Consortium of Undergraduate Law and Justice Programs
  • About
    • Membership
    • Board of Directors
    • Bylaws
    • FAQs
    • Contact
  • Resources
    • Blog
    • Programs
    • Syllabi
    • Teaching Resources
    • Advising Resources
    • Undergraduate Research Prizes and Publishing Resources
    • Organizations & Research Institutes
  • Jobs
  • Awards
    • 2024 Call For Award Nominations
    • 2023 Awards Recipients
    • 2022 Awards Recipients
    • 2021 Awards Recipients
    • 2020 Awards Recipients
    • 2019 Awards Recipients
    • 2017 Awards Recipients
    • 2016 Award Recipients
  • Meetings
    • 2023 Pre-Conference Workshop
    • Pre-Conference Workshop RSVP
    • CULJP Meetings
  • Newsletter
  • Virtual
    • 2020 CULJP-Sponsored Law &Society Association Virtual Meeting

Students Reflect on Professionalizing during the Pandemic

1/29/2021

0 Comments

 
By Marissa Carrere, Sara Abdelouahed, Nicholas DeFranco, Becca Gullotto, Liam Harney, Clare Lonsdale, Alessandro Maviglia, and Helly Patel
 
 
“...to meditate on the value of their college experience…”
 
Marissa Carrere:  As Lecturer for Junior Year Writing in the University of Massachusetts Amherst Legal Studies Program, I teach a unit on professionalization. We practice writing personal statements, resumes, and cover letters, and we talk about how to strategically prepare for success when applying to advanced degree programs or breaking into the career field. We also look unflinchingly at the challenges of being a college student in the 21st century. We explore the myths of meritocracy and the pressure to maximize one’s "human capital." We talk about the economic realities of student debt loads, stalled upward mobility, and credential inflation, and we weigh in on the policy debates around whether universities should be accountable for student outcomes.
 
By their junior and senior year, Legal Studies students are excellent at applying the tools of their social sciences degree to the systems they are personally navigating as young adults, and they are vocal about the inequities and precarcities they face as a generation. At the same time, I am always impressed by how fiercely defensive students are of their college educations. They possess a strong sense of the intrinsic value of higher learning and the experience of being a college student, unscathed by their economic and political critiques of higher ed as an institution. Watching them discover the balance of these competing ideas is always one of my favorite parts of the semester.
 
However, when Fall of 2020 came around, in remote learning and with the pandemic surging, I felt totally at a loss as to how to teach this unit. Would they care about critiques of unpaid internships, when internships had suddenly disappeared  . . . and truly existential threats loomed? What would happen if I asked them to meditate on the value of their college experience . . . while vanquished to Zoom in their childhood bedrooms? How could I ask students to write resumes and prepare for their futures, when it was so unclear what the future could hold, or even when the future could begin?
 
As we enter a third semester in remote learning, I gathered several Legal Studies students to reflect on how the past year has affected the way they are thinking about their degrees and preparation for post-graduation plans. They generously share their perspectives below.
 
*****
 
“...when we have been living the same day on repeat for a year…”
 
We’ll open with Alessandro Maviglia, who candidly describes how the pandemic shook his sense of time and purpose.
 
Alessandro Maviglia (‘21): Probably the most notable effect of the pandemic is how it has construed my sense of time. March feels like two months ago, and summer felt like a warm long weekend. The days seem to melt together in tie-dye-like fashion, obscuring the once-understandable art piece that is my memory into an unintelligible multi-colored sludge. The parts of life we as college students typically look forward to, whether that be handing your professor your essay that you labored tirelessly on, going to that fun party on a Friday evening, or simply meeting up with a friend at a dining hall. All segments in time that help to ground us in our reality. All opportunities for us to decompress and enjoy ourselves, vanished under an invisible threat that could be lurking within a potential friend or loved one. I’m reminded of their once age-old existence every morning waking up to the same day. The same activities. The same insecurity about the future. How are students supposed to look to the future with hope when we have been living the same day on repeat for a year?
 
As a legal studies major with more time at home, I have spent considerably more time glued to the television searching for something, anything indicating an end to this fever dream. As a legal studies major, what the TV had to show me was only depressing. The might of American law was not harnessed by the country to address the pandemic in terms of a national plan to combat the threat. Senators were caught scrambling to sell stocks while insisting that the future was bright. Racism and discrimination has ravaged the country. Our capitol was besieged, and federal officers took photos with domestic terrorists. In the last year my faith in the rule of law has been shaken to its core.
                
