Here's my reaction:
Spotting the issues gets a student to a passing grade. Spotting the issues is often rather easy in tax. Getting the right analysis is what matters most. Correct result is important if there is one.It has always been an obstacle to my teaching to encounter students whose educational experience has led them to conclude that memorization and regurgitation, or identifying issues, is sufficient to succeed in practice. It has always been a frustration that there are a few law school faculty who choose not to break first-year students of this misperceptions because they fear the dislike of students and the resulting low evaluation scores, because it means I get an even more difficult task of disabusing students of their years of misimpression, which has been even more deeply imbedded into their mental processes because one or two of their law faculty have enabled the flaw.
My exams are a mixture. Some easy questions, with easy issue spotting and/or easy correct results. Some in the middle. And a few tough ones to identify the A students.
I tend not to emphasize arithmetic. There's some, but it's not pervasive. I try to distinguish use of or reference to the wrong number from can't add or divide. The former is serious, the latter trivial (for the exam but not in practice so they lose a point or two at most out of 150).
Generally, I am as demanding of my students as clients are of their advisors and partners are of their associates. No use lulling the students into a false sense of law practice. They have TV shows to do that for them!
One of the reasons I invest a lot of time creating 10 new questions each semester for use in during-semester exercises is that I want the opportunity to identify for each student the sort of question-answering pattern that costs them examination points. I prefer that a student do poorly on one 8 point question during the semester and learn not to respond in the same manner the next time around than to have a student do poorly on 50 points worth of questions when there is no next time around (at least not in that course). Too many episodes of remorse and tears accompanied by "I wish I knew this before the exam" and "Now I know why I didn't do so well on my first-year exams" propelled me into the during-semester evaluation process that is unusual for law school courses other than simulation, clinic and other hands-on small enrollment courses (which generally are small enrollment partly because of the need for during-semester evaluation). I've turned my courses into small-enrollment type courses with enrollments of 50, 75, 100, and sometimes more. I've been told by the Dean that it must be an insane amount of work, and it is. But that is, I am convinced, what I am being paid to do.
The tough questions that my students encounter aren't the ones that ask for issue spotting, or even the ones that ask for result. The tough questions are the ones that give the answer and ask why, that ask which argument doesn't fit with the others, that ask what information needs to be obtained from the client before analysis can begin, or that ask which facts need to be changed to alter the outcome.
A few years ago, one very bright, top-of-the-class student who was struggling with the during-semester exercises and baffled by the inconsistency between those scores and the previously-earned grades, said to me, after a series of conversationd over a several-week span, "I get it. Everyone else says 'Here are the facts, what is the answer?' and you're saying 'If we want the answer to be x, what must the facts be?' You've turned around the process into an analytical reasoning. I get it." Sure did. Exercises scores rocketed back up into familiar territory and the student aced the course. The following semester the student returned to tell me that the change in the thinking process had been carried into writing, and that the law firm for which the student had clerked made an on-the-spot offer because of the excellence of the analysis in the writing. THAT means far more to me than the popularity contest played out in student evaluations, some filled out by students who admit to investing an hour or less each week to the course or who otherwise have failed to get on board and are angry because they have not been spoon-fed and coddled.
The problem exists in other professions. There is such a reluctance to offend a student or hurt a student's feelings by telling it like it is that the pressure to inflate grades continues to intensify. I've seen several stories during the past month about faculty at other institutions claiming they had been terminated for having refused to inflate grades. Society is already beginning to pay the price, the price of having people given responsibilities for which they are not prepared, trained, educated, or ready. In the long run, it is a good thing to identify areas needing improvement and to highlight the message with scores and grades that rattle the student. It also makes sense to explain to students what it is they need to be doing and to give them opportunities to try that aren't an all-or-nothing end-of-semester examination. Teaching requires and demands feedback. When I try to persuade students to work throughout the semester and to ditch the end-of-semester cram silliness encouraged by the all-or-nothing end-of-semester exams (even those who evaluate in that manner do not intend to discourage during-semester work), I emphasize that a failed effort is better than no effort because it teaches.
For the students who do what needs to be done, happily or not, their clients someday will benefit. And I don't care that their clients may never know what went into the shaping of the student's mind that contributed to the successful professional. I know, the student knows, and I suppose Higher Authority knows. Oh, I guess now you know.