Law students are forced to deal with many challenges. They have to juggle courses like Contracts, Criminal Law and Civil Procedure in the same semester while making sure they can remember the details of complicated fact patterns. If a law student is unable to organize this information, it will add further stress come exam time.
I didn't want to fall prey to disorganization, so I began researching ahead of time how I could keep my information straight. The answer: Microsoft OneNote - a powerful organization tool that can keep your academic life in shape. Since learning about OneNote, I have used it to organize the notes I take in class and at home. (Full disclosure: I am not being paid by Microsoft to promote OneNote, but I really wouldn't mind. Are you listening, Steve Ballmer?)
From what I've observed, most people have no idea what OneNote can do - all they know is that it came with Microsoft Office and has been left untouched since they installed Word, Excel and Powerpoint. This is a shame because OneNote is particularly useful to students who need to organize a lot of information and access it quickly.
To the uninitiated, OneNote may not seem like much. "Why should I use OneNote when I can take notes in Word?" they ask.
Let me count the ways:
OneNote makes switching between class notes easy. For those who take notes in Word, you have to manually locate the files you want, which may involve going through several folders and sub-folders, depending on how organized you are. With OneNote, you can create separate "notebooks" or "sections" for each class, and flip over to them with one click. Likewise, you can create separate "pages" for each day's worth of notes without having to open multiple documents. You can also search across all these pages simultaneously.
Here, "notebooks" run down the side, while "sections" run along the top. It's up to you how to organize, but OneNote makes switching easy.
I have created a page for each day of notes, and can switch to and search all of them with ease.
Never lose your files again. OneNote automatically saves your work while you type. You don't have to worry about accidentally exiting without saving, or having a sudden crash wipe out your data.
Type where you want, how you want. One of the best parts about taking notes by hand is the ability to write anywhere on your paper. But in Word, you are limited to where you can type. For instance, you have to hit tab several times if you want to start typing at an indent. In contrast, OneNote allows you to start typing anywhere on the screen with one click. In practice, I use this feature to write small side notes in the margins while I am in class. OneNote restores the freedom to write anywhere.
Try getting Word to create text like this!
Tag notes for easy retrieval. This is perhaps OneNote's greatest strength. With just a couple keystrokes, you can "star" your notes as important, classify them as definitions, or mark them as questions to review later. I love this feature, especially the definitions. You can highlight important definitions, and then use OneNote to compile them all in a single list. You can even use OneNote to specify what class you'd like to see definitions for. Thus with little effort, you can build a dictionary for each of your classes.
All the definitions/important notes I've tagged for Civil Procedure.
I understand that people are used to taking notes with Word and may not be willing to learn a new program. But OneNote is simple to use and can keep your law school life organized and keep your stress levels down. Unfortunately, my Criminal Law professor for next semester is banning laptops completely, which means I will have to live without my trusty OneNote.
In an academic setting where homework dictates just about nil of your grade, you might be tempted to shirk it. After all, you went to undergrad, right? You only really have to know what the professor goes over in class. Just take good notes and you'll be good to go.
Well, not quite. Obviously, the entire grade (or nearly the entire grade - some schools and professors may allow a slight bump for good participation in class) is based on the final exam. However, you cannot expect to do really well on that exam without doing the reading, and the most important part of your reading assignments are the cases. Law school books often follow a format of setting up a topic through a normal textbook discussion of the issue followed by one or more cases designed to illustrate the concept. For example, a certain criminal law textbook devotes a section to how a capacity to obey affects the culpability of the defendant and follow it up with the famous The Queen v. Dudley & Stephens 14 Q.B.D. 273 (1884) case.
Regardless of whether you take notes on the reading or not, it is in your interest to at least brief the cases. You may have encountered briefing in your undergraduate studies, especially if you were a political science major or took pre-law courses. But for law school you will literally be reading a dozen cases or more per week, and it will be important to know the rules established in each of them for the final exam. Your briefs, in turn, need to be...well, brief. Prior to law school - and others have reported a similar phenomenon - my case briefs took almost an hour to complete, and would go on for two or three pages. Not very convenient to add to your course outlines when you start studying!