*****
 
“...keeping my head up...”
 
Nicholas DeFranco and Liam Harney also describe a disruption to their sense of time, emphasizing the monotony and sense of indefinite “pause.” However--instructively--they each indicate how keeping their eyes trained on the long-term future has helped them overcome the challenge of the daily tempo of life.
 
Nicholas DeFranco (‘22):  The only gripe I have about learning in the age of the coronavirus is the unprecedented boredom. While the work as a legal studies major has been consistent in quality with years prior, it is difficult to get past the procrastination and outright boredom felt throughout the semester to complete work on time and follow through with assignments. I cannot place my finger on a precise reason, but learning and completing assignments from home seems to have negatively affected students’ ambition and motivation.
 
However, I have managed to assuage the negative feelings of dread and boredom I felt earlier by keeping my head up and my eyes forward. The future I have planned is still shining bright, even though the world has endured one of the darkest years in recent memory. However blurry my goals may seem in the fog of dread and confusion, my plans and vision have not changed. If anything, this pandemic has strengthened my conviction to work as hard as I can and become the person I envision. My plans to join the Coast Guard after college and work simultaneously on my law degree have not changed. Of course, my future could change in the future, but for the time being, I still have a confident long-term plan, and this pandemic has not sowed doubt.
 
Liam Harney (‘22): When this all started, I was very unhappy that so much of my life had to be put on hold because of things out of my control; my academic experience, my legal internships, living away from home. An internship at my university’s student legal service center would have been a great way for me to see how I enjoy legal work in a professional environment. I may still be able to do it in the future, but the pandemic has delayed my ability to get an early look at the career I’m working toward. However, I have also found opportunities that I would not have, had the year progressed as planned. I was always going to work between the semesters, but if we hadn’t been doing online classes, I would never have accepted the job that I’m currently at. I live and work with a college friend, providing care for three people with autism. I’m not learning a lot about law, but I am learning how to chop wood, manage a paycheck, and cook for five people at once. The skills I am obtaining thanks to this job may not be exactly what I had expected, but it's not for nothing. I have gotten back my independence, which is extremely valuable to me. And I can confidently say that I have made the most of a horrible year, which makes me proud. Not every step I take in life has to be perfectly efficient. As long as I’m pointed in the right direction, I know things will work out.
 
*****
 
“...I scrambled to keep myself busy…”
 
Going to battle against the structurelessness of the here-and-now, time emerges as a dominant theme also for Sara Abdelouahed. And, remarkably, she has managed to develop a full schedule of university and professionalizing activities, all through her laptop.
 
Sara Abdelouahed (‘22): In the spring of 2020, I was interning in Boston and living at UMass’ Mount Ida campus in Newton, Massachusetts. After the pandemic sent me back home to my parent’s house, managing my free time became difficult, but for a surprising reason: there were not enough hours in the day to accomplish everything that I wanted to do. I was shocked. Where did this sudden motivation to be productive 24/7 come from?

It dawned on me that I really didn’t like “free time” in the way that I used to, pre-pandemic. Remote learning did not have an end time - the assignments were always weighing on me long past my final Zoom call. Whenever I tried to unwind, I was reminded of the fact that I was 20 years old, spending my junior year of college in my shared high school bedroom. The lack of privacy and independence took its toll on me, and I scrambled to keep myself busy. I needed to stay productive in order to feel like I was still moving in the right direction with my collegiate career.


Now, at the start of 2021, I find myself registered as a full-time student with three remote internships and three executive board positions for university clubs. Is it a bad idea? It’s too soon to tell. But with my newfound time management skills and motivation to succeed when the odds are stacked against me, I am approaching the challenge confidently.
 
*****
 
“...anyone is bound to feel more apprehensive…”
 
Helly Patel and Clare Lonsdale both graduated into the pandemic economy, and report on how they are navigating uncertainties.
 
Helly Patel (‘20):  As the world went remote, applying to law school became even more competitive and intimidating. On a digital law school forum in the fall of 2020, the Dean of Admissions at BC Law informed us that at his particular law school, similar to others, applications have increased 80% in comparison to the previous year. With such knowledge, anyone is bound to feel more apprehensive about the whole process.  After graduating in May of 2020, I applied to many internships and jobs alike in the legal field, until I received an offer from a domestic violence agency I previously interned at. I was lucky, as we are all aware of the insinuation that law schools condemn any form of discontinuity on your resume.
 
