Week One, Part 3 - CivPro: Dissecting Cases

I search for Room 121, feeling like the freshman I’ve become. The classroom is at the end of the first hallway. It’s big enough to have separate entrances about forty feet apart. I pick the one on the right and pull open a heavy door.

Before me is an amphitheater with eight rows of permanent desks. At ground zero stands a bearded man in a three-piece suit. Professor Bauer, I presume.

There are at least 75 students in the room and they’re crammed into the front six rows. The back two are empty, though, and I slip into the corner seat.

“Excuse me!” Bauer calls out, “I’ve notified everyone here that the back two rows are off limits.” All heads swivel around to check out their blushing classmate.

“Sorry,” I mutter. Bauer ignores me as I fumble with my papers and computer bag.

“In your first year of law school you will take five substantive courses,” he says. “Four of them begin this semester. Civil Procedure, Contracts, Torts, and Criminal Procedure. Property starts this spring.”

I see an empty spot in the front row, but no way am I marching down there! Instead I move one row forward, closer but still in no-man’s land. I doubt Bauer will embarrass me again, unless he’s a Kingsfield, the caustic prof from “The Paper Chase.”

“There’s a great divide between criminal and civil law,” Bauer says. “This class focuses on the latter.”

He strokes his beard. It’s light brown, flecked with gray and red, the same color as his suit. Bauer talks and dresses with preciseness.

“Two-thirds of the semester we’ll talk about personal and subject matter jurisdiction. Then we’ll discuss the Erie doctrine, the division of power between federal and state courts to decide laws.”

I pull my laptop out of its case and start taking notes.

“You’ll need a casebook and the green paperback on Federal Rules. Pick up the handouts for this course from my secretary. There’s no charge.” He pauses for effect. “It’s like when you buy a car, and they throw in the floor mats.”

We all laugh. The class seems good-humored and eager to please.

Bauer says his office is in the original part of law school, built in 1929. Back then an average class was 40 students. In the late 60's, enrollment increased. This fall there will be about 150 in the first-year class.

“Feel free to stop by and ask about class or career issues. At Notre Dame we have an open door policy.”

I’m starting to feel comfortable., and my face has returned to its normal color.

“For each substantive course, you will have a single three-hour exam at the end of the semester. There are no quizzes and no mid-terms.”

I check out my classmates. Everybody looks cool and calm. I imagine they’re thinking, I did great in college, great on the LSAT, and I’ll do great in CivPro too.

Bauer deflates us. “Law school exams are different from the ones you took as an undergrad. They require analysis rather than regurgitation.”

Bauer walks to the whiteboard and picks up a marker. “In first-year courses at most American law schools, you learn by studying cases. These are legal opinions written by the courts. Just as they dissect bodies in med school, you will brief cases. These will not be turned in or graded. Briefs are for you the student, not the teacher.”

On the board he writes:

• Facts
• Issue
• Holding
• Reasoning

“Now here’s what a brief might look like. Do the facts in chronological order. For the issue, figure out what the court had to decide in order to dispose of the matter. Our first case, Pennoyer v. Neff, will deal with personal jurisdiction. Put the issue in the form of a question. The holding is your answer. Finally, the reasoning is whatever principles the court applied. This is the most important part to draw out of the case.”

He stops and takes two steps forward until he’s directly in front of us.

“The point is to infer principles. You’re not legal plumbers! You must learn more than rules, because in practice you will come across situations you’ve never seen.”

I gulp.

“You’ll also be learning vocabulary, so pick up a legal dictionary. Black's or Ballentine’s. It's fair game for me to ask the definition of any word. There's no excuse for ‘I don't know.’”

It’s now 10:50. Students are closing their notebooks.

Bauer raises his voice a little. “No matter how brilliant I am, you might not understand it all. Get another perspective.” He tells us there are hornbooks on reserve in the library.

"Any questions about this class?”

No answer.

“About law school?”

Nothing.

“About the secret of life?"

We laugh, and he dismisses us.

* * *