scholarly journals Blackface, Bullying and Freedom of Expression: What Legal Education Means for Law Student Welfare

2020 ◽  
Vol 5 (3) ◽  
pp. 63
Author(s):  
Samuel V. Jones

Today, law student safety is a serious but often missed objective in American law schools. According to a recent survey, the typical American family wants to know their law student is safe even more than they want their law student to acquire a first-rate legal academic experience. Despite the importance of law student mental health to student performance, and cultural objectives unique to legal education, law students are not only highly vulnerable to acquiring mental health challenges during law school but are prone to be overlooked, and perhaps blamed or condemned for their mental health challenges, albeit unintentionally. My work asserts that despite the chief objective of law schools being to educate knowledgeable, competent, legal professionals, and provide them with the necessary skills to resolve complex legal essentials for corporations and government, as well as advance social justice, and to promote equal treatment for all, inherent in the nature of legal education, is a seemingly widely accepted risk of compromising law student mental health. Relying on qualitative studies and journalistic reports, my work will demonstrate that law students experience high incidents of personal depression, anxiety, extreme sadness, loss of interest or desire, feelings of guilt or low self-esteem, disturbed sleep or appetite, low energy, poor concentration, and a myriad of other mental and physical calamities, all of which greatly exceeds that of the law faculty, and surpasses levels experienced by medical and graduate students at American schools of higher education. My work further acknowledges that law student anxiety and depression are inextricably linked to the rigorous academic demands of legal education. Still it argues and set forth that law student mental health is related to avoidable conditions and patterns in the law school environment that enable or fail to account for the law student’s inexperience with coping with intense stress, emotional uncertainty, geographical isolation from loved ones, strained financial resources, poor job prospects, family strife, drug or alcohol abuse, homelessness, or lack of a culturally responsive learning environment. Granted, the legal profession is not for everyone. My work argues that law schools cannot turn a blind eye to the plight of law students as if no degree of accountability and responsibility lies with the law school. Indeed, law schools, albeit unintentionally, may be some of the chief investors in patterns of conduct that compromise the physical, emotional, and mental safety of law students. Recognition of a law school’s duty to students, in my view, requires law schools to resist the rhetoric of self-exceptionalism. Law schools, have an obligation, reluctantly or not, to concretely curtail repeated patterns of professional abuse, neglect, dereliction of academic duties, social domination, and student exploitation, that are uniquely embedded in the culture of legal education. Simply put, law student safety needs, coupled with the intricacies and unforgiving consequences of today’s competitive legal job market and high cost of legal education, warrant that law schools resist the impulses that prioritize institutional-preservation and subordinate student mental health under the guise of teaching students the harsh realities of the legal profession and preparing them for legal practice. My work argues that student physical, emotional, mental and academic safety should, and must become a critical component of legal education.

2013 ◽  
Vol 12 (4) ◽  
pp. 535-578
Author(s):  
Bruce A. Kimball

Between 1915 and 1925, Harvard University conducted the first national public fund-raising campaign in higher education in the United States. At the same time, Harvard Law School attempted the first such effort in legal education. The law school organized its effort independently, in conjunction with its centennial in 1917. The university campaign succeeded magnificently by all accounts; the law school failed miserably. Though perfectly positioned for this new venture, Harvard Law School raised scarcely a quarter of its goal from merely 2 percent of its alumni. This essay presents the first account of this campaign and argues that its failure was rooted in longstanding cultural and professional objections that many of the school's alumni shared: law students and law schools neither need nor deserve benefactions, and such gifts worsen the overcrowding of the bar. Due to these objections, lethargy, apathy, and pessimism suffused the campaign. These factors weakened the leadership of the alumni association, the dean, and the president, leading to inept management, wasted time, and an unlikely strategy that was pursued ineffectively. All this doomed the campaign, particularly given the tragic interruptions of the dean's suicide and World War I, along with competition from the well-run campaigns for the University and for disaster relief due to the war.


2018 ◽  
Vol 1 (2) ◽  
pp. 135 ◽  
Author(s):  
Fajri Matahati Muhammadin ◽  
Hanindito Danusatya

The Indonesian legal system is not secular, but the legal education in non-Islamic universities are secular. This article will highlight the �Introduction to Jurisprudence� course (ITJ) at law undergraduate programs. More specifically, one chapter will be analyzed i.e. �Classification of Norms� because it is an early fundamental chapter in ITJ which shapes the jurisprudential reasoning of the law students. This article uses a literature study to observe the most used textbooks for the (ITJ) course in the top law schools in Indonesia. It will be found that the approached used by these textbooks are secular and incompatible with the Indonesian non-secular legal system. Islamization of knowledge is needed to �de-secularize� this �Classification of Norms� chapter.