As a double major in Political Science and Legal Studies, I was able to use the skills I acquired to create a competitive law school application to the best of my ability, but the truth remains the pandemic has created a lot more unpredictability. This sentiment is shared by a lot of my peers as we are working on applications physically separated from the resources usually available, taking the LSAT from us inside our homes, and communicating with professors and mentors via technology. Today, as I wait for my decision letters, I am left with additional questions and concerns about the long-term consequences of the pandemic along with the existing uncertainty of constructing a lucrative legal career.
 
Clare Lonsdale (‘21):  My experience has been one of rethinking and rerouting. This time last year, I was trying to apply to internships that would hopefully lead to a job in Human Resources. I had chosen HR not really as a career path per se but as a way to gain employment after graduation and avoid working in the service industry as I did in high school. My first interview was actually over Zoom at the beginning of Spring Break 2020, right as the pandemic hit. I didn’t get an HR internship, but shortly afterwards I was offered at a job at the local Alzheimer’s nonprofit where I had worked previously. I’ll be working there after graduation, during my gap year. I’ve never really known what I wanted to do after college, which I think is a pretty universal feeling for college students. But the pandemic made me realize I needed to seriously pursue an interest that I have had since I started college-- healthcare reform-- as it is needed in this country.
 
 
*****
 
“...to get out of college quickly...to stay in higher education forever.”
 
For Becca Gullotto, the pandemic prompted her to rethink the path to graduation, for herself and for others.
 
Becca Gullotto (‘21):  In 2018, my friend whispered to me that she was going to try to graduate early. It was the second week of our first semester of college, and we were sitting in an introductory lecture with 300 people. The thought of graduation seemed so far away. I told her she was crazy for trying to get it all done in 3 years. I was excited for college; I did not want to rush it in the slightest. Why would she want to miss out on the college experience? And no I don't mean that college experience, like partying and the dining hall with your friends (not completely at least); I mean the learning part. I wanted ample time to complete internships, create relationships with professors and mentors, to network, and to really understand why I was in college and what I wanted to do.


Then the pandemic happened and I started to look into how I could shave off any costs. I'm paying for college completely through student loans and I started to worry that four years of college might mean a lifetime of debt. Graduating into a recession might lessen my job opportunities. My parents have always told me that everyone will have student loans and that I should just focus on getting my education, but the pandemic has forced these worries to the forefront of my mind. It’s ironic that I’m now trying to get out of college quickly, because my career plan is actually to stay in higher education forever. I want to use my undergraduate Legal Studies degree to pursue a Masters in Higher Ed, to make a difference in college access and equity, because everyone deserves a shot at education--without having to worry about crippling debt.


Three years ago I tried to talk my friend out of cramming her college degree into just three years. Now we'll be at the same Zoom graduation ceremony this Spring.
 
*****
 
 
“...as faculty we will have to respond to reverberating effects…” 
 
Marissa Carrere:  With vaccination on the horizon, my hope is that by the time I figure out how to confidently teach professionalizing in a pandemic, it will no longer be relevant. However, as faculty we will have to keep developing ways to understand and respond to reverberating effects, as we welcome a coming generation of students who will have spent a significant portion of their developmental years in remote learning and under the collective trauma of Covid-19, with social, emotional, and academic consequences that we do not yet know how to measure.
 
The optimistic version of myself wants to believe that--in all these challenges--there is an opportunity to address some of the problems that my students could so incisively identify in the pre-pandemic experience of being a college student and aspiring young professional. Having lived through such wide disruptions to what once seemed an unstoppable pace of resume-building and self-optimization, perhaps we can rethink the ways students are pressured to be on the right timeline and hit ever-receding goalposts. Having seen social inequities so starkly lit by how the pandemic has affected different communities, perhaps we can even more powerfully deconstruct the myths around merit and personal achievement. And having mourned the loss of our time together on campus, perhaps we can reaffirm the value of higher education as a full humanist experience, that is not only about success and attainment, but is also about development of the whole person, in community with others.
 
