Last week was my first week of classes for the 2008-2009 academic year, and I was all ready to write a post called "The Most Important Day of Class." The whole premise was that the first day of class is the most important day of class for the whole term. But I didn't write that post, because I decided I was wrong.

The first day of class is not the most important day of class. The second day is.

Here's what I mean. The first day is important, because on that day the prof is likely to explain what the course is intended to be like. You're also likely to be treated to a lecture on why the course is the most important course you will ever take in law school, and perhaps your whole life. I'm exaggerating, but not overly so. This is called selling the course--and it happens not only in electives, but also in mandatory courses. I certainly do it. I think it helps students see where the course fits in the grand scheme of things, and it gives them a sense of what I think of the subject and why I am teaching it. And I do hope it generates a little excitement to get us all through the drier parts of the course. (And if you are in law school, you know some of it is dry.)

But that first class is often an anomoly. It's on the second day that students are more likely to get their first glimpse of a more average class--no calling of the roll, no grand views of the law. Instead, it's on to theory, doctrine, and the briefing of cases.

So for those of you in law school, pay close attention in those early days. And mark your calendars for class #2.

There was an interesting post on the Law Librarian Blog this week concerning the benefits of senior, junior, and adjunct faculty in the classroom. The post can be linked to here. This is a subject that interests me greatly, and readers will remember that I recently wrote a law review article (in the BYU Education and Law Journal) about junior faculty teaching. You can link to my full article here, and to my previous blog posts on the article here and here. The latter post includes an exchange with UCLA law professor Stephen Bainbridge.

The long and short of it is that this Law Librarian Blog post reviews some of the current scholarship on law faculty teaching by senior, junior, and adjunct professors and provides some interesting commentary on this scholarship. Most interesting, perhaps, is the blog's observation that there seems to be little academic literature on the benefits of senior faculty teaching. Personally, I think this is because the common wisdom in the legal academy is that senior faculty are better teachers all around, so why write about it? I disagree with this view, however--and if you are interested in seeing why, look at my BYU article.

Today's post is about the blog That's What She Said, on which blogger and attorney Julie Elgar discusses legal/HR issues raised by episodes of the US TV show The Office. Specifically, Elgar assigns a litigation value to various actions that occur on the show. I blogged about her blog briefly in a previous post.

Tonight (9/27/07) was the season premiere, which means that tomorrow morning (Friday) Elgar will post a blog entry about the episode. It's very interesting to see the show dissected for legal liability purposes. And the truth is that there are a lot of idiot bosses out there, so it's not a hypothetical exercise. One boss I know ordered his employees not to conjugate in the hallways. Seriously. In the same office, an internal office memo from the boss explained that security was being improved at the front door by installing a "security intercom buzzard." Again, no joke. Dilbert bosses are alive and well. So the idea of treating the scenarios on The Office as if they were real is a legitimate exercise. And fun, which is the most important thing.

I have added That's What She Said to my blogroll for those who are interested in checking it out on a regular basis.

On September 27, 2007, President Bush signed the College Cost Reduction and Access Act into law. I previously blogged about this very significant piece of legislation here and here. Several additional points come to mind about this legislation, so I am setting them out here.

First, the act does seem to address the problem of spiraling higher education costs in a fairly head-on manner. I should note that as Kiplinger's Personal Magazine reported in an article on 9/28/07, the act is being funded, at least in part, by reductions in federal subsidies to student loan companies. So that puts some of the bill sponsors' statements about this being "no-cost" legislation in better (and somewhat more accurate) perspective. (See my previous posts for more regarding that point.)

Second, while I think this act is a welcome development, it is worth pointing out that being in favor of education is sort of like being in favor of Mom and apple pie. People generally are not against education per se. So that explains much about the bill: popular subject + big problem = grand legislative solution. That's not a criticism; it's just an observation. Hopefully the impact of this new law will be positive and it will help many in need of student debt assistance. An Associated Press article that ran nationwide on 9/30/07 highlights the problem quite well.

Third, as astonishing as it may seem to people outside academia, tuition costs at most universities do not cover the cost of education. Does that help explain the rapidly rising cost of higher education in recent years? I think in large part it does. True, state colleges and universities receive state subsidies--but in many cases those subsidies have been reduced in recent years. Also, both private and public universities look to private donors for donations to build up their endowments, and those monies are used to fund school programs. And, of course, colleges and universities also obtain state and federal grant money for many of their programs.

