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BETTER THINKING:
THINKING LIKE A LAWYER
Judith Wegner*
Thank you for being here. We have such an important set of
questions to consider. IVe been a law professor since 1981, and
whenever I can, I have integrated writing into my efforts to teach
thinking and problem solving. My job today is to talk with you
about the work IVe been doing as part of a major study of legal
education for the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of
Teaching.
My effort today is to pursue the question of thinking the
teaching of thinking and how we might conceptualize that theoretically. I'd like to talk about are three things. First, what is
thinking like a lawyer? Some of you have written about, some of
you have thought about, and Fm sure all of us who are lawyers
have experienced some effort by somebody to help us learn about
that. So, Fm going to say a little bit, based on the empirical work I
did with the Carnegie Foundation, about what various people
across the country might have to say about thinking like a lawyer
some interesting things, I believe. Second, how do we teach
"thinking" in what I call the standard first-year curriculum, the
large "stand-up" classes, the typical kind of baseline substantive
courses that all of us have experienced and that our students
spend the bulk of their time on? Finally, I want to say a bit that
might catalyze our thinking about how these pieces interrelate.
Briefly, the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of
Teaching is not a group that merely gives away money. It is a
group that was chartered by Congress in 1905 with funding initially from Andrew Carnegie to do all things needful that would
advance teaching. They're the folks we have to thank for creating
TIAA-CREF, the Educational Testing Service, the Carnegie units
for high schools that have been used to figure out when folks can
come into college a whole variety of things like that. Back in its
early formative time, the earlier part of the twentieth century, the
Foundation conducted a series of studies, the most famous of
which is called the Flexner Report, which led to or contributed to a
* Professor, University of North Carolina School of Law. Professor Wegner served as
Dean of the University of North Carolina School of Law from 1989 to 1999.
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major shift in how medical education proceeded, really implementing a model much more like the European model, as was being
created by Johns Hopkins at that time. The Foundation also had
two studies, one by Josef Redlich and one by Alfred Z. Reed, at
about the same time on legal education, but these studies were not
instrumental in bringing about much change. The Foundation also
studied engineering, social work, and a variety of other things.1
That was back in their earlier life. The Foundation is now revisiting some of these major issues, but in a wholly different way. The
Foundation sees that the professions are a central place in which
the academy meets the world at large and that, if you could really
understand education and preparation for the professions, you'd be
able to make a difference to society and improve higher education
as well.
Thus, the current approach is quite different from the initial
approach. The Foundation is taking a deliberately comparative
viewpoint so that the questions being framed for law, which was
the first of a series of studies, are tracked by the studies of engineering education and the study of preparation for the clergy that
are currently underway. The Foundation has tried to ask comparative questions that can illuminate the heart of the professions and
professional education in ways that allow comparison and contrast, in order to hold mirrors up to ourselves to realize, what, in
fact, we're doing or might do, and to be able to exchange insights
across these different fields in quite fruitful ways.
The law study was the first one out of the box. It is an effort to
step back and take a serious look at what we really do, what we're
about. The first question I thought was important to ask was:
What is this business of thinking like a lawyer? How is it taught?
How is it assessed? I realized the more I worked on it, partly because I was working with someone who's a philosopher, that at
root, we're talking about epistemology that is, our individual
theories of what it means to know. I can't tell you how powerful
and profound that is when you really get down to it. I'm not going
to try to take you through all aspects of it, but just think about
that. Coming into law school, students have generally not articulated their personal theories, but they have implicit theories, as we
all do, theories of what it means to know. Generally such theories
are not disclosed, probably even if they've taken philosophy
courses, and are not really understood. What we do when we teach
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UNCERTAINTY
What does it mean to "think" or "reason"?
* Posing Questions
* Developing a Routine
* Reconstructing Knowledge
The top point of the triangle is: "What does it mean to 'think'?"
You can always push things back if you study science and try to
say that thinking is really neurological, or thinking is really something about neurons doing one thing or another, but as we use it in
2
Sue Hubbell, Shrinking the Cat: Generic Engineering before We Knew about Genes
(Houghton Mifflin Co. 2001).
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Modeling
Coaching
Scaffolding
Fading
Dialogue
v
Intellectual Tasks (Cases):
Knowledge
Comprehension
Analysis
Application
Synthesis
Evaluation
Student
(novice, who
doesn't know, has
partial knowledge,
unstated misunderstanding)
Reflects
Articulates
Explores
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closely so that they learn that they need knowledge of exact facts.
They need understanding, and to understand, they need to analyze
to take ideas and rules apart.
Law professors also expect students in class to develop the
ability to apply the law to novel fact patterns we make up in our
heads or assign from the casebook notes. Unfortunately, we don't
often give students classroom experience with complicated application. We work some with synthesis, particularly in its simple form,
calling on students to explain how a given case relates to another
or providing them with a comprehensive unit-end review. Evaluation occurs, but seems oddly constrained. There's discussion about
efficiency in some instances, and about certainty and the virtues of
bright lines and balancing tests. Rarely, however, is there discussion of justice.
