Law School Rankings: Attitude and Altitude

Law school rankings are often presented as a linear truth, leading to endless arguments among those with a vested interest in attacking rankings generally…or in relishing their school’s rank. The academic-snob equivalent of “Is not!” “Is too!” are heard ad nauseam. Soon we forget just what it is that the rankings are measuring, and what, exactly, we should be doing with that measurement. This is especially true for those not yet in law school.

A ranking of law schools is not linear. Rather, it is three-dimensional, extending above and across the United States. Moreover, each law school has a different appearance, as it strives to shine ever brighter and higher in its own way. This too is not quite right, as nearly all attempt to shine like the brightest of them all.

First is the stellar trinity: Harvard, Yale, and Stanford. These are not so much aircraft soaring high above as they are satellites. In fact, they’re not ordinary geosynchronous satellites, content to perch miles above Cambridge, New Haven, and Palo Alto, providing all manner of legal feed. Instead they zip across the nation and planet, soaring in elliptic orbits high above each continent and presenting an easy object for raised heads and our collective admiration. They circle closest above their home base, of course, and report in each revolution…but they relish their global reach. They’re not exactly stars, but they certainly look that way from below.

The brightest of all is Harvard. A large law school, it is active in seemingly every conceivable area in the law. Indeed, many of its projects become areas of broader legal concentration and concern, such as the Harvard Negotiation Project (under which Alternative Dispute Resolution received an important boost, becoming a major feature of the law and law practice). One of many current efforts is the Berkman Center for Internet and Society…a research center adding to its considerable luster. Yale and Stanford, by contrast, are smaller law schools. Their illumination, while too bright to look at directly, is nonetheless a bit less stunning than Harvard’s. Moreover, an interesting phenomenon is seen with the passing of each satellite: Harvard appears as a bright orangish-white, while Yale seems to have more of a bluish tint. Just as visible light can be quite different, depending upon its “temperature,” this is the focus, at Yale, on the many academic pursuits in legal education. In short, Yale is more centered on pure academics—leading to the assumption among many academics that it is the best law school—while Harvard seems too large and unwieldy to maintain such a focus. A large percentage of Yale’s graduates enter judicial clerkships, with the goal of teaching in a law school, or working in public policy or a non-profit. Harvard, by contrast, seems astride the entire profession: each year it produces many hundreds of new associates for the biggest law firms, and nearly as many for judges—and from there to yet more top firms, top agencies, and law schools around the country. With a large population of extraordinarily talented graduates, Harvard populates seemingly every corner of high-powered law. Smallish Stanford tends to take Harvard’s generally more pragmatic approach, giving it the same orangy-white shine…but not quite a bright as the one zooming above Cambridge in its daily circumnavigations. As a result, not just the rest of legal education but even the others in the top-tier club look to shine as brightly as does Harvard.

I can hear it now: But Yale is ranked higher! Yes, it is. But that is irrelevant. If one looks closely at the methodology of the rankings, they will see that a large part of that reason is twofold: the focus of Yale on the “theory” side, and its lower acceptance rate. The focus of both is of importance mostly to…other law professors. A judge hardly cares that Yale is a bit more “eggheady” than Harvard: both are seen as equally worthy (depending, of course, on whether that judge happened to have attended either of them—not an unlikely occurrence). As to the lower acceptance rate, that’s a matter of simple numbers: with an entering class a bit more than one-third that of Harvard, it’s hardly surprising that Yale has a lower acceptance rate. In absolute terms, however, Harvard has about twice as many applicants—individuals who would almost kill to get in. And how many stop to think about just how silly this is? After all, both law schools accept the tippy-top layer of the LSAT/GPA crème. Does it really matter that one has applicants a few tenths of a percentile higher or lower? No, the acid test is the one on the street: ask the nearest ten people what’s the best university in the country, and you’ll likely get a near-unanimous answer. Harvard. It has become part of the global consciousness—despite many examples that would disprove it, technically—as the academic equivalent to “the best that there is.” Those seven letters, in that order, say it all.

From one Yalie: “They just have better marketing than my people, that’s all.” Actually, that’s not far from the truth. It is a branding campaign underway for centuries, however. For our purposes, this is akin to the ancient question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. Whether we like it (or accept it) or not, Harvard-Yale-Stanford form the law school “ideal”—the model upon which legal education rests. And it’s the model to which legal employers look.

