Socratic Mishaps

From Tom Walk, Wake Forest University College of Law, Date of event: circa 1980

One of my classmates was in a Marine Corps program and kept his hair in a buzz-cut. One day our Trusts professor called on him to recite a case. After about 30 seconds it was clear that the student had not read the case.

The prof stopped him and said “You are not prepared today, are you”? He responded “I’m sorry, Professor. I washed my hair last night and had to blow it dry.” The sheer ludicrousness of the answer left the professor just shaking his head as the rest of us rolled in the floor laughing.

–From Jerry E. Stephens, University of Kansas School of Law, Date of event: Spring 1975

I had labor law at the University of Kansas under Professor Ray Goetz in the mid 1970s. Goetz was a truly outstanding teacher. He was able to refer to some momentous labor arbitration—particularly involving major league baseball—to spice up his lectures. But Ray Goetz could also be intimidating, particularly when he would look over the top of his reading glasses at students giving inane answers and comments.

He did have one redeeming virtue: he would call students for class recitation in classroom seating order. That gave students a rough estimate of the likelihood of being called on that class day and the next, and saved on some class preparation at times.

As it happened one rainy Saturday morning, the majority of those ahead of me skipped class. That left only two classmates ahead of me for class recitation that day. Neither did very well and Goetz was getting particularly exasperated.

Then he called on unprepared me. Just as I opened my mouth to answer there was a huge clap of thunder. Goetz probably sensed that I was unprepared. He looked directly at me and said that the thunder might have been the best answer I was going to muster that day. So he skipped me and turned to the next student in the row, who was much better prepared than I was.

–From Peter Weinberg, University of the Witwatersrand Law School (Johannesburg), Date of Event: 1975

During a discussion on the causes of divorce during a Law of Persons lecture, our lecturer asked whether adultery was a criminal offense. One student, who shall remain nameless, put up his hand and said “No, professor, adultery has been abrogated by disuse.”

The professor thought for a moment, then replied “Mr. _____, I think that the criminality of adultery has been abrogated by disuse. The practice is, I believe, still very popular.”

–From Gorden Penny, Texas Wesleyan School of Law, Date of event: Spring 2009

One student, while engaging in Socratic analysis with a female torts professor, referred to former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor as “MR. O’Connor.” His reference has gone down in the annals of “Absolutely What NOT to Say in Law School.”

–From Jarod Morris, Oklahoma City University School of Law, Date of event: Fall 2004

During my Civil Procedure course at Oklahoma City University I was called upon to discuss the Burger King franchise case. The professor asked me a series of questions and I did quite well until the professor came to the question regarding jurisdiction for the suit and why one of the parties wanted to have the case decided in a particular jurisdiction.

I was stumped. I couldn’t think of anything so I responded, “I guess they just wanted to have it their way.” The class erupted in laughter and I was so zoned in the Socratic Method dialogue that I didn’t realize the humor in the statement for a few seconds. I couldn’t have come up with something like that if I tried.

–From Fred C. Russcol, Albany Law School, Date of event: 1972

At Albany Law School in 1972, Professor Watkins was brilliant but prickly. One day, he called on my friend, John Keyes, who answered as best he could. After a moment, Professor Watkins said, “Mr. Keyes, can you tell me why that was the stupidest answer I’ve heard all semester?”

My friend responded, “Well, Professor, it’s the first time you’ve called on me!”

–From Timothy DePeugh, Catholic University School of Law, Date of event: Fall 2003

My Contracts professor, the ultra-fabulous Professor Watson at Catholic University, is shiny bald. One day he called on me to discuss a case that involved jojoba fields in Arizona. I always choked and made a fool of myself in class when he asked me questions, so while I was fumbling around, he asked the class generally if anyone knew what jojoba was. Surprisingly, I actually knew the answer to that one, and said it’s a seed from which they extract an oil that’s often used as an ingredient in hair care products, especially shampoos and conditioners.

He said, “Well, Mr. DePeugh, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” And the whole class erupted in laughter. I had no idea what was so funny, so I sort of zoned out for a bit. He continued asking questions, and a few minutes later, while I was in the middle of answering another one of his questions, I blurted out, “Oh! Now I get it. It’s because you don’t use shampoo … oh no, I’m so sorry.” And once again, the class burst into laughter. He thanked me for giving the matter additional consideration.

–From Ari Johnson, College of William & Mary Law School, Date of event: Fall 2004

Some law professors use the Socratic Method as a teaching device. Others use it to make sure their students are awake. But some professors play the Socratic Method as if it were a game of chess. My Torts professor was one of those. You could never win this game with him, of course. One day, he walked into class and the first words out of his mouth were “Mr. Johnson,” and he didn’t let up on me for fifteen minutes, hammering me with questions about the 1853 British case of Lumley v. Gye (in which a person was held liable for damages caused when he induced an opera singer to break her exclusive contract with an opera house).

Seeing that I was prepared, he threw me a curveball: “Mr. Johnson, who is your favorite singer?” Not having any authority to cite, I didn’t answer this question out of a fear that I’d somehow get it wrong. Of course, there is no wrong answer in the non-Socratic world to such a question, but there’s no such thing as a “reasonable law student” when it comes to irrational fear.

The prof finally asked my classmates to select a favorite singer for me and they decided on Bob Dylan. The professor continued to play the game out to its conclusion. This might be why some people choose boxing over law: 12 rounds can’t possibly be as bad as 25 minutes of the Socratic Method at its finest.

–From Jeremiah Jarmin, Appalachian School of Law, Date of event: Spring 2005

It was during Contracts II when the class was discussing mental incapacity to enforce a contract. The professor brought up the concept of volitional impediment when dealing with a person suffering from a particular mental disorder. He asked the class, “What does volitional impediment mean?” One of the students raised his hand and began as if he were going to deliver some sort of long intelligent explanation of the words. He responded, “Volitional impediment is when … your volition is impeded.” The class lost it.

Then the professor asked what exactly the term “manic” meant, as when one is in a “manic” state of mind. A second student adopted the same line of deep reasoning used by the first student, saying, “Manic, you see … is the opposite … of depressive.”

The class lost it again. The professor then kindly removed the student from his seat, and had him switch seats with a student who was sitting next to the first student. He essentially created the peanut gallery.

When the professor asked again, “What does manic mean?,” both students raised their hands in unison. It was hysterical.

–From John Schrier, University of Maryland School of Law, Date of event: 1980

The discussion of Socratic moments reminded me of a funny moment during Contracts I with Professor Young, back in 1980 at University of Maryland–Baltimore. Professor Young was grilling my classmate and apartment-mate on the facts of one case or another, trying to elicit some of the more basic principles of how a court will interpret the terms of a contract.

Having observed my buddy on a date the preceding evening, it came as no surprise that he was less than fully informed about the case under discussion. Pressing the point that contract terms will be construed against the drafting party, the professor asked: “And please tell us, Mr. F., who did draft the contract?”

While my apartment-mate was struggling to think of the answer, I couldn’t resist joking to another classmate, “The lawyers.” Unfortunately, I hadn’t expected that my desperate apartment-mate would overhear my joke and blurt it out in class as the answer to the question! He got a loud roar from the class and I got bathroom-cleaning duty for a week.