Statute of Frogs

There’s a bit of discussion at Concurring Opinions and The Volokh Conspiracy about the relative merits of teaching from unedited cases as opposed to a casebook that provides edited versions of them.  I took one class in law school where we read unedited (mostly SCOTUS) cases and it was (not coincidentally) the best class I took during my three years.

Casebooks have their inherent advantages.  If one is trying to learn the basics of a broad area of law, it’s much more useful to read hundreds of cases that have been distilled to their essence than to read a few dozen in their entirety.  But at some point, lawyers have to learn how to quickly process cases in their raw form.  This is just one of many ways in which law school often fails to prepare students well for the practice of law.  It was in this class that I really learned how to work with complete cases and make sense of them, a skill I use every day in my clerkship.¹

Another aspect of this issue is that casebooks teach students to look for the single nugget of wisdom in a case.  We get the idea that a case “stands for” a particular legal proposition.  While that is often true in practice, treating all cases that way removes any sense of the subtlety that often exists.  I see this lack of subtlety in briefs all the time.  Lawyers will distill a case down to a particular legal principle, but will fail to address the factual differences between that case and their own.  Alternatively, they will identify the broad principle in the case, but fail to see how that principle fits into the concerns that the judges raised in the rest of the opinion.

Finally, often one of the parts that gets cut out of cases in edited form is the review of the existing case law that judges invariably embark on.  It is interesting — and valuable — to see the subtle ways in which courts distort their own precedents in order to reach a desirable result in later cases.  That is often lost in the casebook view of an area of the law.

Obviously, these are not skills that always need to be taught in the classroom.  Legal research assignments, journal comments, and other activities will help students develop those skills.  But I, for one, am grateful to have had the experience of dealing with the raw cases in a classroom context.  I think I’m a better lawyer for it.

1. Well…maybe not every day.  But really often. [↩]

From the Washington D.C. Craigslist, posted a few days ago:¹

I am looking for a partner to travel back in time with me. This is NOT A JOKE. I have done this before. Your gender is not important, but you must have your own weapons. Contact me immediately.

I’d love to know both what motivates someone to post this and what kind of responses it brings.  I’m also curious how far back in time he/she is planning to go (are we talking last week? Romans? dinosaurs?) and what kind of weapons might be required.  And it would be really cool if this had a posting date from some time next week.

1. No, I don’t have any reason to be browsing Craigslist for Washington.  A friend (who also has no reason to be browsing, but never mind) brought this to my attention. [↩]

Besides choosing recommenders, the other important choice about your application itself is what to use as a writing sample. Like the recommendations, this won’t help you make the first cut,¹ but it’s one of your best opportunities to differentiate yourself.

Obviously, your writing sample should demonstrate your ability to write well. But it’s also your only chance to directly show your ability to wrestle with legal concepts.

It all turned out fine² in the end, but this is one area where I really didn’t help myself. I submitted my law review comment which, although it was well-written was both too long and not doctrinal enough to be to my best advantage.

At least for the district court, what you most want to show is your ability to unpack a complex area of the law and apply it to some facts.³ Among the sorts of written work law students tend to have lying around their hard drives,⁴ moot court briefs may well be your best bet. If you’ve got a memo that you wrote for a professor or lawyer you worked with,⁵ that may be good, too.  A section of a comment or seminar paper may work, but be sure it’s one that gets down and dirty with a specific statutes or cases.  That’s the skill you’re trying to show a district court judge.

Also, shorter (within reason) is better.  If your best work is long, consider cutting it down by reducing it to a single issue.  Very few judges are going to read even 10 pages of what you give them (unless they’re already really interested) and you want to make sure they read the best part.

Finally, if you’ve got someone who’s advising you through the process, have them read the sample and comment on it.  There’s no reason you can’t take something you used for a class and spruce it up for submission.  As long as the work is yours,⁶ there’s no reason you can’t get advice on how to improve it.⁷

1. If a judge gets 200-300 applications, you can imagine that there’s little attention paid to the writing sample in the first read-through. [↩]
2. Actually, it turned out really well. [↩]
3. For appellate courts, whose work more academic by nature, a comment may work better. [↩]
4. I wouldn’t advocate writing something new just for this purpose unless you really don’t have anything you’re happy with. [↩]
5. Get permission before using it, of course. [↩]
6. This eliminates the record version any brief or opinion you drafted for a judge or lawyer you might have worked for that your employer later edited and filed. [↩]
7. I admit the line here is sometimes less than obvious.  But I look on anything that was actually filed and is being presented as the writing sample of a law student with suspicion.  For me, the dividing line is who made the final decision about what was going to be included. [↩]