© 1998 by Washington University

The Law Quarterly's invitation to the faculty indicated that this essay could be about almost anything. I began another article on the rule against perpetuities, but I soon stopped. That piece could wait; after all, they said the essay could be about "almost anything." I am a very senior member of our faculty--this is my thirty-fifth year at the Washington University School of Law. Seniority is supposed to bring privileges, and among them is the opportunity to reflect on the past, present, and future. Best of all, there is the opportunity to grouse, grumble, and forewarn.^[1]

This issue celebrates our new building--a building for a new century.^[2] For me and several other members of the faculty it is our second new building at Washington University.^[3] For those who have had to live through the era of Mudd Hall, Anheuser-Busch Hall is a dream come true. Our new facility looks great and feels great. It promotes learning and scholarship, but it also enlivens and enriches the spirits of those who make it their professional home. Indeed, this change to a new building warrants both comment and celebration.

There have been other significant changes during the past thirty-five years that one must note and punctuate with pride. The student body is three times larger and much more diverse in terms of geography, race, gender, and background.^[4] The entering credentials of these students also suggest that they are more talented and accomplished.^[5] The same might be said of the faculty. It is also three times larger and much more diverse. In particular, over thirty percent of the faculty are women^[6] and just under ten percent are African-(American).^[7] Young faculty come to us with outstanding records from outstanding law schools, with experience enriched by clerkships, practice, and sometimes prior teaching.^[8] Their scholarship is innovative, thoughtful, provocative, and very frequent.^[9] And as an entire faculty, our articles, books, and treatises compare favorably with other law schools throughout this country.^[10]

There is more. The Washington University School of Law offers several advanced degrees.^[11] It also offers joint degree programs with eight other departments, such as East Asian Studies, business administration, health administration, social work, and engineering and policy.^[12] The curriculum of today is also larger and more diverse; indeed, it would be virtually unrecognizable for graduates of the sixties and early seventies.^[13] To be sure, the faculty is larger so there should be more course offerings, but the curriculum is also fuller and richer than before. For example, to reflect the problems and challenges of the future, we now have courses and seminars on Asian Law, Japanese Law, European Community Law, Socialist Law in Transition, Comparative Employment Rights, Aliens and the Law, Secrecy Whistle-Blowing and Leaking, Corporate White Collar Crime, Health Law, Environmental Law, and Intellectual Property. Further, to reflect the importance of "applied lawyering skills," we now offer several courses that pertain to planning and drafting as well as courses or seminars on Alternative Dispute Resolution, Pretrial Practice, Trial Practice, and Business Reorganization.^[14] And to create a practicum experience, we offer in most years the Urban Law Clinic, Federal Criminal Prosecution Clinic, Federal Civil Litigation Clinic, Public Interest Lawyering Clinic, Congressional Clinic, and Federal Administrative Agency Clinic.^[15] Years ago, we had one law review and one moot court program. Today, we have two major law reviews, three moot court programs and competitions, a mock trial competition, a negotiation competition, and a client-counseling competition.^[16]

These are, however, not the only changes that have occurred during the last thirty-five years.^[17] Further, there are other changes that seem imminent as one looks to the future.^[18] We are on the doorstep of the millennium; already we have a building well suited to the twenty-first century. And with this, there may be a tendency to leave all that is old behind. But is this entirely good? I want to give my two cents worth, so here it is.

In 1963 the Washington University School of Law stood for commitment to teaching and education. Teachers and students alike entered each class prepared for rigorous dialogue that honed skills that would last a professional lifetime. Some faculty relied heavily upon the socratic method, but some supplied strong doses of lecture. Common to both, however, was a recognition that teaching only begins in the classroom. Inevitably, it would spill over to Holmes Lounge and then to individual offices. Our mission was to teach.^[19] And to do this we had to engage students intellectually. This was a very personal and gratifying experience--once again for students and teachers alike.

