Just in time for Christopher Nolan’s take on The Odyssey, Chicago Law has decided its 1L classrooms need to look a lot more like they did back then.
In a new AI strategy document released this week, Chicago Law laid out its plan to train lawyers in a world where machines will happily outline courses, write briefs, and hallucinate cases for you. It reflects a couple years” worth of reevaluating the legal academy’s role in an AI world because, as someone said, the unexamined life is not worth living.
The policy itself is not as anti-technology as it might seem and actually takes some nuanced stances. But the school’s marquee move goes well beyond tamping down on AI shortcuts and into full Luddism.
Across all 1L sections, we will prohibit the use of electronic devices such as laptops, tablets, and phones in the classroom.
It’s one thing to ban students from using ChatGPT to generate answers, and quite another to force everyone back to quill and parchment. Laptops have dominated the law school classroom for decades. Many current students haven’t sat through a class without one since finger painting.
Besides, can a student really seamlessly pull up a satisfactory AI response to a cold call within seconds? The whole thing about the Socratic method — done properly — is that the student’s first, surface-level answer isn’t the point. The Socratic method is about getting grilled with follow-ups for a few minutes as you quietly long for hemlock. Claude can’t finish thinking about the prompt itself before the professor will expect an answer. Laptops in classrooms aren’t about using AI to cheat the process, they’re a powerful professional tool for playing Wordle instead of listening.
People who take notes by hand retain and synthesize better than people transcribing on a laptop, because longhand forces you to process the idea instead of stenograph it. The research is real. Then again, I learned to write things by hand. The 1Ls showing up this fall don’t necessarily know what good note-taking even looks like. My experience with the current crop of undergrads suggests they cannot clock which statements from an instructor merit writing down. And the research isn’t as robust on what learning from handwritten notes looks like when those notes are a half-recorded mess.
If students don’t see value in giving up the only note-taking tool they’ve ever known, they’re not going to want to come to your school. Someone admitted to Chicago has options.
This commitment manifests itself through our faculty’s dedication to teaching, our culture of challenging ideas through Socratic questioning and debate, and our grading policies that motivate students to engage with the material and that convey informative assessments of student performance to prospective employers. With AI disrupting higher education, our commitment to rigorous legal education also must mean openness to even rapid adaptation.
And by “openness to even rapid adaptation,” they mean retreating into nostalgia.
Both things can be true: that the Socratic method is an invaluable tool for teaching people to think like lawyers, and that educators who champion the Socratic method are, in fact, assholes. The method has proven one of the most effective models for legal education — and one of the few that AI cannot undermine — and one of the chief indicators that a professor has a narcissistic power trip complex. The proper mood to take toward the Socratic method is “necessary evil.”
Chicago isn’t alone. A few weeks ago, University of Texas dean Bobby Chesney told his faculty to lean back into Socratic questioning, describing classroom time as “the sole context in which a professor can be certain” that a student is actually learning something rather than laundering ChatGPT’s output through their own name. There’s nowhere to hide when the professor points across the room and sets off a chain reaction to Palsgraf.
Though, again, no one is capable of using their laptop to perform an end run around the Socratic method. To the extent the Socratic method is a valuable teaching tool in an AI-driven world, it’s not because it’s some sort of AI killer. It’s because the Socratic method turns lectures into participatory events instead of dry recitations. AI can summarize a monologue of a lecture, but it can’t watch the teasing out process of a professor torturing a student with a slightly modified hypothetical attacking the previous answer.
But while the anti-technology approach for classroom education garners more attention as the most radical reform, it’s unfair to characterize the whole policy as anti-AI. When Berkeley cracked down earlier this year, it forbade students from using AI to outline, draft, revise, edit, or basically breathe near anything submitted for credit. That prohibition seemed counterproductive for a professional school that is, theoretically, training students to enter a profession riddled with AI tools. Chicago’s approach is more enlightened on this point and attempts to strike a balance.
1L Legal Research and Writing. We are taking a different approach to 1L Legal Research and Writing (LRW). Many (if not most) students will spend their 1L summers in professional environments where they will be expected to use AI tools for research and writing tasks. Thus, the LRW curriculum must also include instruction in the responsible, effective, and ethical use of AI. At the same time, even AI skills training must itself be AI-resilient. By the end of their 1L year, our students should have the ability to review, assess, and improve the output of AI tools.
Unlike Berkeley, Chicago isn’t pretending its graduates will practice in an AI-free world. Biglaw will not get much comfort from summer associates who can recite the Erie doctrine off the top of their heads but can’t use CoCounsel or Protege to fill out their research memos.
AI tools pose challenges to legal education, but refusing to teach to it is like refusing to teach Westlaw and Lexis back in the day. It’s going to be part of these students’ careers, and striking a balance between the doctrinal and practical education functions of the law school presents a good foundation for dealing with it.
But getting rid of laptops in class? That just seems like some dusty anti-tech prejudice using the gift of a new AI policy to wheel itself behind the walls. If only we had some kind of term for that.
Earlier: UC Berkeley Cracks Down On AI Use With New Policy
Joe Patrice is a senior editor at Above the Law and co-host of Thinking Like A Lawyer. Feel free to email any tips, questions, or comments. Follow him on Twitter or Bluesky if you’re interested in law, politics, and a healthy dose of college sports news.