The other day I had a conversation with a student concerning job searches, employment prospects, law practice realities, and the changes that have swept over the legal profession. I returned to my office to find an invitation to a brainstorming virtual conference on the challenges facing legal education. Unfortunately, the conference schedule and my professional commitments overlap, so I won’t be able to participate. But my conversation minutes earlier and the invitation dovetailed nicely, and I decided to share my thoughts with the world. That’s fitting, because those who selected me as a conference invitee did so in part because of this blog.
An interesting thing about evolution is that it doesn’t grab our attention in the same manner as do revolutionary events. With a few notable exceptions, the dying out of a species is noticed after the fact. It’s unlikely that some early homo sapiens sapiens turned to his parents and said, “Goodness, look at me. I’m homo sapiens sapiens and you’re just homo erectus.” The change is gradual, more easily noticed by those who look in from time to time than by those who have almost constant contact with events. Some years ago, my son and I went to visit my parents. As we walked away from the house, my son, who had been away at school and had not seen my father for a few months, said to me, in words very similar to these, “Granddad doesn’t look good at all. He has really deteriorated.” Because I had seen my father much more frequently, I didn’t see the gradual changes. My son had the advantage, if I dare call it that, of looking in from time to time. And so it goes with what is happening with legal education.
To get a handle on evolutionary change, one who is close to the situation must step away and force themselves to look at selected locations on the developing timeline. That is what I try to do. I try to freeze-frame legal education and law practice as it is now, as it was five years ago, ten years ago, twenty years ago. It’s not so much the trends that I seek, but the extrapolation of change from the differences between characteristics associated with two or more of the selected moments in time. What I see causes me to conclude that during the next ten or fifteen years there will be gradual changes that will make the picture in 2024 very, very different from what it is today. It will be so different that our successors in the twenty-second or twenty-third century will look back and see the early twenty-first century as a time of revolutionary change in legal education because from that distance, it will appear that things changed very quickly.
The process of evolutionary change in legal education already has begun. Large law firms are making changes to how they deal with their first-year associates, by instituting what can be called apprenticeship programs. One arrangement can be seen in the details disclosed by
Howrey LLP. Another arrangement has been developed by
Drinker Biddle and Reath LLP. The differences between the arrangements are small, whereas the similarities are predominant. Generally, firms will reduce first-year associate pay significantly, will limit the number of hours that first-year associates can bill to clients, will cut back the rates at which clients are charged for those associates’ time, and will offer those associates a variety of opportunities to learn what law practice requires of them. Some of those opportunities will consist of judicial externships and following more senior attorneys to observe them in action. But there also will be traditional training in the sense that associates will attend what can be called classes. The firms that are doing this have moved beyond the earlier development, namely, law firms deciding not to hire law school graduates but to restrict entry to lawyers with a few years of experience. In other words, the initial reaction was to let others provide the education that law school graduates need and then to grab the best of them. Other law firms, though, perhaps listening in on my comments, figured out that if everyone sat back and waited for someone else to hire and train law school graduates, there wouldn’t be any trained law school graduates waiting to be grabbed. So firms like Howry and Drinker, and I’m sure there are many others, decided to tackle the problem.
What’s next?
Law firms will discover that to provide the best training without curtailing the production of more senior attorneys, they will need to hire lawyers who have that rare combination of practical experience and pedagogical expertise. For more than a few years, some firms have hired people to come in and teach legal writing, legal research, and similar skills to law school graduates who somehow, much to my consternation, earned J.D. degrees without having polished their ability to do these tasks. So it’s a natural, and evolutionary rather than revolutionary step, to hire a few more people to teach other skills, such as interviewing clients, figuring out where and how to find facts rather than black letter law, counseling clients, professionalism, and even substantive law. These steps will cost the law firms a not insignificant sum of money. Justified by treating the expenditures as an investment, law firms will see growth in what I will call their training staff. Over time, law firms will decide that they cannot permit the cost of training to grow uncontrolled. Someone will suggest that law firms could attain savings through economies of scale, by entering into cooperative arrangements with other firms. Suppose Firm A has someone who is particularly good at training law school graduates in the skill of client interviewing, and Firm B has someone who is just as good at training law school graduates in professionalism. Firm A arranges for its newly hired law school graduates to sit in on the professionalism sessions being taught at Firm B while permitting Firm B’s newly hired law school graduates to sit in on its client interviewing workshops. Either at the outset, or soon thereafter, law firms will create cooperative partnerships or LLPs, or perhaps even non-profit organizations, to handle this training. Advocates of bridge-the-gap programs will be delighted with this development. But it won’t stop there.
As law firms pump money into their “educational cooperatives” while paying law school graduates to attend, they will struggle with the fact that this model generates negative cash flow. There are several ways to deal with this. One is to eliminate the salaries being paid to the first-years associates except to the extent the associates generate the little revenue that they might be generating. Another is to charge the associates for the education that they are receiving. Still another is to invite smaller law firms, firms that cannot afford to set up these sorts of arrangements on their own and that don’t have much of an opportunity to set them up with other small firms, to participate in the “educational cooperatives.” These firms would pay a fee on behalf of their new associates that would permit them to attend the classes, workshops, and other educational activities undertaken by the educational cooperatives. These smaller firms may, in turn, reduce first-year and perhaps even second-year associate pay.
Critics might toss these arrangements aside as nothing more than “glorified apprenticeships.” Apprenticeship in law is not a new thing. In fact, it was the norm until roughly half a century ago. Apprenticeships died out because the time and money challenge to solo practitioners and small firms, which dominated legal practice at the time, pushed legal training into law schools, whose enrollment numbers quickly mushroomed when they and their universities discovered that law schools are profitable operations. Lawyers, for the most part, gladly relinquished the task of training other lawyers because they wanted to practice law, not teach it. The few who found teaching to be fun joined rapidly expanding law faculties or took positions as adjunct faculty often more for the fun of it because the pay for adjuncts was, and continues to be, insubstantial.
