SARA HANSON
<Contributor>
You’ve probably heard the debate by now, or maybe you have participated in it.
You know the one where your friend says that she learned nothing about how to practice law in law school and summering at (insert name of firm/government office of your choice) was a much more valuable experience. You, on the other hand, might disagree. In fact, you have found law school to be overly practical, and not nearly academic enough. Really we are just learning technical skills that we will one day use to manipulate the law to suit our clients’ desires.
This debate was the topic of a recent article entitled “I didn’t go to law school to become an academic,” published online by Macleans magazine (September 25, 2013). The title of the article is drawn from the words of one of our own 3Ls and one of my fellow classmates. While I have utmost respect for my colleague, I have to say, as lawyers do, that I respectfully disagree with the article’s general argument that law schools should be more practical and less theoretical.
This debate is one that links up to the larger debate about the value of post-secondary education more generally. One need only skim through the Globe and Mail’s recent op-eds (I swear Margaret Wente has written half a dozen articles on this topic in the last year alone) to get a sense of what I am talking about. On the one side, there are those who argue that universities should be in the business of equipping students with the technical skills they need to become productive members of society. Universities should be preparing students for the working world instead of filling their heads with useless ideas that will never translate into practical skills. On the other side of the debate, there are those who argue that universities are not, and have never been, about preparing students for specific jobs. Rather, the purpose of the university is to educate students to think critically about their place and role in society. The skills that are required to succeed in the modern working world, such as the ability to innovate or adapt to new work environments, will flow naturally from the educated mind.
I believe that our own debate in law school is really not any different. I also believe that we need more, not less, theory because this theoretical foundation translates into the ability to think critically about the law, its role in the world and the impact that we are going to have in that world as future lawyers. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not completely against practical, or should I say “praxicum”, experience. I was very fortunate to participate in the poverty law intensive at Parkdale Community Legal Services last year. That experience was undoubtedly the most rewarding and enjoyable part of my law school career. However, I would also credit my previous liberal arts education, as well as the opportunity to learn about the theory of poverty law, for equipping me with the intellectual skills required to process my experience in a meaningful way.
Poverty law can be a very rewarding, but also very draining practice. You are constantly faced with the problems of the most-marginalized individuals in society whose issues are often linked to intersecting areas of oppression. You may be able to help a client avoid eviction this time, but what happens when your client’s refugee claim is denied and her social assistance is cut off? You can help negotiate a payment plan for her rental arrears, but only so far as she has some form of income. The point I am trying to illustrate is that as a law student there is only so much you can do to help. These problems stem from much larger systemic problems that are a matter of policy and largely out of your control. As a result, it is very easy for students of poverty law to develop a sense of hopelessness because the world they thought could be fixed through the law no longer seems possible.
While I definitely experienced that sense of hopelessness at times, I also knew I had to find a way to work through these feelings so that I didn’t burn out and to ensure I could still serve my clients to the best of my abilities. I credit my training in critical thinking (yes, that communications studies degree was worth something after all) for helping me step back and reflect on my experience at Parkdale as I was going through it. I also credit the academic part of the program for providing me with the relevant literature about poverty law and its underlying goals and objectives. Reading this literature allowed me to feel connected to something larger than my own day-to-day experience, provided me with a sense of direction and even allowed me to regain a little hope.
My experience as a Parkdale student is illustrative of the first reason why I think there is still some value to the theoretical/academic side of law school. It provides you with a set of analytical tools to help you make sense of the practical aspects of law. In any area, law is fundamentally about power and the relationships that exist within power structures. Students need to understand what it means to yield this sense of power so that when we go out into the world we know how to use it responsibly. While the debate about whether lawyers are really just hired guns is the topic of another article, we should all remember that our duty to the public interest is not a pie in the sky ideal. It is an obligation, written down in the Rules of Professional Conduct.
A theoretical foundation is also useful for understanding that the law does not just fall from the sky, but rather it comes from somewhere. Those in power create the law, generally as a means to perpetuate their power. While the common law is created by those non-political actors we refer to as judges, it is important to remember that judges are generally, though not always, drawn from the same power structure as the politicians who selected them. Critical thinking teaches us to be skeptical and question the real reason why a law exists. Skepticism allows one to think outside the box. This type of thinking is not just a creative exercise. It is the type of thinking that is used to win landmark cases, and more importantly, to help shape the law and make it a more accurate reflection of our society.
Finally, a more theoretical legal education provides students with the skills they need to think critically about their own lives and careers. Law school is a strange and isolating experience, and it can be very easy to lose sight of who you are and the reasons why you decided to take this journey in the first place. There are a number of pressures, financial and other, that make certain opportunities seem more attractive than they really are. The clearest example is the allure of Bay Street for students who came to law school to do public interest work. Being able to think critically about why students are exposed to these opportunities from the first moment they step foot in the law school may help students stick to the path they originally planned to follow.
Practical experience is not meaningless, especially because the goal for most of us is to become practitioners of the law. But, what is the point of doing something if you don’t know why you are doing it? The theoretical aspects of law school provide space for students to ask the why questions. The answers to these questions may not seem clear now, and we will likely continue asking them for the rest of our careers. However, it is through asking these questions that we will all become better lawyers because ultimately asking questions is how we arrive at the truth.