Con Law by Mark Gimenez Page A

the rankings. If word gets out that one of our tenured faculty members voted for Bush, we’ll be a joke in the Academy. Our reputation among our peers—which accounts for twenty-five percent of our
U.S. News
ranking, I remind you—will take a dive. Do you want that?’
    UT law school had dropped from fourteenth to sixteenth in the latest
U.S. News and World Report
law school rankings; panic had ensued. Twenty years before,
U.S. News
began the rankings. At first, the rankings were viewed by the Academy as amusing anecdotes; today, the rankings are viewed as critical to a law school’s success. Move up in the rankings, and celebrations begin in the faculty lounge; move down, and heads roll. Prospective law students decide which schools to apply to based upon the rankings; thus, rankings drive applications; and applications put butts in seats worth $30,000 to $50,000 each. With so much money riding on the rankings, some schools had gamed their reports to achieve higher rankings, inflating their Law School Admission Test numbers, including among ‘graduates known to be employed nine months after graduation’ those grads working at Starbucks because they couldn’t find legal jobs, and even hiring their own unemployed grads for short-term stints spanning February 15—the effective date for the schools’ reports—so those students could be counted as employed. Rankings now drive every decision made in law schools across America.
    ‘If we hope to move up in the rankings, we must hire and grant tenure to star professors,’ Professor Goldman said.
    ‘And all the stars come from Harvard and Yale?’
    ‘They’re sure as hell not Republicans from UT.’
    ‘But we’re top ten in football,’ Professor Al Harvey (UT, 1985, Property Law) said. ‘Can’t be tops in football and law.’
    ‘Tell the alumni that,’ Professor Goldman said.
    ‘Did you see the spring game? The team’s looking good.’
    ‘Shut up, Al.’
    ‘I’m just saying.’
    ‘Jonah,’ Book said, ‘this isn’t about rankings.’
    ‘Everything’s about rankings. If we grant tenure to Henry, we’ll be lucky to stay in the top tier. Are we going to be the Harvard of the Southwest or not?’
    ‘Not. Jonah, we’re chasing Harvard and Yale in the rankings even though we all know the methodology employed by
U.S. News
is flawed and their results laughable. I’ve got a better idea: let’s drop out of the rankings.’
    ‘You’vegone mad! If we take ourselves out of the rankings game, we’ll never hire another Harvard or Yale graduate.’
    ‘Good.’
    Jonah Goldman’s pale face turned bright red, which clashed with his brown suit. Book figured, what the hell, might as well go all the way.
    ‘Jonah, you’re living in the past. But our students will live in the future, so this school must look to the future. And that future will not be made following in the footsteps of Harvard and Yale. It will be made by cutting our own path right here in Texas. Therefore, I propose that we refuse to participate in the rankings. I propose that we teach our students to be real lawyers. And I propose the best person I know to lead this school into that future: Henry Lawson. I propose Henry for tenure and to be our next assistant dean.’
    ‘Fine,’ Professor Goldman said. ‘All in favor of Professor Bookman’s proposals, raise your hands.’
    Book stuck his hand defiantly in the air and waited for reinforcements … and waited. Four other hands finally went up, all from the UT professors. But no Harvard or Yale hand. Or Columbia. Or Stanford. Or the others. Professor Goldman turned to Book with the smug look of the rich boy in grade school who always got the best toys money could buy.
    ‘Your propositions fail, Professor Bookman.’
    Book dropped down in his chair. Institutional inertia prevailed. Fear of the future. Professors hanging on to the past. Hoping the past lasts until they retire with full benefits. The school would continue to chase Harvard and Yale