Within this first week, my whole practice of briefing has changed. I used to brief as I read, and I would painstakingly copy as much detail as I could from the judicial opinions. If you brief like that, you should know: you will actually save valuable time if you read the case first and then brief. In the short time I've been in law school, I've cut the amount of time it takes me to brief from nearly an hour to mere minutes, and the length of each brief is now between half and three-fourths of a page. They run a bit longer if there's a dissenting opinion. The point is, I've managed to increase efficiency and generate better-quality briefs just by changing my modus operandi in the practice.
However, it is possible that you have never even heard of case briefing. My experience during the first few days of law school was that there are as many people who have never had to do this for their classes before. The school, cognizant of this, has offered a plethora of opportunities for students to familiarize themselves with the process. They have offered how-to workshops, the professors have discussed it in the first days of the course, and some of the textbooks include short segments on briefing in the preface. Additionally, as I was reading some of the wide array of literature aimed at preparing entering 1L's, I came across a few chapters offering tips and guidelines (notably in Law School Without Fear, which is a pretty good primer overall if you're looking for one).
In short, there's just enough help out there to leave the unassuming student more than slightly confused. At the core of all the advice out there, though, case briefing can be reduced to one word: FIRAC.
That's no typo. FIRAC is an acronym that refers to the basic structure of a good case brief. It stands for Facts, Issue, Ruling, Analysis, Conclusion. I'll get into the specifics of what each of these means shortly, but let's stop for a moment and consider the advantages of this system. For one thing, it's pretty standard. You can adapt this basic form to almost any peculiarities in a professor's method (though it's important to point out that, as you won't be turning in your briefs, they really only need to make sense to you). Another big plus is that it mimics the basic format of your final exam answers, minus the facts portion (usually referred to, intuitively, as IRAC). Finally, it pretty effectively breaks down the main components of a case that you will need to know for classes. Having your cases set up in this format will enable you to quickly scan the page for the answer in class. When the professor singles you out and demands to know the issue raised in the case, it will be handy to just glance at your brief's issue section rather than drudge through the casebook, leaving an awkward silence in your wake.
The headings of each section may seem somewhat self-explanatory, but it is useful to describe them and their function in a law-oriented fashion. Each section has a very specific function in the overall calculus of the case and deserves attention as such.
1. Facts
The facts of the case. Since you will largely dealing with appellate decisions, the facts are often presented as a summary of what was discovered in the trial court proceedings - very rarely will an appellate decision concern a question of fact. This section may seem simple enough, but it will be your job to isolate the legally relevant facts. Since each case is dealing with a specific issue of law, you will only really be interested in those facts that lead the court to decide as it does. Let's use Elliff v. Texon Drilling Co. 210 S.W.2d 588 (1948) to help illustrate. The following is from Judge Folley's opinion:
"The petitioners owned the surface and certain royalty interest in 3054.9 acres of land in Nueces County, upon which there was a producing well known as Elliff No. 1. They owned all the mineral estate underlying the west 1500 acres of the tract, and an undvided one-half interest in the mineral estate underlying the east 1554.9 acres. Both tracts were subject to oil and gas leases, and therefore their royalty interest in the west 1500 acres was one-eighth of the oil or gas, and in the east 1554.9 acres was one-sixteenth of the oil and gas.