Our classes were very small. First-year courses were offered with two sections of forty students in each, and elective courses typically had enrollments of fewer than twenty students. The curriculum was thin, but there were three years of writing requirements.^[20] The final requirement was a seminar. Actually it was one-on-one supervised instruction with respect to research and writing. Those who were on Law Quarterly were exempt. Those who were not had a law review experience reproduced under the direct supervision of a full-time faculty member. The objective for each student was to produce a major paper of publishable quality. Nearly all students accomplished exactly that. And along the way faculty and student friendships were forged.^[21]

This mutual commitment--this culture--was a tradition. I like to think it was unique. I do know this much: it was unlike my own law school and the law school where I served as an instructor before I came to the Washington University School of Law.^[22] The uniqueness was also confirmed by students who transferred to or did graduate work at other law schools and by pre-law advisors who recognized something special at Washington University.^[23] Although the pedigree of schools ranked higher than us may have offered instant recognition and opportunity, our graduates soon discovered that no school could compete with the education they had received.

The era of Mudd Hall commenced in 1971 and initiated a decade of change. Indeed, most of the changes described previously were hatched during that period of time.^[24] And with these changes there were often subtle pressures to forego our commitment to teaching and accessibility.^[25] Although the building was a disaster, our efforts at preserving this tradition were not. Commentators on law schools noted this commitment and ranked us number one in that regard.^[26] The average size of course enrollments increased during the seventies, but so did the mutual commitment of faculty and students to high quality education. One could attribute this in part to senior faculty who zealously fought to preserve their tradition. But there was also considerable self-selection among new faculty who cherished these same goals and sought an institution that served them. The tradition that was conceived and nurtured in January Hall blossomed in Mudd Hall. Nevertheless, one must take note that, as we enter Anheuser-Busch Hall and the twenty-first century, there are severe storm warnings that threaten the quality of our product and even the foundation of our rich tradition.

In 1997, the law school offers better writing experiences than ever before. We have an intensive first-year program that uses the full time of four faculty members.^[27] Further, during the second two years of law school we have a seminar requirement that features a significant writing component.^[28] Although there is only one seminar requirement, students can and do involve themselves in more than one writing experience. These additional experiences might include an additional seminar, faculty supervised research and writing, one of the law journals, or moot court. With this training, one might ask: do students of the nineties write better or at least as well as students of the sixties and seventies? The answer is: no, they do not even write as well!^[29] And this includes all components of a good paper--research, organization, logic, and clarity of expression.^[30]

Why? With better entering credentials and better law school training, how can this be? One of my retired colleagues^[31] facetiously blames it on the "Xerox Machine." In truth, however, he may be on to something. Today students conduct their research by finding, reproducing, and arranging duplicated cases, statutes, and other resource materials. Many students make no real attempt to analyze, digest, or synthesize these materials prior to writing the paper itself. Although this system allows more cases to be collected in less time, the product that ultimately emerges may be less thoughtful.

Ongoing synthesis of materials requires forethought and judgment as one proceeds through a search. Some materials stand out as central and essential, but others may be quickly discarded. The "Xeroxing System" presents a pile of materials at crunch time without prior discrimination. This can result in a final resource and discussion base with too little--through the exclusion of materials that are relevant--or it can present a base with too much--through the inclusion of materials that are unnecessary. Further, the "Xeroxing System" tends to condense "think time," while the digesting system spreads it out. The process of critical thought takes time. Sound organization, logical and persuasive progression, and creativity cannot be beckoned upon a moment's notice.^[32]

From time-to-time, however, I am inclined to blame the decline in research skills on computerized research. In this regard, I blame the user and not the instrument. Computerized research clearly can produce more information than before, and it can accomplish this almost instantaneously. Nevertheless, it does have its limitations. Today's law students have been raised on computers. They depend upon them for work and often for play. Indeed, they are more comfortable before a computer than a book.^[33] Consequently, many will conduct their research exclusively with the computer despite clear warning that its resource base is limited and, therefore, that it will not comprehend all potential authorities. This total reliance on computerized research produces a research base that is flawed and ultimately deficient. Additionally, because students conduct much of their computerized research through key words and phrases, their collection of materials is often too large or too small--indeed, sometimes they find nothing at all. Frequently, the collection is too large because there are hundreds of cases that use or refer to the specific research terminology without regard to its importance to the case or the rulings within it. Conversely, the key word or phrase may yield too little because such language reflects an idea or concept that has not been reduced to specific language formats that are often repeated.^[34]