Stepping back from what may be observed in the classroom, it
is also important to think about how we assess student performance on exams. Although faculty in many classrooms dwell on
comprehension, analysis, and simple application and synthesis,
that's not all that we evaluate. Most essay examinations require
complicated application, complicated synthesis, and complicated
evaluation, and we don't teach that nearly enough. While there is
not time to explore issues of assessment here, we need to bear in
mind that students who enter our classrooms with high-level cognitive skills that they understand how to translate into a new context may thrive at least at the outset and outdistance the performance of their peers. Others can take a little bit longer to master
either the higher-level intellectual tasks themselves, particularly
if their prior education did not concentrate on their development,
or if they're unsure how to translate prior experience into the law
school setting. That's something we need to think about in "thinking like lawyers"; think about law school assessment systems and
their impact.
Now let me return to the "dialogue" part of our "case-dialogue
method." Some of you may have heard of the notion of "cognitive
apprenticeship," which I'll try to sketch very simply here. It's a
fascinating theory. Think about apprenticeship what goes on in
an apprenticeship and why is this notion so pervasive? Sociologists
have studied apprenticeship for midwives, tailors, chess players,
you name it. I don't know if you've ever learned something where
you really sat down at the feet of, for example, your grandmother,
to learn how to make bread. Different people learn how to ride a
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bike or play a sport this way. Junior faculty can count themselves
lucky if a senior colleague helps us get on our feet as scholars.
Most of the examples I've just provided are relatively tangible.
Consider, instead, how we work with students who are apprentice
lawyer-thinkers. We take students through the process of analytical problem-solving using certain set conventions. We're working
with them as apprentices in a very challenging setting, typically in
extremely large classes, rather t h a n individually, as many of you
do in teaching legal writing.
Consider what's going on in the typical professor's head during a large first-year class. Often, much of our own thinking is not
self-conscious: we're experts, we have tacit knowledge, knowledge
we may not even know we have both about the law and about
teaching. Students don't like that, because they're uncertain, and
we're asking them questions. What's going on in the professor's
mind is invisible and involves complex processes. How do we teach
them how to do what we do? We model the analysis we're seeking,
do it right in front of them, or give positive comments to those in
the class who do well when called upon. We also "coach" them, give
them hints, break down questions into more subtle nuances, try to
get them to move from one step to the next, and give them encouragement. We also "scaffold" for them, and try to build the framework and then gradually fade away to let them do it on their own.
Scaffolding may take the form of diagrams or lists on the blackboard, or orally an oral connecting of the dots.
We're not alone in this dialogue, however. The student, who's
a novice, generally doesn't know what he or she doesn't understand, at least at the outset. If you've been teaching for a long
time, you understand t h a t better. You can guess by the light in
their eyes. You call on students to speak it, and set for them several key tasks designed to make their own thinking visible so you
can work with it. You ask them to articulate what they're thinking, or perhaps to stop and reflect on what they or someone else
has said. ("Do you agree, Mr. Jones? Why/why not?") After they've
spent time working with the basics, you ask one or more students
to explore variations on fact patterns, engage in critique, or shift
roles (to stand in the shoes of a different party, the trial judge, the
dissenters, the legislature). That's really what we do in the classroom.
The case-dialogue method is thus exceedingly powerful, in
part because it combines these two aspects use of cases to move
across the spectrum of intellectual tasks and cognitive apprentice-
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ship that calls on both teacher and student to make thinking visible. Bear in mind, however, that this system creates a powerful
kind of hierarchy, at least when the bulk of classes taught by tenure-track faculty, with the bulk of academic credit, are perceived
by students as the accepted norm.
Legal writing instructors build on the instructional efforts to
teach "thinking like a lawyer" in stand-up classrooms, but face an
additional challenge since most legal writing courses involve work
on an individualized basis using a different type of pedagogy. Perhaps in the latter context, the premiere pedagogy is more akin to
that in engineering (whose signature pedagogy is probably the "design laboratory") or medicine (which devotes more time to clinical
pedagogy). Moreover, the epistemology and type of reasoning that
underlies "thinking like a lawyer" is not the only way of knowing.
Indeed, if we were more attentive to such matters, we might recognize the hidden nuances that differentiate "thinking like a corporate lawyer" from "thinking like a criminal lawyer."
Those teaching legal writing must also contend with the seeming dichotomy of theory and practice, something that profoundly
affects the academy as a whole. Without going into it at length,
you know from your experience that university faculty typically
say "there's theory, and that's preferred and there's practice, and
we look down on that." This dichotomy is flawed for many reasons.
It's helpful to go back to basics with the Greek philosophers, some
of whom thought there really are three kinds of reasoning: theory
that is book learning, abstract, and discursive (much of what goes
on in the first year); production (the creative process used in making artifacts, which requires technical skill); and practical reasoning (taking on an ill-defined question or problem, taking it apart
and resolving it). That's what practice means to many, but in academia too often practice is treated as if it means something else:
repetition, the mundane, the stuff of the nonacademic world from
which academics have escaped. But even in the academy, faculty
engage in "practice," for example, the practice of scholarship,
whereby we rely on underlying theoretical understandings and
create a "product" that seeks to resolve an ill-defined problem.
In closing, let me summarize key points that I hope will
stimulate your further reflection. "Thinking like a lawyer" entails
a particular epistemology or way of knowing that most students
(and indeed many faculty) do not name or understand. Such thinking involves working with and domesticating uncertainty regarding the particular types of reasoning, the nature of law, and the
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