It was alleged that these lands overlaid approximately fifty percent of a hugh reservoir of gas and distillate and that the remainder of the reservoir was under the lands owned by Mrs. Clara Driscoll, adjoining the lands of petitioners on the east. Prior to November 1936, respondents were engaged in the drilling of Driscoll-Sevier No. 2 as an offset well at a location 466 feet east of petitioners' east line. On the date stated, when respondents had reached a depth of approximately 6838 feet, the well blew out, caught fire and cratered. Attempts to control it were unsuccessful, and huge quantities of gas, distillate and some oil were blown into the air, dissipating large quantities from the reservoir into which the offset well was drilled. When the Driscoll-Sevier No. 2 well blew out, the fissure or opening in the ground around the well gradually increased until it enveloped and destroyed Eliff No. 1. The latter well also blew out, cratered, caught fire and burned for several years. Two water wells on petitioners' land became involved in the cratering and each of them blew out. Certain damages also resulted to the surface of petitioners' lands and to their cattle thereon. The cratering process and the eruption continued until large quantities of gas and distillate were drained from under petitioners' land and escaped into the air, all of which was alleged to be the direct and proximate result of the negligence of respondents in permitting their well to blow out. The extent of the emissions from the Driscoll-Sevier No. 2 and Elliff No. 1, and the two water wells on petitioners' lands, was shown at various times during the several years between the blowout in November 1936, and the time of the trial in June 1946. There was also expert testimony from petroleum engineers showing the extent of the losses from the underground reservoir, which computations extended from the date of the blowout only up to June 1938. It was indicated that it was not feasible to calculate the losses subsequent thereto, although lesser emissions of gas continued even up to the time of the trial. All the evidence with reference to the damages included all losses from the reservoir beneath petitioners' land without regard to whether they were wasted and dissipated from above the Driscoll land or from petitioners' land.
The jury found that respondents were negligent in failing to use drilling mud of sufficient weight in drilling their well, and that such negligence was the proximate cause of the well blowing out. It also found that petitioners had suffered $ 4,620.00 damage to sixty acres of the surface, and $ 1,350.00 for the loss of 27 head of cattle. The damages for the gas and distillate wasted "from and under" the lands of petitioners, due to respondents' negligence, was fixed by the jury at $ 78,580.46 for the gas, and $ 69,967.73 for the distillate. These figures were based upon the respective fractional royalty interests of petitioners in the whole amount wasted under their two tracts of land, and at a value, fixed by the court without objection by the parties, of two cents per 1,000 cubic feet for the gas and $ 1.25 per barrel for the distillate. . . .
On the findings of the jury the trial court rendered judgment for petitioners for $ 154,518.19, which included $ 148,548.19 for the gas and distillate, and $ 5,970.00 for damages to the land and cattle. The Court of Civil Appeals reversed the judgment and remanded the cause."
Got all that? Don't worry; we'll break it down into a more manageable chunk shortly. It should be apparent why I chose this case as an example now - there a lot of facts, and they're all fairly convoluted and sometimes maddeningly specific. This is critical for judges arriving at opinions, but counterproductive if you're trying to come up with a manageable length of material to be able to quickly skim over. This is also partly why I advocate reading the case once over before trying to brief and paying attention to its contextual place within the casebook, as that will give you a clue what the case is about (we'll talk more about this in the issue section).
Basically, as we will see, this case deals with the law of capture. In Texas, landowners are generally considered to have ultimate title to their real estate property, which includes oil and other resources below ground. However, by the law of capture, if an entity is engaged in a reasonable production of, in this case, oil, then any oil that migrates from one person's property into the area of production is no longer considered the property of the original landowner. This will come into play somewhat in the analysis section, but it helps to understand the legal question at hand before extrapolating the relevant facts.
So what happened in Elliff? Basically, the oil company was negligent and some of their oil wells suffered a blowout. This in turn cased drainage from the Elliffs' property, which was adjacent to the area being drilled. They sued the oil company for damages. The oil company argued that the law of capture protected them from liability for the drainage. The jury in the trial court found for the plaintiff, but the Court of Civil Appeals overturned that decision.
And that, my friends, is actually a pretty darn good fact section. You might spiff it up a bit if you want to read something along the lines of "Defendants were drilling for oil on land east of plaintiff's property..." and so forth. But this gives us the basis underlying the legal dispute.
It's also important, I wish to note, to include the procedural history of the case. I actually like the make it a separate category, even though that messes up the whole FIRAC scheme a bit. Either way, do include what lower courts have said on the topic. This is especially important because law school deals mostly with appellate cases, since these deal with questions of law rather than fact-finding.