One cannot, however, blame everything upon the "Xerox Machine" or the computer. In all probability, current law students do not write as well as they did thirty years ago because of inexperience. In short, the decline cannot be attributed entirely to technology or to what law schools are doing or not doing. Mainly it has to do with a student's previous education--in particular college education. Over the years the Washington University School of Law has included two questions in its application that are not used for admissions purposes. Instead we include them to track the writing experience of students at their respective colleges. These questions ask: in which courses the student had a timed essay test and in which courses the student had a substantial amount of writing. Unbelievably, all too often we will see answers that say none for both questions.^[35] Even more unbelievable, we have seen history and political science majors from highly regarded universities who provide us with answers that say: two and two.^[36] And they are the same two courses! These answers are not aberrations. This much is clear: writing requirements and writing experience in undergraduate programs have declined precipitously, although not uniformly.^[37]

To be sure, experience with timed essay tests may not prepare one to write better, but it does prepare college students for the essay tests they are likely to encounter in law school. More important, however, term papers in college courses--even those without research components--do produce better written work over time. The more one writes the better one gets, especially if each experience is accompanied by thoughtful scrutiny and feedback. Even today, students who come from colleges that create writing experiences in nearly every course do better in law school.^[38] And I am convinced that these same students ultimately do better in practice.

The reason for the decline of writing in college probably has something to do with efficiency and economy in higher education. College costs have gone up dramatically in the last thirty years, and these costs have been met with larger enrollments and higher tuitions. A writing component that requires feedback from teachers is very time intensive.^[39] With larger course enrollments, universities and teachers must struggle to find that critical resource. Colleges must either find more teachers, which they cannot afford, or teachers must allocate more time, which they cannot create. Multiple choice tests are more efficient than essay tests and far more efficient than term papers. Because of this, it is no surprise that multiple choice now dominates testing methodologies.^[40] Mass-produced education has required many changes and the virtual disappearance of the term paper or thesis constitutes one of these important changes.

The search for an explanation for the decline is useful; however, the assignment of blame and attempts to shift responsibility are not. Law schools cannot redirect the course of college education. Even if we could, one could not await such redirection. We can, however, redouble our efforts. The problem is serious and immediate. Whatever the reason, the writing skills of the people we graduate are declining and many might view them as inadequate.^[41] For the lawyer, there is nothing more important than the written word.^[42] Lawyers write constantly. They draft letters, contracts, wills, trusts, complaints, motions, memoranda, and briefs. These documents must be clear, precise, comprehensive, accurate, organized, logical, and persuasive. No practitioner ever escapes the written word. And there is no evidence that things will be different during the twenty-first century.^[43] Whatever the cause, the decline in writing skills presents a very serious problem for the profession. But we are the training ground for the profession; so it is our problem and our mission to find a solution.

What can be done? To begin with, one must recognize that the problem is soluble; indeed, there are many different kinds of solutions. For example, many schools now have first-year writing programs taught by full time faculty, who are sometimes tenured but most often are not.^[44] One could expand these programs so that they continue the intensive writing experience for the full three years. The training could be progressive. First-year programs often concentrate on legal memoranda and briefs. Second and third year programs could concentrate on other kinds of writing such as leases, contracts, statutes, and advisory opinions and letters. Or instead of extended writing programs modeled after the first-year experience, one might simply impose or increase writing requirements for the second and third years of law school. For example, two or three seminars might be required instead of one. Additionally, a school might require enrollment in one or more planning and drafting courses,^[45] or in litigation-related courses with a significant written component.

One thing, however, is clear. Because writing instruction is labor and time intensive, these additional experiences will bear a heavy cost. Expanded legal writing programs taught by full-time faculty will require additional faculty resources or reassignment of existing faculty to these programs. Expanded seminar and planning and drafting requirements could be accomplished with additional faculty. More than likely, however, it will be achieved through reassignment and, therefore, the elimination of some courses. Or it might be achieved through conversion of existing courses into seminars whose enrollments will necessarily be limited.^[46] Either way there will be many students who lose out on a subject area they want. Either way there will be a significant cost.

Given the pressure to stabilize tuition and therefore to hold down costs,^[47] the probable solution will produce a downsizing of curricular choice and opportunities for specialization. These consequences will not be popular at a time in which the profession is moving rapidly in the direction of specialization and law school curricula are mirroring that trend.^[48] Most of all, the solution and its consequences will be difficult to sell to prospective students and sometimes even to the bar.^[49] It may also be difficult to sell to alumni who are asked to support it through annual gifts. Information and the courses needed to provide it are "in."^[50] Intensive skill courses, especially those that purport to teach students something they believe they already have, are "out."^[51] The problem and the dilemma this trend creates are real, and the Washington University School of Law must address them if we are to remain true to our tradition and mission of excellence in education. We must swim upstream and be in the vanguard of schools that know the universal and eternal importance of the written word and are truly committed to teaching the skills needed to observe it.