 
 
0 Comments

Why students of law and justice should read Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower

1/5/2021

0 Comments

 
Picture (image from Grand Central Publishing)
By Claudia Mei Theagene and John McMahon, SUNY Plattsburgh
​
“Butler uses African American history… as a synecdoche for the cycling of racism and sexism throughout all of human history. Butler offers the story of Lauren Olamina and Earthseed as a parable for how we might avoid the "boomeranging" of history. Thus, she teaches us as readers both important lessons about history as well as techniques we might use to survive through the impending environmental, societal, and economic crises that are destined to evolve as a result of our current actions (or inactions)” – Marlene D. Allen
 

​What does Octavia E. Butler’s Afrofuturist novel Parable of the Sower offer to teachers and students of interdisciplinary legal studies? In this post, we draw on our experience as student and teacher in an African American Political Thought course at SUNY Plattsburgh in Fall 2020 in order to articulate how Butler’s novel can be an animating text for studying law and justice. It is not new for many of us to consider the relations between law and literature, law and narrative storytelling, or law and lived experience. With these dynamic discourses in mind, we claim that Butler’s apocalyptic yet utopian speculative fiction is a unique text for legal studies students in its ability to compel readers to reimagine their understanding of and relationship to structures and experiences of oppression, racism, sexism, economic exploitation, climate catastrophe, religion, the state, and ultimately of visions of a more just future.
 
The late scholar of African American literature Gregory J. Hampton summarizes the novel thusly:
Parable of the Sower is both a travelogue narrative and a sort of bible all in one. … In the first section of Parable, entitled "2024," we learn that America has developed new drugs, colonized Mars, and deteriorated into some kind of capitalistic by-product, where "politicians and big corporations get the bread," and the proletariat gets close to nothing. Middle-class people have been forced to surround themselves with protective walls, and the unskilled masses are left as scavengers on the streets of what was once thriving metropolitan areas. It is through [protagonist] Lauren [Olamina’s] observations and opinions about the state of her world and its gods that she begins to construct Earthseed: The Book of the Living. Earthseed is Lauren's formulation of parables that outline a religion that identifies God as change and seeks to propagate itself and humanity throughout the stars.
In this post, we elaborate how this untimely world and ethical journey created by Butler proves edifying for students of law and justice.  

Parable of the Sower will challenge students to think beyond their personal beliefs and what they know. In the long run, it can prepare them for their fight for justice; this is important for any individual looking to enter the legal field and seeking that laws should be applied fairly. Furthermore, the book expands its readers’ interpretation skills through the way it provokes deeper evaluations of daily circumstances. The novel engages numerous topics, such as religion, climate catastrophe, police brutality, racial capitalism, and so on. Discussions involving these issues often cause an individual to automatically turn towards their own views, but Butler implements them in a way that pushes readers to question how close their reality is to the dystopia presented in the novel. 

Interpretation plays a vital part within law, and specifically in constitutional law. For example, precedent refers to previous court cases and rulings that have been made to set the authoritative standard for future cases dealing with the respective dispute. When looking at major landmark Supreme Court cases and the development of the Court’s interpretation of certain amendments (i.e. the commerce clause, necessary and proper clause, enumerated powers, scope of the Fourteenth Amendment, etc.), it is essential to be able to analyze the interpretive frameworks used by successive Justices and track change over time. As time progressed and societal views started to develop, the justice’s interpretation of constitutional laws began to change as well and it was evident within the court decisions. Parable of the Sower challenges readers to decipher, analyze, and acknowledge how society has fallen into a chaotic dystopia. When engaging in judicial interpretation and analysis, those skills can be applied in order to determine whether or not there has been a significant change to the conditions leading to earlier rulings, and to the anticipated consequences of future rulings. 

Alongside building the ability to interpret different ideals, the novel will also expose the reader to oppression in a different light. As stated before, the novel addresses numerous social issues in a non-traditional--at least for many legal studies classrooms--manner. By basing the genre of the novel around science-fiction and placing the setting in the late 2020s, it opens the reader to receiving the social critique the novel presents. When issues such as racism, political corruption, and so on are presented in speeches, essays, journal articles and other non-fiction methods, people who are in a place of privilege and structural power are likely to automatically become defensive and can thus misinterpret, downplay, or ignore the message and purpose of the piece of writing. Fiction may allow a reader to reimagine their reality. For those who are privileged (i.e. males, whites, heterosexuals, able-bodied persons, etc.) reading fiction will assist in the process of acknowledging the different layers of oppression that prevail within the justice system and society overall.

To take one example of the way Butler opens up her readers to interrogating forms of oppression and exploitation, in the novel, racism and economic exploitation constitute one another. We suggest that Butler’s novel elaborates and illustrates the dynamics of racial capitalism, a theory that Georgetown philosopher Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò—drawing on the foundational work of political theorist Cedric Robinson, among others--articulates as analyzing how capitalism “came tethered to a wider set of social arrangements that tended to organise populations into sharp, vertical hierarchies.” These hierarchies “were cemented and maintained by material relations of domination” and by global “forms of social organization,” and continue to operate. Butler challenges her readers to consider how racism and disaster capitalism function together in her projection of 2020s America, a projection that reanimates past forms of oppression.
 