One final caveat is that the facts should not be taken as gospel truth - instead, the appellate court generally assumes that whatever facts the lower court decided upon are true. The appellate decision rests on applying a legal question to the given facts. When you're discussing the case in class, the professor may challenge you to look beyond the presented facts and decide if some other set of facts might be true - i.e. if, in a criminal case, someone made a deal with the police to escape prosecution.
2. Issue
The issue is the legal question in the case. We have already touched on it in the preceding section. We noted above that the plaintiffs were arguing based on their ultimate title to their land while the defendants cited the law of capture as a protection against a lawsuit.
The issue is presented as a question. For Elliff, then, we might say something like, "Does the law of capture protect the oil company in this case?"
Sometimes, the opinion will flat out say, "The issue the court is called upon to decide is this." Other times, it's not so easy. It will become easier to spot the issue as you read more cases, though. Also, as I mentioned before, reading the context material in the casebook can be a big help; when in doubt, it should at least get you in the general realm of the issue and give you some good clues.
3. Ruling
Another personal touch I like to bring to this is separating the holding from the rule established. What's the difference? The holding is just the result of the case - pretty much the answer to the question we came up with for the issue section. The rule is the common law precedent that the court comes up with to help decide future cases of a similar nature. The formal principle of justice - treat like cases alike - dictates that instances with similar situations ought to have similar results, and the rule gives future courts in a given jurisdiction guidelines for deciding future instances. If there is no new rule established, then this can refer to the common law precedent being cited (for instance, the oil company was arguing that the rule of capture should control the outcome) or statutory authority.
The relationship between the holding and the rule is syllogistic in nature. Ultimately, the rule is the major premise, the facts are the minor premise, and the holding is the conclusion. Let's continue with Elliff. The rule was that non-liability under the rule of capture cannot be extended to cases of negligence and the holding was that the Elliffs were entitled to damages. So, presented as syllogism, we would have:
Major premise: Non-liability for the company under the rule of capture does not extend to instances of negligence.
Minor premise: The drainage from plaintiff's property was the result of the company's negligence.
Conclusion: Therefore, the company is liable.
If you can easily chart this relationship, then you've correctly identified the rule, the holding, and the relevant facts. Remembering this relationship can help you if you're having trouble with any of these sections.
4. Analysis
This is the "why" of the court's decision, and the end toward which much of the opinion is geared. In Elliff, the court's analysis follows like so. The law of capture is intended to protect entities engaged in reasonable development of oil and other natural resources. However, it does not give companies the right to waste. Because the accident resulted from the company's negligence, the drainage from plaintiffs property constitutes a wasteful use of the oil. The drainage was neither legitimate nor a reasonable appropriation because it was caused by the lax care of the company's oil well. As a result, the plaintiff's lost the ability to produce the oil on their land as they saw fit. Therefore, the law of capture does not apply and the company owes the plaintiffs damages.
If there was a dissenting opinion, I like the include that as well. It will be good practice to at least be cognizant of opposing arguments, and dissenting opinions will only help you in class if the professor calls on you to argue the opposite position that the court took. Thus, while the dissenting opinion has no legal weight, it is good to be familiar with it.
5. Conclusion
I like to call this one the procedural result section. Basically, this is what the court ordered in regards to the case at hand. For Elliff, the case was reversed (meaning the Court of Civil Appeals decision is thrown out) and remanded (meaning it was sent back to the trial court for a new trial; there's a little bit of procedural mumbo-jumbo at the end about jurisdiction, but if you're doing this for your property class, that won't matter as much).
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And, with that, we have created a perfectly good case brief. As a last note, be sure to include the case title at the top of the page so you remember what case you're dealing with.
You should be briefing probably all of the cases you go over in class in order to have complete notes at the end of the semester. Like I said, your briefs don't need to strictly follow this format. This will just provide you with the foundation you will need. Most importantly, get a sense for what your professor wants you to know for class discussion and for what works best for you personally.
This is a skill that not everybody has going into law school. By familiarizing yourself with the process before you start, you will have an advantage both in crafting your study outlines and in participating in class.
