Closing Argument: LSAT Revisited

New tests of future law success.

If a three-hour multiple-choice exam can't pick folks who'll make outstanding upholders of law and justice, what could? That's the question being posed by the Law School Admission Council in response to increasing criticism of schools' overreliance on the LSAT. Recently, the LSAC set aside funds for researchers to explore new ways to select future lawyers. The process could take years. Meanwhile, we've come up with a few ideas of our own.

The Endurance Test
At 6 P.M. on exam day, applicants are seated at a poorly lit desk, where they are provided with a Lexis-linked laptop, a thermos of highly acidic decaf, and an "unlimited vending budget." Next, test takers are given a 500-page document to proofread and "redraft as necessary." The final version is due, "with multiple CCs, on a senior partner's desk" by 8 A.M.

At 3:30 A.M., the computer, as programmed, crashes. Upon rebooting, applicants recover their painstaking redraft work, but umlauts are now scattered randomly throughout the text, and all citations have been deleted. At 5, a recording of Mating Garbage Trucks II is piped in. At 5:30, applicants discover that the printer toner has been replaced by Cremora.

At 6, a proctor enters each room with a fresh stack of documents and tells applicants this new work has "absolute priority." It must be proofread and "redrafted as necessary" by 10 a.m. The proctor comments, "You look tired. You really ought to get some rest."

At 10:15 A.M., those applicants who have met both deadlines are ushered into a room awash in blinding sunlight and asked whether collateral estoppel applies to cases in which the court has issued a nunc pro tunc order on the secondary issue under consideration.

A correct answer earns applicants entry into the law school of their choice.

The Rainmaker Test
Applicants are led into hospitality suites. From a group of 100 men and women wearing matching blue suits, they have 20 minutes to identify the client with a solid connection to a piece of Fortune 100 business. Applicants who complete this section early may grab pretzels and a gin and tonic.

Next, applicants have 20 minutes to make contact with the client prospect and to establish that they (a) played lacrosse in the same NCAA conference, (b) used to sleep with the same person, and/or (c) slept with a lacrosse player in the same NCAA conference.

Applicants have a final 20 minutes to gain extra credit by putting their business cards in the prospect's palm while subtly implying that the potential client's current law firm is (a) suffering financial difficulties, (b) facing several hush-hush malpractice suits, and/or (c) known to copiously pad its bills.

The Commitment Test
Along with test fees, applicants are required to submit a list of significant upcoming personal events-including weddings, vacations involving nonrefundable villa rentals, and/or long-planned trips to see beloved dying ancestors in distant motherlands.

At 5 P.M. on the day before any of the above events, applicants will be notified by pager that they are to report immediately to a testing center. After a ritual half-assed apology by the proctor, delivered in the manner of a partner heading out for the weekend, test takers are led into a storage area stacked with 110 boxes containing 157,000 documents hypothetically requested by opposing counsel in the discovery proceedings of a complex litigation. Applicants are given 48 hours to closely review the pile and expunge any communications protected by attorney-client privilege.

Applicants who pass the test are those who not only complete the work successfully and on time but also inquire of the proctor, "Is there anything else I can do?"