Author(s):  
Willem Hendrik Gravett

It is a sad fact that at most university law schools in South Africa, a student can graduate without ever having set foot in a courtroom, and without ever having spoken to, or on behalf of, a person in need of advice or counsel. The past several years have witnessed a swelling chorus of complaints that the current LLB curriculum produces law graduates who were "out of their depth" in practice. My purpose is to make a case for the inclusion in the LLB curriculum of a course in trial advocacy. This endeavour of necessity invokes the broader debate over the educational objectives of a university law school – a debate memorably framed by William Twining as the two polar images of "Pericles and the plumber". My thesis is that the education of practising lawyers should be the primary mission of the university law school. The first part of this contribution is a response to those legal academics who hold that the role of the law school is to educate law students in the theories and substance of the law; that it is not to function as a trade school or a nursery school for legal practice. With reference to the development of legal education in the United States, I argue that the "education/training" dichotomy has been exposed as a red herring. This so-called antithesis is false, because it assumes that a vocational approach is necessarily incompatible with such values as free inquiry, intellectual rigour, independence of thought, and breadth of perspective. The modern American law school has shown that such so-called incompatibility is the product of intellectual snobbery and devoid of any substance. It is also often said that the raison d'être of a university legal education is to develop in the law student the ability "to think like a lawyer". However, what legal academics usually mean by "thinking like a lawyer" is the development of a limited subset of the skills that are of crucial importance in practising law: one fundamental cognitive skill – analysis – and one fundamental applied skill – legal research. We are not preparing our students for other, equally crucial lawyering tasks – negotiating, client counselling, witness interviewing and trial advocacy. Thinking like a lawyer is a much richer and more intricate process than merely collecting and manipulating doctrine. We cannot say that we are fulfilling our goal to teach students to "think like lawyers", because the complete lawyer "thinks" about doctrine and about trial strategy and about negotiation and about counselling. We cannot teach students to "think like lawyers" without simultaneously teaching them what lawyers do. An LLB curriculum that only produces graduates who can "think like lawyers" in the narrow sense ill-serves them, the profession and the public. If the profession is to improve the quality of the services it provides to the public, it is necessary for the law schools to recognise that their students must receive the skills needed to put into practice the knowledge and analytical abilities they learn in the substantive courses. We have an obligation to balance the LLB curriculum with courses in professional competence, including trial advocacy – courses that expose our students to what actually occurs in lawyer-client relationships and in courtrooms. The skills our law students would acquire in these courses are essential to graduating minimally-competent lawyers whom we can hand over to practice to complete their training. The university law school must help students form the habits and skills that will carry over to a lifetime of practice. Nothing could be more absurd than to neglect in education those practical matters that are necessary for a person's future calling.


2019 ◽  
pp. 591-616
Author(s):  
Lawrence M. Friedman

This chapter discusses changes in the legal profession in the second half of the nineteenth century, covering the rise of the law school, the literature of the law, and legal periodicals and casebooks. No state in the nineteenth century made a law degree, or a college degree, a prerequisite for admission to the bar. Many lawyers, however, even in the 1850s, did go to college, and more and more students who could afford it chose law school as well. Indeed, by 1900 it was quite clear that the law schools would come to dominate legal education. After the Civil War, an increasing number of law schools formed some sort of tie with a college or university. More than three-quarters of the schools open and running in the 1890s were of this type.


1978 ◽  
Vol 3 (03) ◽  
pp. 515-543 ◽  
Author(s):  
Donna Fossum

In the past 50 years, eligibility for admission to the bar has come to depend increasingly on the accreditation status of the law school attended. The author traces the history of the American Bar Association's law school accrediting standards and their impact on part-time and proprietary law schools, presents the results of a study of the ABA standard prohibiting the accreditation of proprietary law schools, and discusses ramifications for legal education and the legal profession.


2020 ◽  
Vol 27 (3) ◽  
pp. 5-32
Author(s):  
Mary Anne Noone

It’s a great privilege to deliver this year’s Susan Campbell Oration. I, like many others, had the pleasure of working with Sue on a range of activities. In 2007, Sue conducted a review of the La Trobe Law School Clinical program which was instrumental in helping ensure the program remained an integral aspect of the La Trobe University law course. I hope what I have to say honours Sue’s memory and her contributions to legal education and clinical legal education in particular2.  My focus in this presentation is on how Australian clinical legal education responds to the various innovations and disruptions occurring in the legal arena. The scope and breadth of innovations is mindboggling. There are many predictions about what the future holds for the legal profession, from gloom and doom to utopia, and there is a growing body of literature discussing the implications for the legal profession and legal education. In reality, it is impossible to envisage what the legal world will look like in ten years let alone thirty and that poses a real challenge for those involved in legal education, including clinical legal education. How best to prepare today’s students for the unknown future?  Given that I have no expertise in digital technology and am certainly not a futurologist my comments relate to those areas about which I have some background: access to justice, social security and clinical legal education.  I briefly outline the variety and scope of innovations occurring in the legal world, discuss two related aspects namely access to justice and government decision making, using the example of Robodebt, and then examine the potential for clinical legal education in these disruptive times. I argue that clinical legal education is well placed to take a more central role in Australian law schools and the training of 21st century legal workers. 


