Oliver Wendell Holmes, the great Supreme Court justice and legal scholar, sagely observed that “the life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience.” Unfortunately, the California Committee of Bar Examiners does not seem to have gotten the message.
Twice in the past two years, the bar examiners announced that 17-year-old applicants had passed the bar examination, to be sworn in as lawyers upon reaching 18. It is an accomplishment to pass the notoriously difficult California bar exam “at any age,” said Leah Wilson, executive director of the state bar, “and to do so at 17 is truly exceptional.”
The two youngsters absolutely deserve congratulations on their achievements, which were reported in the national press, but this is not something to be celebrated.
I don’t doubt the brainpower and studiousness of the teenagers, a brother and sister, born a year apart, who began their law studies while still in middle school. Nonetheless, it is simply impossible for even the most book-smart 18-year-old to have acquired the life experience necessary for the competent practice of law.
As all attorneys learn early in their careers, law practice involves far more than knowing legal principles and understanding their application. Law practice is above all a discipline of human interactions, requiring judgment, communication, responsibility and prudence while anticipating the potential consequences of every decision a lawyer makes.
As Holmes explained, lawyering demands more than applying the “axioms and corollaries of a book of mathematics.”
At ages 17 and under, Californians cannot vote, marry (without parental permission), operate heavy equipment, get tattooed (even with parental permission), file a lawsuit without a guardian or purchase spray paint or cough medicine.
At 18, they still cannot buy alcohol or tobacco, obtain an interstate commercial driving license, become an airline transport pilot, qualify as a professional fiduciary, deal blackjack in a casino or purchase handgun ammunition.
Given teenagers’ propensity for misadventure, their automobile crash rates are four times higher than those of adults, leading to average insurance surcharges of 100 percent or more.
In a New York Times interview, the young woman explained that she passed a high school equivalency exam and took online college courses while also attending law school, beginning at age 13. Her legal education consisted mostly of “independent study” at her desk in the family “study room.”
She expressed no regrets over foregoing typical “high school and college experiences,” such as parties and sports events.
That misses the point. High school and college (and law school) experiences are more profound than just social events. These are the years when students reach maturity; experimenting with ideas and relationships and undertaking new responsibilities that will eventually define their understanding of the world.
Cramming 11 years of personal growth into five years of desktop study — from ages 13 to 17 — cannot adequately prepare anyone for the demands of practicing law, no matter how good they are at test-taking.
Both brother and sister are working in the Tulare County prosecutor’s office. He is already a lawyer, having turned 18 last year. Still a law clerk, she will be admitted to the bar after her birthday next March.
Their boss, district attorney Tim Ward, said the siblings’ “amazing accomplishments speak for themselves,” and boasted of helping them reach “their professional dreams.”
In fact, prosecution may be one of the worst jobs for teenage lawyers.
Prosecutors exercise enormous discretion in their work. They must evaluate the persuasiveness of evidence, assess the credibility of witnesses, provide emotional support to victims and determine the relative culpability of offenders. This calls for insight and judgment beyond the capacity of teenagers, while the fate of others hangs in the balance.
There may be private clients who would risk retaining such young attorneys. But victims and defendants are involuntary participants in the justice system. It is unfair to put their futures in the hands of a prosecutor who wouldn’t be trusted to rent a car from most companies.
Perhaps Ward plans to limit his proteges to preparing papers and researching motions. If so, what’s the rush?
There are true prodigies whose unique talents benefit from intense development from an early age. But law practice is not music or gymnastics. It is basically a job. It can be rewarding, fulfilling and socially productive, but apart from transient novelty, there is no advantage to starting young.
At ages 13 and 14, the two siblings enrolled at the entirely online Northwestern California University School of Law. The school’s website says it is “accredited by the State Bar of California,” which is accurate but misleading. It is not accredited by the American Bar Association and its graduates are ineligible for law licenses in nearly every other state.
Moreover, only California and Indiana recognize fully online law degrees, placing another severe limitation on Northwestern California University School of Law graduates’ mobility.
Those restrictions aren’t flagged on the Northwestern California University School of Law website, and no adolescent applicant would comprehend the different tiers of accreditation among California law schools. The siblings may now intend to practice only in California, but that is not a lifetime commitment adolescents can reliably make.
Given their academic chops, the siblings surely could have attended one of California’s many top law schools if they had waited a few years to apply. That would have led to a more valuable diploma, a superior education and a network of classmates and fellow alumni who could open doors and provide mutual support for the rest of their lives. Instead, they sacrificed vastly expanded career opportunities for a few years head start.
Not every law school graduate passes the California bar exam; its 2024 failure rate was 44 percent. The precocious siblings, purposely left unnamed, cannot be faulted for their remarkable initiative — teenagers, by their nature, often strive to grow up too soon — but that does not absolve the reckless adults who enabled them.
Steven Lubet is the Williams Memorial Professor Emeritus at the Northwestern University Pritzker School of Law.
