Access to Law Exam Questions Should Not Be a Political Tool
Criminal law, taught virtually last semester, ended at 6:10 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday night. In the last few minutes of class, my mind tends to wander to whatever I might throw together for dinner afterwards. On Tuesday, March 16, however, my thoughts abruptly snapped from groceries to grades when Professor Brandon Hasbrouck told the class he would provide us with two exam questions ahead of time if every single person in the class attended the Law Review’s Equal Justice Symposium that weekend. He indicated he would ask us in class the following week whether or not we had attended.
As the Law Review’s faculty advisor, notifying students of the Law Review’s events and opportunities falls within his purview. In fact, several professors have taken a couple minutes of class time to share information about panels and other events in which they are involved or which relate to course content.
Treating attendance at the symposium as the proverbial carrot, however – dangling it in front of access to exam questions – goes beyond the pale of a faculty advisor’s responsibility to an organization. Not only does it artificially inflate attendance at a highly political event, it also singles out the students who do not wish to support an event so contrary to their political beliefs. Additionally, providing exam questions to students in advance does not prepare us to sit for the bar exam after completing our legal education.
Professor Hasbrouck is not quiet about his political beliefs. He frequently publishes articles on race, including advocating removing both Washington and Lee’s names from our university, and teaches a law class about critical race theory. The term “equal justice,” the title of the Law Review’s symposium this year, has become a rallying cry for the political Left. Those who advocate for it, however, are not advocating for a flawless execution of the American legal system, designed to punish or acquit on a race-blind, gender-neutral, and socioeconomic-unconscious basis, as it was intended. Instead, these activists believe that such factors should influence our courts in every aspect of proceedings, from bench appointments and jury selection to sentencing.
The Equal Justice Symposium reflected these same ideas. Panelists included Janai Nelson – an NAACP defense fund lawyer whose Twitter page indicates her support for H.R. 1, the House of Representatives’ most recent attempt to increase voter fraud by not clearing the rolls and eliminating state voter identification laws – and Bertrall Ross, a constitutional law professor at UC Berkeley who believes that conservative policies exist to suppress minority voting. Simply glancing at the symposium program indicated that it would not provide a balanced discussion about legal issues.
Immediately, I became uncomfortable at the idea of using access to exam questions to push students to attend an event that, although it was not political on its face, was clearly designed to push a controversial agenda. Law school exams are a highly competitive sport in which we all engage at the end of every semester. More often than not, a single test determines our entire grade in a course, and we’re pitted against each other to fight for a coveted spot at the upper end of a bell curve. Knowing just one or two questions a professor may ask on an exam provides a significant advantage during exam preparation. Undoubtedly, students who would not have otherwise attended the event would now eagerly trade an hour or two of their time in exchange for two exam questions.
Moreover, my stomach churned at the idea of the professor asking whether or not we attended. Because the symposium was not ideologically inclusive, requiring people to disclose their attendance seemed to amount to requiring a public announcement of personal beliefs. While some of us are more outspoken than others about our views, those who safeguard their ideologies have the right to do so and understandably: in recent years, conservative students have been bullied for their beliefs on university campuses nationwide. Now, those who refused to support an unbalanced discussion would not be able to retain their anonymity. Instead, we would be singled out to our classmates for our beliefs. Immediately after class, I received messages from my classmates urging me to attend. Some of my like-minded friends received similar messages.
The symposium came and went. Almost a month passed before Professor Hasbrouck revisited the subject. On Thursday, April 8, however, a student asked a question about the upcoming exam, including whether or not we would receive two of the exam questions in advance. In response, Professor Hasbrouck asked those of us who did not attend to “raise our hands” using the Zoom function that pops up a little hand emoji in the corner of your screen. After doing so, Professor Hasbrouck then announced that he would provide the two exam questions despite a handful of the class not attending. The whole exercise amounted to nothing but a stunt, seemingly designed to expose certain individuals to the rest of the class.
This is the type of political divisiveness that I had thought had no place in the legal profession and the kind of charade I certainly would not have expected at a well-renowned and highly respected institution like Washington and Lee. It is one thing, however reprehensible, for a professor to push a political narrative in class. But it is entirely another to require students to announce their beliefs and to use an exam as a tool to accomplish those ends.
[The opinions expressed in this magazine are the author's own and do not reflect the official policy or position of The Spectator, or any students or other contributors associated with the magazine. It is the intention of The Spectator to promote student thought and civil discourse, and it is our hope to maintain that civility in all discussions.]