2019 ◽  
pp. 27-45
Author(s):  
Kate Galloway ◽  
Julian Webb ◽  
Francesca Bartlett ◽  
John Flood ◽  
Lisa Webley

This article argues that legal education is currently grappling with three narratives of technology’s role in either augmenting, disrupting or ending the current legal services environment. It identifies each of these narratives within features of curriculum design that respond to legal professional archetypes of how lawyers react to lawtech. In tracing how these influential narratives and associated archetypes feature in the law curriculum, the article maps the evolving intersection of lawtech, the legal profession and legal services delivery in legal education. It concludes by proffering the additional narrative of ‘adaptive professionalism’, which emphasises the complex and contextual nature of the legal profession, and therefore provides a more coherent direction for adaptation of the law curriculum. Through this more nuanced and grounded approach, it is suggested that law schools might equip law graduates to embrace technological developments while holding on to essential notions of ethical conduct, access to justice and the rule of law.


2014 ◽  
Vol 2 (2) ◽  
pp. 215-245
Author(s):  
Jay Sterling Silver

At the end of Brian Tamanaha’s instant classic, Failing Law Schools, tracing the economic forces behind exorbitant law school tuition and graduate debt and unemployment, he lays out his plan to help resolve the crisis. He would eliminate tenure, dispense with the final year of law school, rely heavily on adjuncts and apprenticeships, and loosen the ABA accreditation standards mandating “one-size-fitsall” law schools to allow the marketplace to fashion more affordable models of legal education. Some schools would remain in the traditional, three-year mode, with faculty conducting research. Others would morph into, or spring up spontaneously as, the “law school parallel . . . of vocational colleges.” Very candidly, Tamanaha explained that the “two-year law schools . . . would be dumping grounds for the middle class and the poor . . . . Few children of the rich will end up in these law schools.” He calls the plan “‘differentiated’ legal education.” Others, including Paul Campos, founder of the Inside the Law School Scam web blog and author of Don’t Go To Law School (Unless), and the ABA Task Force (“Task Force”) on the Future of Legal Education, have endorsed Tamanaha’s prescription.


Author(s):  
Trish Karen Mundy

This paper discusses the partial findings from a research study involving a narrative analysis of in-depth interviews with twelve final year law students. The research explored student attitudes to, and perceptions of, legal practice in rural, regional and remote (RRR) communities – that is, their ’imagined experience’. The research findings suggests that, at least in the context of the non-regional law school, the rural/regional is both absent and ‘other’, revealing the ‘urban-centric’ nature of legal education and its failure to adequately expose students to rural and regional practice contexts that can help to positively shape their ‘imagined’ experience. This paper argues that all law schools must take up the challenge of rural inclusiveness by integrating a sense of ‘place-consciousness’ into the law curriculum.


2018 ◽  
Vol 7 (2.29) ◽  
pp. 494
Author(s):  
Norfadhilah Mohamad Ali ◽  
Mohd Hazmi Mohd Rusli ◽  
Syahirah Abdul Shukor ◽  
Mohd Nasir Abdul Majid ◽  
Hendun Abd Rahman Shah ◽  
...  

Upon attaining independence in 1957, most judges and lawyers in Malaysia received legal education and legal training in the United Kingdom. University of Malaya was the only premier law school in Malaysia during that time. Gradually, the number of law schools increased and now legal education is available in a number of both private and public universities in Malaysia. The landscape of legal education differ post 2008 when new law schools from public universities were made subject to a review conducted by the Legal Profession Qualifying Board (LPQB) – failure to obtain full recognition will result in students from the universities concerned, having to sit for Certificate in Legal Practice (CLP) examination. In the light of this development, legal education in Malaysia has become under strict  scrutiny by the legal fraternity, and thus it is a question of what reasonable expectation should the country set on the legal education provided by universities. This article will address legal education from the point of view of universities, the relevance of the CLP examination and the level of skills and knowledge required to produce ‘practice-ready’ graduates. The discussion also considers the availability of the 9-months pupillage before admission to the Malaysian Bar and  other criteria for education as provided for by the Malaysian Qualifications Agency (MQA). The whole paper will be based on the  Legal Profession Act 1976, the MQA guidelines, the developments of legal education in Malaysia and the experience of laws schools under review by the LPQB and other stakeholders.   


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