But the fact remains that tuition increases are sometimes hard to resist. For example, what happens when a school has little endowment--or even rich endowments but still needs more capital? Neither situation is uncommon. If students are willing to pay more, and if the school is able to charge more (many states limit or cap public institution tuition rates by statute), then there is strong temptation for schools to raise tuition rates or tack on special fees. And it's a really tough choice, I think, because the students pay either way: either schools raise tuition, and students bear the brunt of it, or schools do not, and therefore cannot fund many much-needed educational programs. To give just one example, higher educational literature puts a great deal of focus on the importance of "active" learning (as opposed to passive lectures in big halls)--but active learning is often more expensive. So sometimes the choice might boil down to providing better and more costly education versus controlling costs at the expense of educational quality. Again, either way, it's the students who pay.

I fully realize, of course, that more money does not in all cases equal better education. Yet sometimes it does. And as schools offer more innovative programs like clinics and externships, focus on reducing faculty-student ratios, and invest in technology to make the classroom more interactive, someone has to foot the bill. The College Cost Reduction and Access Act hopefully means that students will foot less of it over time. But if it does not completely solve the problem--and I don't think it will--then we are back to the question of who pays. If rich donors come forth voluntarily, that's great, but there will be some institutions left out in the cold. If we decide to federally subsidize higher education that might be great too, but it also likely would be fraught with problems.

Like any good (bad?) law professor, I am doing a far better job of posing questions and framing issues than I am of offering answers. For me, at least right now, the answers are unclear. What is clear, however, is that in today's information economy, education is of paramount importance for the nation's economic well-being. Reducing the debt burden of students is an investment worth making.

PS: Education is a service, and I blogged about the rapidly rising cost of services last year in two posts on the subject of Baumol's Cost Disease (here and here). Those discussions are relevant to this topic too for those who are interested. The gist of Baumol's Cost Disease is that the cost of services often rises faster than the overall rate of inflation, because while we can automate many processes or make them more efficient--and thus hold the price (and rate of inflation) down--it's harder to automate certain services like teaching. Which from a purely self-interested point of view is not necessarily a bad thing.

Self-promotion is not something that always comes naturally to me, and this post smacks of patting my own back. But it involves something I am very pleased about, so bear with me.

One of the blogs on my blogroll is Adams Drafting, on which Ken Adams blogs about "modern and effective contract drafting." I teach Contracts, and I think his blog is a very good source of practical advice on recent developments in contract law. It also has a strong intellectual edge, and I like that.

On October 7, 2007, Ken wrote a post entitled My, Uh, Nine Favorite Law Blogs. (Kudos to him for resisting the round number of ten.) I'm very happy to say that Law Career Blog made the list. Ken explained that he reads my blog because he is "acutely aware of the difficulties that junior associates face when it comes to contract drafting. Perhaps as a result, I’ll happily read thoughtful discussion of issues facing law students and junior associates generally. And that’s what [Law Career Blog] offers."

I must say that I am quite flattered to be on his list. My target audience for Law Career Blog consists of law students, people thinking about attending law school, junior practitioners and people thinking about law career changes, and anyone generally concerned about any of these groups. So to my way of thinking, my inclusion on this list suggests that Law Career Blog is hitting its target audience, or at least not missing it entirely. And that is a victory worth celebrating.

In other news related to contracts, I have declared a "computer-free week" in my Contracts class--something I have blogged about previously and considered doing. I plan to post tomorrow on that subject.

This past week was an interesting one for me--a study in contrasts. In my 1L class we had a computer-free week, which was something different (and not necessarily popular--more on that in my next post). Outside the classroom, I participated in two very different events that struck deep chords in me, and they are the subjects of this post.

The first event took place the evening of Thursday, October 11, 2007, at the Loyola University New Orleans College of Law. I spoke there as part of a panel of international law and international trade practitioners and scholars. The panel addressed the subject of international law career options. Other members of the panel included Loyola NO alumns and other practitioners, including Tom Morante of Jones Walker in Miami, as well as Professor Günther Handl of Tulane University Law School and Professor Larry Catá Backer of Penn State's Dickinson School of Law (currently visiting at Tulane). (Check out Professor Catá Backer's excellent blog, Law at the End of the Day, and his "About Me" page.) This panel, entitled Jus Gentium ("the law of nations"), was hosted by Loyola NO's newly re-formed student International Law Society (the society fell by the wayside after Hurricane Katrina).

As I listened to questions posed by the very diverse and accomplished students in the audience, and to the answers and comments from other members of the panel, I was struck by how extraordinarily complex, nuanced and rich the field of international law practice is. I know this, of course, and yet I still find myself moved by it. The feeling flashed me back to occasions in my law practice when I would be struck unexpectedly--and quite hard--by how rarified the intellectual atmosphere was where I worked.