This leads me to my next storm warning, something even more important and something connected again to the appeal of economy and efficiency. During the past academic year, we interviewed an entry level candidate to teach at this law school. His academic record was impeccable. He already had earned both a Ph.D. and a J.D., both from prestigious schools that everyone would rank in the top ten, and he had some previous teaching experience in a non-law school setting. Additionally, he had a record of excellent publications and an agenda for future work that was equally impressive. He was asked about teaching and here are some of his views.

To begin with, although he saw some merit in the socratic method when conducted without abuse, he would opt for lecture because it was the most efficient way to pass on information. And information and its comprehension were at the core of what he wanted to pass on to his students.

Additionally, he said that the first thing he would do when beginning his work as a law teacher would be to produce his own Web Site. Quite simply, this was the most efficient method for answering student questions. Many students would have the same question, and this was a way for each student to question him and for him to reach everyone at once. It was also an efficient method for interacting with students. He could respond from his office or home at any time and this was far more efficient than office hours or certainly an open door. Using the web site would enable him ultimately to trade office hours for research and writing. We did not make him an offer, but I am still concerned because his views about legal education are, in one form or another, becoming more and more prevalent.^[52] I am deeply troubled because these views threaten not only the tradition and excellence of this law school, but because they threaten the very core of legal education. Indeed, they threaten the very things that make legal education different and better.

Lawyers are first and foremost problems solvers.^[53] The solutions to problems require information; more importantly, however, they require analytic skills. These are the skills that distinguish lawyers from other professionals and often enable them to solve problems that transcend the law itself.^[54] These skills are really what legal education is and must be about. To be sure, solutions to problems depend upon the application of rules. Without command of these rules, a lawyer is unable to forge a solution and perhaps unable even to recognize the problem. Rules are important, but they change over time--sometimes slowly, sometimes overnight. One must expect change during the course of a professional lifetime.

The one constant from law school, however, are skills. These are the skills that enable a lawyer to elicit the story (the facts), to identify within the story relevant problems and issues, to discover and master rules and principles that may affect these problems and issues, and to develop a strategy or solution that reflects what the lawyer thinks is the law, might be the law, and should be the law. These skills will always transcend information that is transitory. They distinguish the craft and therefore are at its core. Consequently, they must be central to the mission of legal education.

How then do teachers impart these critical skills to students? Students read a case and their teacher asks them to state the issue. The teacher or the course book may also present a problem or a hypothetical and again ask students to identify the issue or, often, issues. Sometimes the court will recite the issue, but sometimes it is plainly wrong.^[55] A teacher may attempt to elicit the correct issue from a student with actual interaction, or she may explain entirely through lecture the issues to cases and problems. Students may become confused and ask the following question: I understand the issue when you carefully identify and explain it, but how do I go about doing that on my own? Our response--either explicit or implicit--is that they should follow along and sooner or later they will get the hang of it. Somehow by osmosis this experience will produce these skills. Even with a faculty explanation that provides concrete step-by-step instruction concerning the formulation of issues,^[56] the emphasis in learning is still repetition over time.

Of necessity some of this process must be accomplished vicariously through observation of the work of others.^[57] Nevertheless, anyone who has ever struggled with this knows that real learning of skills is accomplished experientially. Knowing the issue and developing basic tools for analysis and problem solving are much like learning to ride a bicycle. Quite simply, the skill of balancing a bike cannot be learned exclusively through books and lecture. Nor can it be learned merely through observation. Balancing on two wheels demands active participation. One must attempt to ride without expectation of instantaneous success. One must fall, get up, try again, get up, try again and over time succeed. One only gets the hang of it by actually doing it and, if necessary, doing it over and over and over again.