The difference this time around is that the bigger law firms have become sufficiently large to permit them to set up these educational cooperatives. As these cooperatives mature, they will lure the best teachers away from law schools, partly because they will offer better pay, and partly because they will provide an environment that is more conducive to emphasis on teaching than is found in many law schools. A few law schools, savvy and prescient, will hasten to form partnerships with these cooperatives, perhaps, in some places, taking them over. These law schools, though, are often disregarded by their peers, in much the same manner as many law faculty sneered at, and continue to put low value on, law faculty who teach clinics. Law firm education cooperatives will also discover that economic and practical factors will compel them to consider, and then adopt, accepting individuals who are not law school graduates. Some of these individuals would receive additional training, destined not to become members of the bar, but to become paralegals, support staff, and other specialists necessary to the operation of a successful law practice. Others will become lawyers. How?
Eventually, the law firm educational cooperatives will find it profitable to take over the training of those individuals that they perceive have potential to be excellent lawyers. It might help to compare this trend to the process by which major league baseball teams ended up with a minor league system, finding it more sensible to “train their own” even though many of their prospects end up with other firms, than to rely solely on players developed by baseball academies. There’s a reason the baseball academy concept didn’t pan out. There are two hurdles that the law firm education cooperatives will face. One is the perception that will lull most existing law schools into lethargic apathy. “They’re not accredited,” will be the usual comment. Yet, if one thinks about it, accreditation isn’t the issue. The issue is whether state Supreme Courts, or the boards under their supervision, will accept “graduates” of these cooperatives as bar examination applicants. Though law schools might think that they have some sort of monopoly, and thus guarantee, on this issue, practicing lawyers outnumber law faculty and law deans, by huge ratios. As the ranks of law school graduates dissatisfied with their law school educational experience, and distressed by the challenges they faced when they started their law practice careers because of deficiencies in their legal education, begin to increase, the political support for changes in bar examination application rules will strengthen. It’s only a matter of time. The other hurdle is the confidence on the part of many law schools, law faculty, and law deans that the only students who would even think about attending a law firm educational cooperative rather than a law school are those who don’t have the qualifications to be admitted to law school. Practical realities, though, will erode that assumption. A huge advantage held by the law firm educational cooperative will be its ability to charge a much lower tuition than do law schools. These cooperatives will not be under pressure to remit cash to a sponsoring university. These cooperatives will not be compelled to hire forty faculty when twenty-five or thirty, or perhaps even twenty, could do the teaching because they’re not caught up in the “scholarly writing” game. In recent years, more and more “young scholars” entering law teaching have demanded a course load of three courses, not for the semester, but for the year. And most of them have received what they have requested.
As these changes continue to follow one after another, or even alongside each other, increasing numbers of students will head for the law firm educational cooperatives. They will be joined by law faculty who aren’t enamored of the transformation that overtook law schools during the past several decades. What will save some of the schools is the fact that many judges will continue to hire graduates of top ten or top twenty law schools to be their clerks, and because those clerks should find jobs, law school applicants with high confidence in their ability to land a clerkship will still head for the Harvards and Yales of the legal education world. Many of the lowest tier schools, with their focus on practical training, will survive, either in tandem with specific law firm educational cooperatives or as absorbed components of those cooperatives. The middle two tiers of law schools, the ones that thought they could out-Yale Yale or out-Harvard Harvard, will fade away. Law firm educational cooperatives might outsource some education to top level law schools, but only if the course meets the needs of law practice. It’s more likely that the cooperatives will try to pry those it considers to be the best teachers away from the law schools. At this point, for reasons of economic security, the teachers will depart.
What will remain? Far fewer law schools, with faculties almost entirely composed of “legal scholars,” with fewer students, and serious financial challenges. Faced with the prospect of raising tuition or increasing teaching loads, the schools will be compelled to choose the latter. If anything, the economics of the law firm educational cooperatives will reinforce tuition reductions. Law faculty accustomed to investing most of its time in writing will find themselves in the classroom for six, seven, perhaps ten courses a year. Those who truly want to spend most of their time writing will depart for think tanks, institutes, and other organizations capable of finding funding to support an activity that the law practice market cannot afford. Others might persuade their universities to transform their law schools into legal institutes, taking on a handful of students as paying fellows, and desperately trying to work out some sort of survival arrangement with the law practice world and its law firm educational cooperatives.
Some law schools might learn the lesson and transform themselves before all of this comes to pass. Surely, as I’ve noted, a few will have done so. But unless Harvard or Yale or Stanford or several of the other “top” law schools does so, almost all the other law schools will “stay the course” (sorry) and wither. Most law schools, and that’s too many law schools, are afraid to buck the trend, in part because of their addiction to the rankings game. Because I think the Harvards and Yales of the legal education world will not see, and cannot see, the implications of what is happening in the law practice world, I doubt that they will evolve, or if they begin to evolve, it will be too late.
Ultimately, universities will seek to enter into arrangements with law firm educational cooperatives. Universities will have almost empty law school buildings to rent out. Some sort of deal will be worked out, though I have not persuaded myself that the cooperatives will become “schools” within the universities. The law firms that operate them will worry that if universities took over their educational cooperatives, the cycle would start over. And having been there and done that, law firms and their cooperatives will be reluctant to return.
And so, one day, ten or fifteen years from now, those who haven’t been paying attention will look around and wonder, “How did this happen? WHEN did this happen?” The answer to the second question is “Not overnight.” The answer to the first will require at least as many paragraphs as are within this blog posting. The details will be somewhat different, but the story will be the same.