Professors, Too, Need To Practice Compassion

Law professors shouldn’t make students' problems worse by being dismissive, abusive, hostile, or absent.

Mean TeacherThere is often a large valley of misunderstanding between law professors and students. I think it stems from the fact that law professors sometimes forget what it is like to be a student, or misremember what it was like when they were students. Law professors I think sometimes believe (rightly) that they were great students, relive the “glory days,” having deeply suppressed all those negative feelings and insecurities that arose for them in law school. Hence, the Grand Canyon-sized communication gap between faculty and students.

I suspect also that law professors have differing viewpoints as to what their role should be in the process of getting students ready to be lawyers. Should they be mentors? Drill sergeants? Counselors? Guides? Colleagues? It is a function of the training the law professor received. After all, what better way to teach than the way I was taught?

Law students, however, don’t have the same experiences (or often) privileges law professors had going to school. The job market is different. Life is more uncertain. The grades are now a matter of job or no job. It isn’t just about bragging rights in a 100% employment world.

Thus, I might say to a student from my position of privilege: Don’t worry about grades. Focus on what you are learning!

The student does not hear a word of this. He or she will hear something different: That I don’t care. In the student’s mind, there is the overwhelming fear that he or she won’t be in the top of the class — the reality for most students, by definition. There is the fear of feeling stupid, vulnerable, and not at all worthy. Sometimes those feelings are masked by way of a thin veil of superiority complex, but not always.   In this instance, a student has asked that I validate those feelings, to say they are normal, and I have dismissed them entirely. Not good.

But it could be worse. Another professor might communicate, “suck it up,” or, “it’ll be worse when you practice.” Maybe it will be worse, but the person to whom the professor is speaking will be better trained for it in a few years. Probably not best to tell the new recruit that they are going to die in battle, right?

Here’s another example: I tell my students to cooperate. I tell them this because I don’t want my students to lose their humanity. But it isn’t easy for students to cooperate. As a personal example, in law school I once spent all night tutoring a friend of mine in a class. All night. I lost sleep, and by way of improving her understanding, was not the top grade in the class. She was! The audacity!   I am kidding. In reality, I’m happy for her. To this day, I don’t regret helping her. However, it is easy for me to tell students to cooperate: My friend and I both went on to get good jobs. It is another to instill that trust, confidence, and absence of fear about what happens if the person you help does better than you do. There is no reward for that in terms of GPA or job placement in the new legal world, only in terms of one’s humanity.

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A student might come into my office genuinely struggling with a concept. I know students who have left offices of law professors in tears because the professor dismissed the student’s concern. “You aren’t thinking hard enough,” the professor might say. “You clearly didn’t read,” another professor said dismissively. “If you don’t get what I said in class, I can’t help you,” another professor said. Another law professor touts his brilliance in class, implying that his students are not as smart. These examples are not from my school (not that I don’t have examples from my school), but my ears hear far and wide.

A friend of mine called law school the “Hunger Games.” Cooperation is helpful sometimes, but in the end, you’re on your own to survive and emerge victorious. With bar passage rates and employment rates shrinking, this is a rigged game hell-bent on destruction. All the undergraduate Lake Wobegon effects are no more: No longer will everyone be above-average. The very least a law professor can do is to practice compassion, and realize that the rules have changed since he or she was a law student. Depending on the law school, those students are competing against bigger-named schools where the students may not even be graded.

Add to all this that students sometimes face invisible battles, the kind we will never know about or see. Some students have depression, anxiety, or PTSD. Belittling, mocking, or otherwise insulting students will have unforeseen ripple effects on their psyches. Dismissing their fears doesn’t make them go away. Courage requires some foundations.

I’m not saying that law professors need to be their students’ psychotherapist. I’m not saying that law professors need to fix every issue every student brings forth. What I’m saying is: Law professors shouldn’t make those problems worse by being dismissive, abusive, hostile, or absent. In a way, you are teaching these students by example what not to become: You.


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LawProfBlawg is an anonymous professor at a top 100 law school. You can see more of his musings here and on Twitter (@lawprofblawg). Email him at lawprofblawg@gmail.com.