Our friend Beagle has discussed what you might see at a law school orientation. My experience was very similar. For those who will be entering law school soon, take advantage of your orientation - meet your professors, learn the lay of the land and ask lots of questions!
Questions, as those entering law school will soon learn, are an essential part of the legal education environment. Having completed my first week of law school (and preparing to enter my second), I can safely say that you will often find the law (and law professors!) often brings up more questions than answers. This is because the law itself is often ambiguous, and the professors can exploit this ambiguity by twisting facts and asking students to weigh in.
Which brings me to the Socratic Method, a teaching style that is employed at most law schools. Unlike college professors, who typically lecture about a topic, law school instructors teach their students by asking them questions about the implications of the law, how and when it applies, and what goals it serves. (The Socratic method is named for the philosopher Socrates, whose incessant questioning would often drive his students to exasperation).
Sometimes the questions are easy: "Who was the plaintiff in this case?" Sometimes they require a bit of research: "What precedent did the court rely on to decide this way?" Sometimes they make you role-play: "Pretend you are the plaintiff's attorney - how would you argue?" And sometimes they require you to defend yourself: "Why do you think the defendant was negligent?"
The result is a level of professor-student interaction that I rarely saw in college. Students will raise their hands at every question like eager first graders. They are quick to form opinions or try and redeem themselves if their answer is wrong. Rarely do you get a straight "I don't know."
(Of course, it is against the student's interest to say "I don't know, because it suggests they are unprepared - a big no no in law school. If you are absolutely unprepared due to an emergency or a night of heavy drinking, some professors will allow you to give them a slip of paper explaining your lack of preparation at the beginning of class, no questions asked. This little slip of paper will spare potential humiliation. Be warned though, you can only do this a couple times a semester).
The Socratic Method allows law students to explore with the professor how seemingly concise laws (or more specifically, court decisions) can be interpreted in diverse ways. For instance, in a famous 19th century case involving ownership of a dead fox (Pierson v. Post for you property law buffs), half the class supported the plaintiff, while the other supported the defendant based on how they read the case.
Because students are constantly interacting with the professor, together they can come up with a better understanding of the law than if the professor was just lecturing.
The disjointed nature of the Socratic Method will likely frustrate note takers. "Should I write down everything that's said?" they may ask themselves. Fear not - after a few rounds of questions, the professor will usually step back and offer some explanations. Be sure to pay attention for these moments, and take notes as if the professor were lecturing. While your fellow students are certainly very smart, you do not need to take down their answers unless you feel it helps you better understand the material.
There is one significant downside to the Socratic Method. While it fosters greater class participation, in the hands of some professors it can create unnecessary stress and even fear among students. Some professors will pick a student and spend perhaps 20 minutes questioning them - and only them - about a case, analyzing their opinion of the law, why they think that way and what they would do if the facts were different.
When a professor uses the Socratic Method in this way, it creates fear in the classroom. Students who are still trying to understand the case will avert their eyes, hoping not to catch the professor's attention. They do not want to look like a fool for buckling under questioning - indeed the students are more likely scared of being humiliated in front of their fellow classmates than the professor (though there is the issue of unpreparedness as mentioned above). During orientation, one woman who received an early taste of the Socratic Method was brought to tears.
In my experience so far, the use of the Socratic Method has been more gentle, with professors treating it like a conversation rather than an interrogation. In my torts class however, the professor is a bit more abrupt, though still convivial. He will cut off students who do not give the right answer (I personally was cut off after 2 words), and will respond with "Absolutely not!" when students offer a wrong question. And yet, he is perhaps the most beloved of all the professors by my section!
I am told that in the next few weeks, law school will start to get even more difficult. That may well lead to more difficult questions, and more Socratic confrontations. But even though I know that my improv skills aren't the greatest, I know that many of my classmates are in the same boat. We'll have to survive the Socratic Method together.
Postscript: Like my colleague, I, too will begin tagging my posts for ease of use. Forgive us if our tags may not be uniform in the beginning!