I am describing a process that is often labelled socratic, and the illustration concerning issue identification occurs within the context of the case method. But the process is not really tied to either. Because the subject of our classes is law, it only makes sense that the focus consists of cases, statutes, regulations, and constitutions. The problem method really involves the same thing as the case method, only it is more advanced. It focuses on the application of the law--cases, statutes, etc.--within the context of a specific problem and its solution. Presentation of a problem may test one's understanding of the law or it may assume that one has already mastered it. In either instance, one must take the next step and apply that understanding towards a solution. Along the way, one may discover that there are different understandings and different solutions for consideration. Indeed, the problem method achieves what teachers of the case method frequently try to accomplish with their hypotheticals.^[58]

As for the socratic label, it is really a misnomer.^[59] What I am describing is a method of rigorous inquiry that need not be socratic. It does involve forcing students to think critically and carefully. It requires them to formulate an understanding and to justify that understanding. It requires them to apply their understanding and to defend that application. It forces them to integrate, synthesize, critique, and explain. It forces them to examine things logically and to elaborate policy. The forum can be a classroom discussion with cases, it can be a seminar paper that develops and critiques a body of law, or it can be a clinical practicum or simulation that addresses a client's problem. Above all, it must be interactive--with teachers, but also with students.^[60] The process requires students to formulate an idea that is then subjected to careful scrutiny. Next in light of that scrutiny, it requires students to improve on that idea or understanding. And if one does this enough times, eventually students are able to master the skill and analyze the rule or problem--critically and comprehensively--on their own.^[61] This has been the essence of legal education and something the Washington University School of Law does best.

Once again, however, there are storm warnings on the horizon. For years, we have asked candidates for entry-level positions in teaching about their own learning experiences in law school. Indeed, times are changing. More and more we see candidates from outstanding law schools with little or even no history with the kind of experiential learning just described. Indeed, one can identify a very highly-regarded law school whose recent graduates inform us that there is not a single "socratic" teacher at that school. Many classes do have discussions, but these discussions do not include the rigorous examination or scrutiny that enable the student and the class to move to a higher level of skill and understanding. Undoubtedly, some people can master these skills on their own, or at least with minimal experience. These are the best and the brightest, and the people we often interview. They caught on, but only time and experience will teach them that this is not the way most of us learn and must be taught these critical skills.

My concern for Washington University is not so much now, but ten to twenty years from now when there may be fewer and fewer teachers who recognize the importance of these skills and how to teach them. I am concerned that there will be a time in which there will no longer be models for experiential learning that are a part of our faculty's recent memory and their own personal history. And when this happens, experiential learning as we have known it will disappear.

I am concerned about the future because I believe there will be greater and greater movement away from experiential learning and the skills that have distinguished our craft and our education. Today we have more law than we had ten years ago and ten years before that.^[62] And with each generation of law student, the law becomes more and more complex.^[63] The lure of information and the need to teach it is irresistible, and the desire to teach all of it may become compelling.^[64] To be sure, information can be disseminated through interactive and experiential learning that also concentrates on skills. Nevertheless, this experiential teaching methodology is terribly inefficient when it comes to dissemination of information.

Experiential learning requires extraordinary patience on the part of both the teacher and students. A student response requires scrutiny through a teacher's thoughtful reply. And when necessary, the teacher and student must resume the process with a principle and question that are more elementary. Ideally, the student must always see and achieve the light herself. This consumes time, and often it is a lot of time. Inevitably, experiential learning must sacrifice coverage and information.^[65] Information begets vast knowledge and expertise, but without problem solving skills both are meaningless. Nevertheless, I fear that the lure of information will consume legal education during the twenty-first century.^[66] And I firmly believe that legal education and lawyers will not be better off because of it.

This leads me to the other storm warning registered for me by the remarks of the teaching candidate previously mentioned. He would establish a Web Site to answer student questions because it would enable him to answer student questions efficiently and, therefore, trade student contact time for research and writing time. My first reaction concerned new technology--computers and the internet. If you create it, people will use it. But they will also abuse it. To begin with, students have questions and a lot of them. Many questions warrant answers, especially if they exist and the teacher has them. Most questions, however, present the very best opportunities for experiential learning. Indeed, these opportunities should be a part of the total course package, where the learning of analytic skills and information occurs outside the classroom just as it does within it. These experiences again occupy contact time with students. They require a dialogue and careful guidance by a teacher instead of straight out answers. Although the teacher may accomplish this with a heavy hand, the student usually comes away with a sense of having solved his own problem. And surely this is what legal education should be about.^[67] To be certain, one can conduct a personalized dialogue with e-mail. Nevertheless, something important is lost when the dialogue is spread out over hours and days.