Below these three are the Top Tier law schools, in their high-altitude positions above the countryside. Many are spotted high above the coasts, with the occasional one above Ann Arbor, Chicago, Austin, and a few other spots in flyover country. These are geosynchronous, holding their positions high above their home bases—some a little higher than others, but all clearly (and proudly) in the stratosphere. Visible for those with the right gear from anywhere, it’s possible to see these dotted high above the country. Like Harvard, most have that familiar orangy-white sheen: they’re proud to place graduates at the top law firms, and hope to place a healthy percentage with judges—also for eventual placement with top firms and perhaps a professorship here and there, as well as the occasional Senator. Each graduate placed at a top firm or with a top judge adds just a tiny bit of fuel to boost itself a wee bit higher. A few look instead to that smaller satellite zipping above New Haven, and so you see at least one bird a tiny bit more bluish-white, high above Chicago. The rest, however, sit proudly, orangish-white, high above their domains.

As inhabitants below have a habit of looking straight up, an odd phenomenon starts to take hold. Even though all of these are very, very high, each seems to shine just a little bit brighter directly below. For this reason, only the top of the top tier are truly “national” law schools, meaning they are visible throughout the country and their graduates are fairly well assured of finding a job, easily, anywhere in the country. The rest of this tier is quasi-national, meaning that among most employers their graduates have almost the same cachet…but not quite, and landing a job isn’t quite so easy, especially outside that law school’s earthly footprint. So a senior partner in, say, Los Angeles, while appreciative of the pretty cast of the satellite above even Charlottesville, Virginia (and clearly mindful of the storied history of Thomas Jefferson’s legacy) seems still a bit more inclined to admire the spell cast by those superstars, and by the ones right above. Gosh they seem bright.

Below these are the Second Tier law schools: some at the lower edge of the stratosphere (still visible throughout wide swaths of the nation), and some at the higher altitudes of the troposphere—just below visual range outside their region. Each burns bright (but not quite as bright as those above)—each with scholars, students, and great energy devoted to all of the many activities that the satellites zipping higher are admired for. Because so many do have that habit of looking straight up, anyone directly below will see the not-quite-so-bright shine of this law school and often be dazzled by it even a tiny bit more than of a higher one farther away.

Further below are the Third Tier law schools: most shining in the sun above various states and regions of the nation—but barely seen beyond that visual range. Some, lower still, are visible mostly in the clusters of cities and towns below them. They too devote great energy to their activities, and as they are piloted by former passengers on those highest satellites, they too seek to emulate that bright sheen seen zooming above the nation. Shiny is good! Higher is better!

* * *

From this, a three-dimensional picture emerges. This is not technical; it is visceral. We look at what we want to look at, and at what is easiest to look at, and at what it prettiest. Hiring partners cannot know 200+ law schools, and even if they could they would chortle at the suggestion. No, they will pay attention only to what they want to: to the stars that matter to them. Those are the ones they can see and admire.

A “lesser” law school, while focusing in the same way on teaching law as Harvard, has a smaller area of visibility. If it happens to be above our hiring partner in Los Angeles, and if it’s sufficiently shiny, the firm might well consider its graduates. If not—if it’s beyond range, too low for safety’s sake, or just a bit too dull—then no dice. And no deal. Sometimes, a firm will consider the token valedictorian, to please the local powers that be. Often, however, the firm has its own pressures to contend with; the shininess of its new hires is one of them. This is not just for vanity. Even the thought of putting a new associate in front of a client sends chills down partners’ collective spines. Putting a graduate of Harvard in front of them works (provided the associate’s mouth stays closed).

Crucially, the lower the school, the more constrained its graduates are geographically and the weaker is its employment “umbrella” for that crucial first law job. This is the value and importance of rankings to you. They perform a highly useful service: they tell you the altitude of the law school, and how brightly it shines (and for whom). From there, the rest is up to you. Not just as a saying, but genuinely. It’s up to you to determine the variables that are most important to you, and of course the crucial LSAT/GPA variables that are the price of admission to any of the rides.

This is from the preliminary chapter, “Getting In,” on pages 94-99.