Letter to My Future Peers

-- By MarcusStrong - 16 Feb 2012

Personal Introduction

In many ways, my path to law school and any success at this point in life is traditional and formulaic. I went from public school and magnet programs to private school and an Ivy-league school, where I was in all the requisite extracurriculars and had all the grades to make it to a top law school. In one sense, I conformed to surrounding expectations to get where I wanted to go. But in between going to class and getting all my work in on time, I read about the world, learned new skills, and dedicated myself to causes larger than school or social status. I also learned to take care of myself in ways that I hadn’t learned by observing my peers. Most people I knew in college did the same, starting out one way but ending up a very different person in four years, not merely because of their surroundings but because of their own initiative in molding themselves. That’s an obvious observation when you look at people entering law school, but after my first year, I’m not sure if I can say the same of my fellow students or myself now that we’re here to (at least temporarily) stay. Most students enter law school with at least 22 years of life experience under their belt, coming from disparate countries, regions, colleges, professions, and income levels. Yet when they enter law school, the system of rapid outlining before exams, eating pizza lunch at hosted talks, signing up for bar exam prep in 1L year, getting little sleep, drinking too much coffee, and grades quickly becomes the norm. And between information sessions on private sector or public interest work, our schedules outside of class are basically organized for us. But that socialization also occurs without the aid of faculty or administration. Students mythologize grades and “gunners” they first observe in The Paper Chase and One-L or from the stories their relatives tell. That socialization could be called a culture, but unlike a living and breathing culture, it does not change much year after year. But recognizing those differences I mentioned earlier, I have to wonder why the same process continues to occur.

Why the Conformity?

Duncan Kennedy points to the nature of the bar and firms as the reason for conformism in law school. For them, it’s natural and fair for law school and the legal profession to be organized the way it is. Law school as it exists now continues to produce hard-working, compliant employees so it must be successful. Students have respect for that product, because it gives them skills, but status and security, whether honorary or monetary. But do they also possess fear of what will happen if they don’t become that product? And if so, of what? I, for one, have a fear of the unknown. Lawyers invited to the law school talk about their experience at corporate firms or as in-house counsel, but fail to mention what to do if you can’t get a large firm job or try to make it on your own. Contrary to post-statistics on admissions brochures, everyone doesn’t get a job when they leave school, even at the top schools like Columbia. Without any discernible alternatives from their mentors, all students can see is darkness. As Kennedy points out, “it would be an extraordinary first-year student who could, on his own, develop a theoretically critical attitude towards this system.” Another reason that Kennedy gives for why students conform to the hierarchy is that law school teaches its students that they’re lazy. He’s right in some ways. The administration doesn’t tell us that in a bad way, as if we’re good for nothing, but tries to give us reasons to relax so students don’t have emotional or mental breakdowns. But by telling us to trust that our first-year professors always know what they’re doing, that the legal methods we learn will be helpful, the law school debilitates us from thinking critically about what and how we’re learning. One reason that students don’t challenge that hierarchy however is because the superstructure is difficult to change in three years. When you enter school, despite all the time and debt, you’re processed quickly, from first semester classes to journals and internships to graduation and a job. Given the speed and quantity of the work, there’s little incentive to criticize lecture style or ask career services to tailor their events to more diverse interests. There’s little incentive to change any part of law school when you’re encouraged to leave from day one. But this reason doesn’t make sense for the socialization among students themselves. Most law students being young adults, one would think that they would more carefully scrutinize their choices about health, friendship, and intellectual development. Actually, considering most students are in their twenties, that’s probably not true. That said, we made a conscious, independent choice to come to law school, and that independence doesn’t need to go away once you’re actually here. Maintaining friendships outside of social networking sites, experiencing culture, and committing time to others are valuable goals that don’t need to be paused for three years.

Self-Preservation or Torture?

By acclimating ourselves to a larger culture, we law students also induce the same qualities in students who come after us. We put our time in as servants until we can become the masters, which is another reason for our conformity. Knowing there’s a time limit to our self-induced torture, we last long enough until we can watch others suffer. Putting your time in or getting hours served could be seen as a form of self-preservation, but this type of masochism and Schadenfreude belies the fact that law school isn’t prison. However rigorous or difficult, it should still be a school.

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