In a previous MTC article, I discussed some of the challenges in the format and economics of modern American legal education. That format includes an elongated graduate program (three years) on top of a four-year undergraduate degree. I argued that the UK employs a better method through its three-year undergraduate LL.B (Bachelor of Laws) and the Oxford B.A. in Jurisprudence. Cambridge, the University of Edinburgh, and the London School of Economics, among others, host the LL.B (and the 1-year graduate LL.M), which are all considered “QLD,” or qualifying law degrees. Oxford also hosts the B.C.L., or Bachelor of Civil Laws, (an accelerated graduate format), while Canada’s McGill University combines both common and civil law in one program. The UK also recognizes prior learning and experience (or “RPL”) which can speed things up with credit for previous academic work in other fields.

The U.S., by contrast, continues to crank out the J.D. (Jurisprudence Doctorate), which, as Judge Richard Posner relates in Overcoming Law, is effectively an undergraduate law degree and covers no more (in some cases less) than its UK and EU counterparts. Put another way, a law student can be qualified to enter the legal profession as an undergraduate, in the same way our engineering students are also trained as licensed engineers. Instead of sitting in a classroom until your late 20’s (the average law school graduation age in the U.S. is 28), the UK-style program gets students out into the marketplace and into the world of work in at least half the time and half the cost (I discuss this issue at greater length in an academic article for those who may be interested). It is in the world of work—any kind of work and work experience—that a vital transformation takes place for any of us: the constant interaction of working with others; receiving frequent, active feedback from your peers, customers, and others; and reaping the benefits of practice, making mistakes, and learning by doing, as Judge Oliver Wendall Holmes argued.

Looking back on my earlier career in aviation, as a young flight cadet at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University, I was trained first as a private pilot, then as a commercial and instrument-rated pilot, and, finally, as a flight instructor. I think this provides a model of legal training—allow me to explain.

When you learn how to fly (after you pass a comprehensive medical exam), you combine so-called “ground school” subjects like aerodynamics, meteorology, navigation, aircraft systems, regulations, and more, with actual flying lessons with a certified flight instructor (CFI). These ground school subjects are not unlike basic law school subjects like contracts, property, torts, civil procedure, and corporate law. But unlike law, you are explicitly and immediately learning in 3 dimensions, including actual flight operations, and with that, the demands of applying your academic subjects right away, all while developing your motor skills, judgement, and “air sense.”

But there is also something else: you are developing your confidence to fly solo, in complete control of and with complete responsibility for the successful conduct of a planned flight. Indeed, the objective of flight training is to first reach the solo stage where you fly alone, while preparing for eventual written, oral, and practical exams, where you will be awarded (or will fail or wash out) your license and certifications from the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA).

[Related: “What Is the Future of American Legal Education?”]

While I recognize that law schools have something akin to flight “simulators” (moot court) and have clinics, internships, and law review opportunities, they really are not at all like “flying solo,” where the stakes are high. Moreover, there is nothing quite like being in a real court room, following rules and procedures of the court (which, if you do not, will ground your flight immediately), and interacting with judges and opposing counsel. Outside of court, negotiating a settlement, helping a business owner finance a new building, or structuring a start-up business or merger simply cannot be taught to proficiency in law school, in libraries, or by reading and parsing cases.

This brings me to how law schools might be re-organized in what they teach (and how): I think it should resemble flight training, where the goal is to acquire basic knowledge of the fundamentals and some practice applying it through the development of good writing skills, all while aiming for your basic certification (the current Bar exam) so you can get out and work, learn, and develop your “law sense.”

In aviation training, we always say that your license is actually your ticket to learn (don’t tell the passengers or your students that). It doesn’t mean that you’re not qualified; in fact, you are highly qualified and had to prove it by performance examination. But you hold in your hands and in your mind (mens et manus) the basic competence to function safely while gaining precious hours of experience with weather, mechanical problems, air traffic control, international operations, and the care and responsibility of the passengers who put their well-being in your hands. Law is a lot like that—on the one hand, it is a mechanical and autonomous machine, and on the other hand, deeply personal, private, and life-changing matters are entrusted to legal experts who, more than mere contracts, rules, and torts, have to know how to respond in real-time to the dynamic environment of life—how to sense and respond to real people on human terms. There’s only one way to learn that: get out of school as fast as you can and get to work.

Aviation has another lesson for law training: after you get your initial license, and after you acquire documented experience over several years, you then systematically go back to flight training for advanced ratings on more complex aircraft that have higher levels of performance and make deeper demands on your skills (say, like complex litigation, or international tax, or advanced accounting). While the basics are always the basis of your competence, the advanced training builds on them and draws on the experience that you bring to the new qualification exams. The legal equivalent is the advanced law degree, the graduate LL.M or B.C.L. Then, in aviation, you may get your “jet rating” and ATP license (the Airline Transport Pilot qualification), which is called the “Ph.D” of command authority. In both law and aviation, basic training and experience are combined in a lifetime of learning, and for some, in the stature to become a “master instructor,” where you impart your hard-won knowledge, skill, and judgement. Understanding how different people process information and learn is essential to effective flight instruction and legal education.

Christopher Langdell, the storied Harvard Law Dean of the late 19^th century who championed the case method, may have harbored a bias against “practitioners,” which in my view has skewed the law school environment into an overly if unnatural theoretical culture. Like flying, law is three-dimensional, and it lives in that complex, often turbulent world.

Learn to solo as fast as you can: that is the goal of all education. There will be plenty of time to come in for a landing and refresh your skills. Then get back out again and fly.

Image: Avel Chuklanov, Public Domain