When Perry and I started this blog, we agreed to do about one (substantial) post per week each. I believe he has indicated that he is working on something about classes to be put up soon, so keep a weather eye open for that. I, on the other hand, ran into a bit of a snag. I had originally intended to keep up with my string of "how-to" posts and write on briefing cases, since I learned how to do it in undergrad and my orientation this week showed me that it's a surprisingly rare skill for incoming 1Ls. However, I soon learned that there will be a workshop at my school next week on this very topic, and I felt that it would be remiss to not scope that out first and get a sense of their suggestions. Furthermore, I did not want to write a lengthy treatise on this only to generate a brief "oh yeah by the way" addendum next week or try to fit it into the existing post. So that's out for this week.
Which leaves me only to make a brief announcement that I will from here on out be including tags in my posts for easy reference to aid enterprising legal scholars. I feel like, if our intent is to convey our experiences for future students, it would be helpful if they could quickly access anything they desire to read about without skimming across the entire blog. I haven't discussed this with Perry yet, so I will only be instituting it for my posts for now to experiment a little. Please pardon our dust.
Orientation concluded yesterday. I don't care much for orientations by and large, and I won't get into the boring details about it, but even I couldn't help but glean a few useful tidbits from the process. The chancellor made quite a good introductory speech on Wednesday telling us that we were entering a service profession and that we must avoid feeling superior by virtue of becoming officers of the court. Our goal, in whatever field of law we pursue, is to serve. We are to be mouthpieces for our clients, to translate their desires, needs, fears, and wants into the complex legal language that our country's far-too-fragile rule of law demands. I think this is the message I'm taking into year one, and hopefully beyond.
The two other main themes, derived from this main one, were pro bono work and professionalism. In the first vein, we were informed that the ABA recommends attorneys to devote 50 hours per year to pro bono work - which translates into about a week's worth of work total. We were further told of the myriad of opportunities that we would have to do pro bono work of our own by volunteering to provide free legal services for the homeless, immigrants, and others who daily fall through the cracks (all under the supervision of a licensed attorney, of course). I feel sure that this will be in my future in some way, though perhaps I will wait until my second year to get deeply involved. It was nonetheless good to hear that there is force behind that "service profession" claim.
On the topic of professionalism, we were constantly reminded not only that we are building our reputation now but also that the colleagues we meet with in class will be our firm partners, the judges we appear before, the elected officials who make and enforce laws, and the adversaries we meet in the court room. A far cry better than a bitter reminder, as was the case in the past, that a full third of us will not be there next year (they actually made sure to reassure that virtually all of us will graduate).
I don't feel like I've adequately expounded on these themes or addressed them with requisite eloquence, but let them remain there as a guide as we embark on this journey through law school. The time to commence the journey has come at last.
I had better start on that civil procedure reading...
Greetings, legal enthusiasts! Our friend, Perry Mason, has already offered a brief overview of our purpose here - to chronicle our own adventures through 1L and beyond that might benefit future generations of aspiring lawyers. There is little else new I can say on the matter except to re-phrase it in my own words: we hope that we can de-mystify the law school experience and offer advice based on our experiences. Since I have yet to officially begin my own law school journey, I thought I would cover for my inaugural entry an overview of some strategies to adopt for the admissions process.
As law school approaches rapidly (unlike my friend, Mr. Mason, I will not orient until next week), I find myself casting my mind back to a year ago, when applications had yet to begin, and recalling the four-letter word of law school aspirants - the one that begins with "L" and ends in the past participle of "sit." See, as any law school applicant will soon learn, the admissions process is often brutally efficient. Unlike the disparate affair - perhaps better thought of as a "shotgun approach" - endemic to undergrad admissions, law schools conform to the singular, deity-like monolith that is the Law School Admissions Council. This has its advantages, such as cutting down wasted paper and wasted time. The first simply because the entire process is online. The second because, while most schools will still require a small supplemental portion or an idiosyncratic essay ("In less than 500 words, tell us what appeals to you about UC Irvine and why you would be a good fit here"), you will fill out your personal information once, when you open your lsac.org account, and from there on out that information will be automatically filled out on the main application for each and every school you apply to. Genius - makes the College Board look like a slipshod anachronism.