Even more important, computers and the internet eliminate human contact. Every good teacher knows that many student questions reflect more than the question itself. Students are often terribly confused. A simple answer to their question would not begin to address the real reason for their question. Indeed, very often their question is fabricated into something readily answered or something impossible to answer. The teacher must detect the reason for the question. This is accomplished with the teacher's own questions and some explanations along the way. But it is also detected through a student's expressions and behavior^[68]-- something that escapes a dialogue through computers. Once detected, the teacher must fashion a dialogue that addresses the root source of the confusion. And this may require more questions, responses, and explanations.

In addition to confusion, every good teacher knows that student questions often reflect nothing more than a desire for human contact and feedback. This is especially true for first-year law students. Their anxiety level is enormous; it is something we must always anticipate and accept. They are learning skills that may not come naturally or immediately. They are accustomed to finding and giving correct answers. But now their responses receive a level of scrutiny unknown to them in the past. There may be no right answer, but they do not know that quite yet. Apart from what goes on in the classroom and faculty offices, they will not have feedback before the final exam. The feedback they seek may also transcend the course. The problem they really want discussed could concern future employment, whether they really wish to remain in law school, or it could be personal and unrelated to school. Whether their question masks their need to address anxiety or a personal problem, in these instances students approach their teacher with a question intended to invoke a dialogue about them and not a specific answer.

One should note that the foregoing discussion about the importance of face-to-face dialogue is truly about teacher accessibility. This has been the cornerstone of the commitment to teaching at the Washington University School of Law. It is something that has marked us as different and very special. But it is something that can easily be lost. The demands for faculty time will get worse, not better.^[69] Contact time with students translates into less time for scholarship, committees, advisory positions, and other things. And the advances of technology will offer substitutes--albeit inadequate--for personal contact time. The appeal of these substitutes will be enormous. I fervently hope that the faculty of this law school will find them resistible.

Well, this has been my two cents worth. You may find it worth more or less depending upon your values and views about legal education.

[*] Joseph H. Zumbalen Professor of the Law of Property, Washington University. A.B., Harvard University, 1957; J.D., University of Chicago, 1960.

[1.] As one might expect, however, people seldom listen, especially when one's forewarnings are of troubled times.

[2.] Our new building has been the focus of a fund-raising campaign--entitled "Building for a New Century." This campaign, which has been very successful, is also about building an institution for a new century. Consequently, it transcends the new building--Anheuser-Busch Hall--and includes fund-raising efforts targeted at scholarships, endowment, and annual giving. Through these efforts we hope to put into place strategies for integrating all alumni--especially young alumni--into the life of the law school.

[3.] I came to the Washington University School of Law in August, 1963, and its home at that time was January Hall. In September, 1971, the School was moved to a brand new home--Seeley G. Mudd Hall--and the move to Anheuser-Busch Hall was made during December, 1996. Along with me, there are several faculty members who have actively served the law school in all three buildings.

[4.] Certain information that is needed to make accurate comparisons is not readily available from the classes that entered the School of Law during the early to mid 1960s. Nevertheless, as a result of my experience as a teacher then and now, and my work on the admissions committee, I know that important changes have occurred. For example, our program for recruitment of students from across the country has yielded exactly that. When I began teaching in 1963, students who hailed from either coast were virtually nonexistent. Now, however, we have a substantial number from Florida, Maryland, New Jersey, New York, and California. Further, in 1963 nearly all students entered law school directly upon graduation from college. Some entered after three years of college and obtained their college degree at the end of their first year of law school. Today, however, most students do not come directly to law school from college. Typically, they will take a year or more to do something else. Consequently, the age and previous life experiences of the entering class have increased over the years.

There is, however, some information one can glean from Bulletins of the Washington University School of Law and from personal experience with students from the 1960s. This information further confirms diversification of the student body at the School of Law. In 1963, 86 students entered as freshmen. Three were women, two were African-American, and one was a member of another minority. Total enrollment for the entire school was 218, and these students had attended 57 colleges. In 1964, 95 students entered as freshmen. Six were women, one was African-American, and no other minorities were represented in that class. Total enrollment for the entire school was 238, and these students had attended 75 colleges. In 1965, 83 students entered as freshmen. One was a woman, one was an African-American, and two came from other minorities. Total enrollment for the entire school was 228, and these students had attended 78 colleges. Significant attrition occurred (a percentage much greater than that which occurs today) in each of these classes so that the numbers at graduation were considerably less than those at the time of entry. This attrition affected the representation of women and minorities just the same as it did the rest of the class. Because their numbers were so small to begin with, attrition sometimes completely wiped-out the representation of a particular group by the time of graduation.

