law students, would go a long way in delivering a better law graduate to the practice world."
- "The fifth explanation is what I call the curse of the J.D. degree. The J.D. degree is the only doctorate that is awarded to students who lack both a bachelors and a masters degree in the discipline. The fact that a J.D. degree is a prerequisite to the LL.M. degree, and that the LL.M. is followed by the S.J.D. degree is proof enough of the distortion. The distortion arises from a surrender to the demands of law students in the late 60s that their degree be a doctoral degree because 'our college classmates are getting doctorates and we're only getting this lousy LL.B. degree.'"...
- "The sixth explanation is what I call the downside of passive learning. During the past few decades, more and more law school courses have come to resemble the "feed and regurgitate" courses prevalent in many undergraduate programs. Whether so designed, or a consequence of faculty acceptance of student pressure for lectures in order to obtain favorable evaluations, the concept of passive learning is wholly inconsistent with the active style of law practice.... Using the problem method triggers active learning because it puts the student into a real, rather than theoretical situation, where the constraints of practice must come to bear on the analysis. Students quickly learn that there are more questions than answers, and that the demand for "telling us what the law is" can accordingly be muted."
Introducing the problem method into law school education isn't the issue. It has been introduced. The challenge is making it ubiquitous. Encountering the problem method in one or two courses does not change the way law students think, because they see those course as aberrations or, for some, as models of what they'd like to see in the rest of their course load. Only by making the problem method an every-day experience throughout all three years of law study can law schools attain the goal that one person quoted in the report said, "If we get them to think of themselves as problem-solvers, that brings them closer to the realities of law practice."... But even a pervasive adoption of the problem method is insufficient. Faculty who use the problem method well will discover that it requires them to bring other areas of law into their discussion. I find it useless to teach the law of wills and trusts without considering the impact of divorce, or the general effect of taxation. Ultimately, the problem method will cause too much overlap between courses with an unavoidable decrease in depth and scope of coverage. That result would be no less counter-productive to the goal of preparing law students to be lawyers. What needs to happen is another of my favorite proposals, namely, the realignment of law school curriculum along transactional rather than doctrinal lines....Meanwhile, over at PrawfsBlawg, Rick Garnett notes:
All in all, bringing the problem method into its course array is, to paraphrase my email to my colleagues a few days ago, "a brilliant strategic move because it doesn't let anyone else take over as lead dog." Although other schools have been increasing the use of the problem method, Harvard is positioned to take credit for making it the wave of the future. That's the advantage of being Harvard. It's also the responsibility of being Harvard, and it's nice to see that school, after several decades of turmoil and false starts into other changes, live up to that responsibility.
The cynic in me must note that what ultimately will drive curricular change is the U.S. News and World Reports ranking. If the editors see fit to make use of the problem method and even transactional-focused curriculum positive factors in its convoluted equation, the bandwagon will fill rapidly. Can that happen? Yes. U.S. News surveys judges and practitioners, many of whom, because of their post-law-school client experiences, are supporters of the problem method and transactional-focused curriculum. How do I know? I communicate with law graduates almost every day. That's what I have heard and continue to hear. Harvard, it seems, is listening, too. Are the others?
Most of us have probably heard, from a student or colleague, or said, that a particular course or subject in law school is not "real" law. Usually, this seems to mean (something like) the course is thought or asserted to be not "relevant" to "real world" law practice, or just "theory", or downright flakey. A few times in recent weeks, while talking informally with students in social settings, I've heard this complaint about current course offerings -- "no real law." (The offending courses include those that are perceived as perhaps owing too much to Notre Dame's idiosyncratic Catholic character -- "Catholic Social Thought and the Law", "Mercy and Justice", "Aquinas" -- but also courses like "International Art Law" or "Sports and Inequality.")
I'm still not sure how to respond to these complaints. (After all, the offending courses are the ones that, in my view, are the ones most worth taking!) I want to take seriously the concern they reflect, and not be too quick with a too-glib response. Any suggestions?