The second event took place the very next night in Jackson, Mississippi. It was the Mississippi Center for Justice's 2007 Champions of Justice Dinner, and I was in attendance as the faculty adviser for Mississippi College School of Law's student Public Interest Law Group. The dinner drew public interest attorneys and supporters from all over Mississippi, and indeed the nation; from public interest organizations involved in Mississippi (much of it being post-Katrina relief work); from law schools (including Mississippi College School of Law and the University of Mississippi School of Law); and from law firms. The dinner was in honor of two strong contributors to public interest and social justice in Mississippi:

Professor Deborah H. Bell of the University of Mississippi School of Law, who runs that school's well-respected Civil Legal Clinic. The clinic has been particularly active since Hurricane Katrina, and Professor Bell was honored for her many contributions to public interest law in the state.

Hon. Rueben V. Anderson, who was the first African-American to graduate from the University of Mississippi School of Law and was Mississippi's first African-American Supreme Court justice. The program for the dinner aptly noted that while Justice Anderson "has been called a witness to history, [ ] his true role has been as a maker of history."

The dinner also featured an excellent slide show on the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and the many legal and personal challenges faced by the storm's survivors on the coast and elsewhere.

I think the Champions of Justice Dinner was moving for everyone, but for me the contrast between the themes of this event and the Loyola NO forum could not have been starker. On Thursday, I was discussing the richness and complexity of international legal practice. On Friday I was talking about people who need help getting legal representation to obtain enough food stamps. Quite the contrast.

Obviously, the contrast between these two events is a good reminder of why it is so important for lawyers to do some public service work, no matter what they do in practice. It keeps us grounded, and it gives us better perspective on the law and our legal practices. But it also served to remind me, again, of the importance of doing things in your career that you believe in.

I believe in the richness and the potential of international law. Globalization has its perils, but it also has its enormous upsides, and we are in need of responsible, dedicated lawyers who believe in what they are doing, and why. It's global service, if you will, and if that sounds quixotic or overly idealistic, so be it.

I also believe in the importance of local service. There are many, many people who need our help as lawyers, and there are many ways to get involved. And even for overly busy people, it is quite possible that taking on even more obligations of this sort can be a way to soothe the soul, not aggravate it. A way to meaningfully give back of our talents.

So for me, the global and local activities I am involved in are the best of two very different worlds. They are a study in contrasts, but when juxtaposed as they were last week, they fit together quite well.

I have received some very interesting comments in response to my recent Computer-Free Week post. (Look for them at the end of that post.) The general gist of most of the comments is that some people find it disconcerting not to be able to take notes by computer in class. Some are not used to writing by hand in class and feel lost without their computers. So they think computer bans generally are a bad idea.

I sympathize with that view. A lot, actually—notwithstanding that I am the one who did not allow computers in class last week. Which is why this week in my class we will start with a recap of last week’s materials.

I also have sympathy for (and agree with, in many ways) the libertarian view of computers in the classroom—that what a student wants to do is largely the student’s decision, and if the decision hurts that student’s performance and/or grade, then that is that student’s problem. Yet I do not agree when such libertarianism interferes with other students’ learning by distracting them, or by reducing the quality of classroom discussion (which is part of the educational process). And I believe both sorts of interference occur regularly.

But let's sidestep that issue for a moment and just talk about computer use that does not interfere with others’ learning. In other words, let's assume, for sake of argument, that computer use only hurts (or helps) those who engage in it, without harming others in the class. What then?

One of the commenters to my previous post made the very astute observation that professors sometimes have an “I must save them from themselves” attitude toward their students, especially in 1L classes. This is often characterized as misguided paternalism, and things like computer bans and other rules are derided as autocratic. I concede that this may well be the case, but I also think that sometimes such guidance, paternalistic though it may be, is justified and even desirable.

Think of it this way: the professors are there to teach, and even the most junior professors have more practical and academic experience in the law than their students. Maybe, just maybe, some of the paternalism is warranted. Maybe sometimes students do need to be "saved from themselves," as negative as the connotation of that phrase may be. And if I have a choice between erring on the side of being too blunt (or even paternalistic) in the classroom versus not making a very important point, I'll choose the former error over the latter.

That same commenter also made the following very interesting statement that is worth discussing further:

“If I am made to come to class by the ABA (and subsequently the school) and choose to spend my time unproductively, my $2300 per class buys me that right. If I don't want to participate or think "fantasy" football statistics are more interesting, the only person hurt in the long run is me. And that is what most would call an adult decision.”