By way of comparison, in 1997 197 students entered the School of Law as freshmen. Ninety-three (47.2%) were women, 18 (9.1%) were African-American, five (2.5%) were American Indian, 14 (7.1%) were Asian, and 9 (4.6%) were Hispanic. Further, this entering class of 197--a number close to the total enrollment of the entire school in the 1960s--attended 113 colleges.

[5.] One should note, however, that numerical credentials often belie talent. Although their "LSAT" test scores and cumulative "GPAs" were lower than applicants from the nineties, the classes of the sixties and seventies were extraordinarily talented as their careers have demonstrated. One thing I know for certain: the classroom dialogues of the sixties and seventies were as vigorous and sophisticated as any I have seen during my entire time at the Washington University School of Law.

[6.] In commenting on the Washington University School of Law, the Princeton Review observed: "The overall strength of the Washington J.D. program derives in large part from the law school's highly respected (read; highly published) faculty, more than one third of whom are women. (This degree of faculty gender balance is almost unheard of among the nation's finest law schools.)" PRINCETON REVIEW 432 (1996).

[7.] We have three faculty members who are black. Two come from the United States and one from an African nation.

[8.] The Washington University School of Law 1997-1998 Bulletin--which was actually published in 1996--included the following biographical information about its untenured faculty.

Stuart Banner, J.D. Stanford Law School. Professor Banner joined the School of Law in 1993. Before beginning his teaching career, Professor Banner was a law clerk to Judge Alex Kozinski, United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit and to Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, Supreme Court of the United States. He has also been a staff attorney at the Office of the Appellate Defender and an associate at Davis Polk & Wardwell, both in New York.

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Kathleen Clark, J.D. Yale Law School. Professor Clark, who joined the School of Law in 1993, specializes in legal ethics and government ethics. After graduation from the Yale Law School, she was a law clerk to Judge Harold H. Green of the United States District Court, District of Columbia, and counsel to the Senate Judiciary Committee.

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Pauline Tongchoo Kim, J.D. Harvard University Law School. Professor Kim joined the School of Law in 1994. Before beginning her teaching career, she was a staff attorney at the Employment Law Center, Legal Aid Society of San Francisco, and a law clerk to Judge Cecil F. Poole, United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit. In 1984-85 she was a Henry Fellow at New college, Oxford University.

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Ronald Mann, J.D. University of Texas-Austin School of Law. Before joining the School of Law , Professor Mann was a law clerk to Justice Lewis F. Powell of the Supreme Court of the United States. He was also an assistant to the solicitor general of the United States, where his responsibilities included briefing and arguing cases . . . before the Supreme Court. Professor Mann has also practiced commercial law in Houston, Texas.

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Curtis J. Milhaupt, J.D. Columbia University School of Law. Professor Milhaupt joined the law faculty in 1994 after having practiced corporate law in the New York and Tokyo office of Shearman & Sterling. While still in private practice, he taught Japanese law and administered the Japanese Legal Studies Program as an associate research scholar at Columbia Law School, as well as conducted research on Japanese corporate law and securities regulation at the University of Tokyo as a Japan foundation Fellow.

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Karen Porter, J.D. Yale Law School. Professor Porter has worked extensively on issues surrounding AIDS and the law. Before coming to Washington University, she was assistant professor in the Department of Epidemiology and Social Medicine at Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York. From 1989 to 1993, Professor Porter served as senior policy analyst and staff counsel for the National Commission on AIDS.

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Leila Sadat Wexler, J.D. Tulane University School of Law, L.L.M. Columbia University School of Law, D.E.A. University of Paris-Sorbonne. Professor Wexler has firsthand knowledge of international and comparative law. A member of the French bar, she clerked for the Conseil d'Etat and the Cour de Cassation, both Supreme Courts of France. Professor Wexler practiced international commercial law in Paris for five years before joining Washington University.