The result of this is a national system of law schools that is fairly unified. It's a delightfully federal system in many ways. But it does have its drawbacks as far as the students are concerned. And the LSAT is one of them.
Standardized testing is, of course, highly convenient for almost everybody involved - schools have a ready-made standard to judge applicants and students face a unified body of criteria to meet, rather than having to go through a confusing process for each individual school. The natural downside of this, however, is that a slip-up here can have detrimental effects on all future prospects, at least until the scores expire in five years. Unlike undergraduate schools, many of which are slowly moving away from reliance on the SAT and other standardized tests as a basis of admission, law schools hold dearly to them. In fact, the LSAC has made something of a science out of helping students calculate their chances of admission based on their score. If that particular link is perhaps a little too theoretical - we are lawyers, after all; we get the court to subpoena mathematicians to do this stuff for us when we need it - plug-n-play calculators can be found with a quick Google search, such as this one, to generate a list of school and show your probability of being accepted. The point of all of this? Your law school admission will essentially come down to two things: your LSAT score and your undergraduate GPA, and the LSAT score is a fair bit more important than your GPA. Other factors contribute as well, but these are the top two, bar none.
I knew this as I was going into my LSAT, and you probably have a least a vague sense of it by now without me telling you all this. There's a lot of pressure packed into the LSAT, more so than perhaps any other test (except perhaps the Bar exam, which I would know nothing about at this point). Looking back, I had a lot of disparate advice and, while I certainly managed well enough, I wish I had had a unified body of guidelines to go with in my preparations.
When my friend and I started this blog, our purpose was to provide our own thoughts on law school and offer a helping hand to those who will come after us. I think we would be remiss to not include a mention of some strategies for tackling admissions in general and the LSAT in particular. Therefore, I am compiling a list of five key tips that I think would be useful to law school hopefuls, based both on what I did and what I failed to do (I won't say which is which!).
1. Start Early
This seems like a no-brainer, but it has to be said. Don't procrastinate on getting on with this, especially if you're taking the September test and facing the tantalizing seduction of kicking back over the summer. Commit to at least an hour a day a few months beforehand. Give yourself time to both go over the strategies given to you and take multiple practice exams. Score yourself continually and isolate those areas you need to improve upon and get to work on them.
This also goes for applications. Some schools use rolling admissions (including a number of very good ones, such as UC Berkeley), which means the earlier you apply the better your odds at landing a spot. Even if your top choice doesn't practice rolling admissions, you'll feel better if you get it out of the way so you can focus on finishing off your last year of undergrad strong.
2. Buy a Good Book
Don't bother with overpriced tutoring lessons. There's nothing you'll get from paying an individual hundreds of dollars to train you how to take the test that you won't get from finding a good practice and strategy guide for about thirty bucks. If I may recommend one, Kaplan makes an excellent guide. Be sure to read it cover-to-cover and do all of the practice exams. They really do work quite well on training your mind to tackle some of the more difficult portions of the test, especially the logic games. In this light, the answer sheets are almost as important as the meat of the text itself - a good book will include detailed answers to the multiple choice questions, demonstrating exactly why the right answer is the right answer.
Also, non-LSAT-related materials can be helpful, too. If you want to read the "Very Short Introduction" series' book on logic, that can help put you in the right mindset. Heck, I even heard of someone who read Alice in Wonderland as part of a preparation regimen, hoping to benefit from the word games and logic exercises inherent in the story.
3. Don't Write Off the Writing Section
The essay portion of the LSAT is not reflected in your ultimate score. Do not let this prevent you from taking this seriously. In law school, you will need to be able to write effective arguments clearly and concisely. The LSAT is good training for this skill. Even though the writing portion is not scored per se, it is nevertheless sent to your law school admissions offices with the rest of the results and considered. Just because there's no numerical value assigned to it does not mean it has no impact.
