Money For Nothing and Work For Free?
by
James Edward Maule

People usually get paid to work. Sometimes they volunteer to work pro bono. Sometimes their parents "give" them chores. But to pay for the opportunity to work? That's insane. But that's law school.

Think about it. You (or a family member) shell out big bucks so that you can take courses taught by law professors who give you work to do. Reading assignments, writing tasks, class presentations, virtual classroom exercises, client meetings, courtroom appearances, hit-list membership, and dozens of other activities require the expenditure of time, calories, and mental energy. Like other things in life, the work just piles up, and the more you finish, the more gets added to the "to do" list. If you do everything, you'll be at it for 60 or 70 hours a week. Imagine!

To top it off, the work product rarely is perfect. Frequently it isn't good enough. You plow through the projects, respond in class, take exams, write papers, and then get grades that seem disproportionately inadequate for the effort you've expended.

There Is No Easy Way

At least that's how it seems. The temptation to ease up looms large. The impulse to gripe surges. It wasn't like this in college, and it's not fun. There has to be an easier way. There isn't.

At least not until someone invents the one-a-day vitamin that turns a mushy brain into an engine of knowledge, understanding, and perception. It's likely that the pill that turns couch potatoes into fitness gurus will hit the stores sooner.

Let's face it. You are here to learn. But not to learn the law, not to acquire information, and not, I daresay, to learn "to think like lawyers." Lawyers don't think any differently than the rest of the species. No, you are here to learn how to learn. To learn how to solve and prevent problems. In other words, to learn how to think. Period.

Hard Work But Rewarding Work

And to learn, you must practice. And practice, as any accomplished athlete or artist will attest, is work. Hard work. Often tedious. Often tiring. Sometimes frustrating. Occasionally boring. And ultimately rewarding.

Practice takes time. Lots of time. Indeed, expecting law school to be less demanding of your time than lawyering invites disappointment. Thinking that spending six hours a week on a three-credit course is too much work guarantees deep shock when the time demands of a two-week trial arrive. Aside from the Einsteins who put in a few hours and earn "A" grades, the rest of us must commit to 70-hour weeks. All semester, not just at the end. But, hey, that still leaves 98 hours for other stuff.

It's Like Riding a Bike

One of my favorite metaphors is that of getting into appropriate physical condition for a particular type of activity. Like bike riding. Sure, it helps to watch someone ride a bike. It might help to read about it. But eventually, to learn to ride, one must get on the bike. And try. And fall. And try again, preferably with the advice of an experienced rider who can spot bad habits, make suggestions, and cajole the novice into getting back on. Even experienced riders, getting trained for a competition event, will try to find a trainer who will push them to the limit, i.e., to the point where resentment, even loathing, sets in. Until after the race is won.

Of course, athletic training differs significantly from law school. It's easy to see the long-term benefits of tolerating, and even coming to accept, the demands of a trainer. After all, it would be rather odd for the competitor-to-be not to have seen a bike race. But it's relatively uncommon for law students to have "seen" the practice of law. A lawyer in the family might provide some insight, but even that experience is more like sitting in an obstructed-view seat at the bike race. And forget about the TV shows. There's a reason they're called dramas or comedies, and not documentaries.

And therein lies the challenge. Acceding to demands from the faculty that you work at something that you don't understand, in order to attain the ability to do something that you haven't seen. Of course, this conundrum is one of the main reasons not only for developing and sustaining clinical and externship programs but also for students' wholehearted embrace of the experiences that those programs provide.

Work Hard and Work Smart

The challenge of "real world" experiences teaches not only that time is a valuable commodity needing to be budgeted, but also that time limits the amount of work that can be effectively accomplished. Most law students start out with poor time-management skills, and some law firm partners claim they graduate with those same inadequacies.

Returning to the biking metaphor, a rider who pedals in neutral surely works hard. But not smart if the goal is to get from one place to another. Many law students, like-wise, lose much precious time spinning their wheels while trying to decipher what is required to succeed in a course.

Just as each sport is different, so, too, is each course. Ever been to a gym and watch someone come in, go to a machine, look bewildered, and then start trying to do something? Something you know is foolish? Perhaps the person presumes that familiarity with similar equipment is sufficient. Perhaps he or she fears "looking stupid" by asking for help. Perhaps he or she doesn't respect the instructor's opinion. Most are lucky and escape death and injury, but many fail to do much for their muscles. It's not working smart to waste time that way. On the contrary, working smart means getting good information from good sources.

Why not ask the instructor? He or she knows best what the course demands. Why wait until the professor gives you the bad news that you're not on the correct route, especially if that news comes on your transcript? Why wait to be called on in class rather than giving it a go and finding out how you're progressing? Why wait until you're so frustrated that your energy turns negative, deepens the hole into which you feel you are sinking, and induces you to give up?

Do It For Your Clients

You get one chance at law school. Make it count. Picture the clients who will depend on you. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for them. Be prepared for them. Do well for them by reaching down for that last ounce of effort, so that you can, for example, resolve a matter in your client's favor merely with a cite to controlling authority that you made time to find and learn.

You arrived ready to pay top dollar for a J.D. degree. Perhaps you felt like the auto financing ad theme: "I WANT IT. I DESERVE IT." But you've discovered that the money buys the experience of learning, not the degree. For the degree, it will be like your professional reputation. The piece missing from the ad. "I EARNED IT."