Here, a central moment in the first half of the book is Lauren’s diary entry about the buying out of the nearby town of Olivar by an international firm and its transformation into a privatized, hyper-securitized company town, in which people labor for room, board, and miniscule salary, with labor stratified by race. What makes Olivar’s privatization—a system Lauren calls “debt slavery” and her father calls “half antebellum revival and half science fiction” (122) possible? Lauren tells us that “labor laws, state and federal, are not what they once were” (121). 

Later in the novel, Lauren’s emergent community is joined by a multiracial woman and her daughter, at which point Lauren narrates their experience escaping from a system of debt slavery more extreme than that in Olivar (287-88). Twice, Lauren makes explicit connections between racialized economic oppression in her time and American chattel slavery (218-19; 292). Near the conclusion of the novel the members of the fledgling community discuss how there are increasingly only two kinds of labor: slaves and slave drivers; one of the only alternatives is factories on the US-Canadian border featuring terrible pay and dangerous working conditions (323-24). More broadly, Butler’s novel illustrates the ways that economic, social and environmental collapse disproportionately endangers and exploits BIPOC, and how the logics of these large-scale crises are racialized; this is especially significant for thinking through the racialized impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic. The novel asks us as readers to consider all of this on both a structural and experiential level, provoking us to consider how we see racial capitalism operating in our own world.

Butler connects her interrogation of racial capitalism with a critique of policing as practiced in the context of deregulation and privatization. Lauren narrates police in the universe of Parable as responding late to any calls from impoverished areas (71); as requiring payment to perform even perfunctory investigations of crimes (19; 71; 316-18) as planting evidence in order to “solve” cases (114); as stealing from crime victims (246); and as at best doing nothing to redress—and frequently exacerbating—the ever-present violence committed against poor and racialized communities (51; 229; 236-37). The way Butler ties police violence to broader socioeconomic collapse resonates with analyses in the framework of racial capitalism. The novel thus offers the reader a speculative standpoint on our contemporary debates about race and police violence, a standpoint offering both a systemic critique and an experiential literary account of racialized policing.

These are not the only ways that Parable of the Sower speaks to issues we are likely engaging in our classrooms. The novel also provides routes of entry into considering Black feminist analyses of ecology and environment, intersectional perspectives on disability, migration, race, and capital, feminist theories of power, the gendered and racialized body, and other pertinent questions. More broadly, Butler’s critique of the present and of the future draws on histories of racialized and gendered oppressions to examine time as cyclical, thus “denot[ing] the violent nature of the spiraling of history, especially for African Americans and other marginalized groups.” This has the effect of compelling us to question received notions about constant progress and linear development, and to wonder what dynamics, institutions, and oppressions in our present are leading us to catastrophe. Crucially, however, through Lauren’s cosmology-as-ethical-community Earthseed, Butler also articulates a vision of a just future that breaks out of historical, sociopolitical stasis to imagine what an intersectionally-minded human and environmental flourishing might entail, and what new worlds might (or must) be possible.  

Amid the discussions we are having in our classrooms about racism and racial justice, COVID-19, climate catastrophes, demagoguery, the supposed breakdown of liberal democracy, inequality, individual rights, and the state, it enriches the analysis and critique of students and teachers alike to think with Octavia Butler.  
 
 
Claudia Mei Theagene is a senior at SUNY Plattsburgh, majoring in Political Science and minoring in Africana Studies and in Legal Studies; John McMahon is Assistant Professor of Political Science at SUNY Plattsburgh and a member of the CULJP Board of Directors.


0 Comments

    In the Classroom:
    A Blog about Undergrad Teaching and Learning

    A group blog of the Consortium for Undergraduate Law and Justice Programs. Follow us on Twitter or Facebook for alerts about new posts.

    RSS Feed

    Archives

    March 2022
    January 2022
    June 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    July 2020
    April 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    October 2019
    September 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    April 2018
    May 2017
    April 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    August 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015

    Categories

    All
    Assignments
    Call For Papers
    Classroom Activities
    Conferences
    Constitutional Law
    Criminal Justice
    Graduate School
    Mentoring
    Prelaw Advising
    Primary Sources
    Social Justice
    Syllabi
    Teaching
    Television
    Undergraduate Curriculum And Program Design
    Undergraduate Research

Proudly powered by Weebly