Hmm. On the one hand, I do understand and to an extent sympathize with this statement. And let me very clearly state (at the risk of sounding paternalistic, I suppose) that I very much appreciate both the substantive nature and professional tone of that comment. Seriously--read the whole comment at the end of my previous post. This blog is, after all, a dialogue, and I appreciate well-drafted and well thought-through input. I learn from it. But on the other hand I disagree with this statement fairly strongly, and from a number of angles. Here's why.

Neither the ABA nor your law school makes you come to law school. Yes, there are ground rules if you choose to attend a law school and be a lawyer, and class attendance is generally one of them. But law school is not junior high; you are not legally obligated to be there.

Law school is not a consumer product. There is a “consumerist” mentality common amongst current higher education students, and it is troubling to many in the teaching profession. Having said that, many in higher education also take this view--and schools certainly compete for students--but that is problematic too (and a good subject for a future post).

According to the consumerist student view, colleges and universities are largely institutions of credentialization, not of learning. I think many students subconsciously buy into this presumption without thinking too much about it, because in a way it is very attractive. A consumerist student naturally seeks to do the minimum necessary to obtain the degree. While I think efficiency is valuable—and I think the workload in law school helps teach efficiency to an extent—if a student is only (or primarily) looking for a degree, that serves to disengage the student from the educational process. A student might say, Well, I will come to class because I am required to, but I am not going to pay much attention if it does not engage me more than the Internet. But of course, the Internet is always going to be more interesting than, say, subject matter jurisdiction, or expectancy interest, or proximate cause.

The result is less attention paid, and less learned, and a lesser lawyer on the outflow end of the educational pipe. On the one hand, what was not deeply learned may have no negative impact. On the other hand, you never know when knowledge will come in handy. I was constantly amazed in practice by how arcane points from class ended up being a relevant way to make myself stand out from the pack—be it in researching an issue, writing a memo, or talking with clients at a cocktail party. Arcane knowledge can be a great conversation piece; you never know what people are going to be interested in.

Law school is not primarily entertainment. This is closely related to the previous point. Material that is technical, and sometimes boring—like economics, or accounting, or contract law—does not compete well with other distractions, as I already have said. The appropriate standard for deciding whether to pay attention in class is not necessarily whether the material is more interesting than your e-mail account, fantasy football, online shopping, or a crossword puzzle. I am not saying that teachers have a license to be boring; indeed, they have an obligation to teaching engagingly. I am also not suggesting that teachers should ban computers because the class material is hard. What I am saying is that “Class v. Internet” is a comparison of apples to oranges. And while it may seem objective on the surface, the result is preordained.

Your tuition buys you the right to do whatever you want in class, at least as long as you don’t distract others. I have a strong libertarian bent, and generally speaking I agree that if someone chooses not to pay attention in my class that is less of a concern than if she or he is distracting others. But the proper characterization is that this student has the power to do what she or he wants, not the right. Your qualifications and tuition dollars buy you the privilege of attending law school to obtain an education and a degree—which is a very different thing than buying the right to come to class and discretely do whatever you like.

Plus, in my class the syllabus expressly prohibits non-class use of computers in class. So it's part of the contract you have agreed to, if you will. So in that sense too, it's a power, not a right.

I will end with two observations. First, current educational research suggests that there is a difference between multitaskers in class (with computers) and those without computers. Repetitive tasks and memorization can be accomplished well when multitasking. But deep cognitive thinking appears to be hampered by computerized multitasking. A student surfing the web during class may simultaneously win the online fantasy football league and memorize the basics of restitution in contract law, but that student is less likely to see and grasp the subtle connections between, say, expectation damages, specific performance, and service contracts. Not that this alone justifies a computer ban in class. But it does suggest that the libertarian computer user in class is taking a greater risk than might be supposed.

Second, my week-long computer holiday in class was an experiment that I think was useful on several levels, notwithstanding that it probably cost me some popularity or goodwill points with some students. For any readers in my class—any readers anywhere, for that matter—bear in mind that teaching is a creative process. (And not a popularity contest.) If there is no experimentation, teaching is stagnant and does not grow or improve. There will be people who think the ban was helpful, some who think the ban was not, and others who are indifferent. That’s fine, and in fact good—there should be dialogue on these subjects, because there is no easy or absolute answer. But there are multiple viewpoints to be considered and weighed.

Just like in my classes. And just like on this blog, as the comments to my posts so helpfully show.