The same can be said of your admissions essays (more commonly referred to as the personal statement). Whether you end up as a litigation lawyer or not, you will still need to be able to advocate effectively, and the personal statement shows admissions offices how well you advocate for your chief client - yourself. There are many ways to approach the personal statement, and Top-Law-Schools.com offers some top quality guidelines for doing so. The most important things to consider are your writing style and where you are currently sitting in terms of GPA and (if you have your scores) your LSAT. Some good approaches are to highlight your interest in the law and whatever relevant experience you might have in the field.
4. You Will Have a Law School Adviser. Use This Person.
On your lsac.org account, there will be a small section with the name and contact number of an individual designated as your law school adviser. This person is usually a law professor somewhere (mine happened to be one from the law school associated with my undergraduate campus). It is in your interest to contact this person. The adviser will be able to help you identify your problem areas on the LSAT before you go into it, look over your personal statements, and work through whatever other messiness may arise throughout the process. This person is there to help - make use of that.
5. Don't Stress Out Too Much.
Feeling a little anxious about the LSAT and admissions is probably healthy, but don't over-sweat it either. I know of people who literally burn out in the process. This does not help you. Remember to pace yourself. Start off early in preparation, but don't plan on doing eight-hour marathons daily. Law school will be hard enough without you killing yourself before you're even in the door.
I won't pretend that the law school admissions process is easy. But you can certainly take steps to make it easier on yourself and your family. Perhaps the last piece of advice I would offer is to not get discouraged. Thousands of people get into law school yearly - you will find the place for you out there. Not getting into your top choice will by no means determine how well you do in your legal education and career. You alone will decide that.
And being wait-listed isn't a death sentence for your chances, either - I'm proof of that.
Welcome to Last Law Student Standing! This blog is written by two California law students who are just beginning their legal education. In this blog we will share our experiences about law school, discuss how to survive the arduous process and share our thoughts on the law in general. We hope to update on a regular basis, assuming we are not buried alive under a pile of Torts homework (and if we were, we'd surely hope someone was negligent).
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I want to start with an anecdote from my orientation. After completing registration and shelling out hundreds of dollars for books I, along with a few dozen other first year students, took a tour of a Federal District Courthouse. I had assumed that we were simply getting a tour of the building - which admittedly was a bit more impressive than the county courthouse near my home town).
But when we arrived at the court house, we learned that we would be observing a live trial! Despite being immersed in the law almost 24/7, many law students don't see the inside of a court room until their second or third year.
Watching a trial live is nothing like reading it or watching it on TV. You can feel the tension in the air between the two sides. The plaintiff, an older man who worked for a major delivery corporation, was suing the company for economic losses. He alleges that after being injured, the company dismissed him and did not give him the rights that are guaranteed by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). The plaintiff's lawyer had called an economist to the stand to demonstrate how much the man lost.
To an observer, the economist's testimony was long and often dull. But observing the two parties was very revealing. The man stared straight ahead - he never glanced over at his former employer. The defense team looked distinguished in their fine suits.
Cross examination time. The defense lawyer appears cool and collected - he asks the economist whether he considered various scenarios, a tactic he hopes will show the jury that the economic losses are far less than what is suggested.
The testimony drags on. The judge calls a side bar conference and the lawyers dutifully march over. Interestingly, a buzzing noise seems to fill the room, which drowns out what the group is saying.
When it's all over, the plaintiff rests, and the court adjourns. The judge, an alumnus of my school, walked over to us and took questions from the audience. He had a lot of good things to say, and even a word of wisdom: "Some of you look pretty exhausted. You don't know what exhausted feels like...yet."
The whole courtroom episode taught a valuable lesson in itself. To borrow a phrase about the Internet: the law is serious business. The plaintiff has been injured and claims he needs help. The defense on the other hand says it can't compensate injured workers who have not followed the proper reporting procedures.
The law touches just about every aspect of our lives. To study it and understand it is a great honor, but perhaps also a burden. As lawyers, we have the power to make a person's life far better, or potentially miserable. But our journey, as the judge told us, is just about to begin.
