<p><span><span><a name="_Hlk108421754"><span>The end of the academic year is a natural time for reflection. As I complete my fifth year teaching Lawyering Skills at Boston University School of Law, I am taking time to reflect on my experience. I came to teaching mid-career, after practicing in the litigation group at a Boston firm for fifteen years. I enjoyed mentoring and training junior associates, so teaching was a logical next step.

<p><span><span><span><span><span>As a Legal Writing professor, I am always looking ahead to how my students will use what they have learned in my class when they are eventually asked to apply those skills in their other classes, clinics, internships, and jobs. And yet, I find it easy to lose sight of the importance of transfer in the midst of all the other demands of my course.

<p><span><span><span><span><span>In the Spring of 2020, one of my first-year legal writing students introduced me to the Underground Scholars Language Guide for Communicating About People Involved in the Carceral System (“Language Guide”).<a href="#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"><span><span><span>[1]</span></span></span></a> I was not familiar with the Language Guide, or the terms included in it, but I immediately understood its value as a tool for eliminating bias and vowed to use it in my classroom the following y

<p><span><span><span><span><span>The law school admissions process identifies a group of people that to a large degree have the same level of academic capability.

<p><span><span><span>Several months ago, a Touro colleague and I were talking about ourselves as writers and about our writing—published and unpub­lished. My colleague expressed interest in reading some of my work; I took this as a compliment. “Fine,” I said. “And I’d like to read some of your work, too.” </span></span></span></p>

<p><span><span><span>I write, yet again, from the once uninhabited corner of my New York City living room that is now my office/classroom/yoga studio/homeschool hub. Formerly, it was known as a bookshelf. It is over two years into a pandemic that has crystallized the razor’s edge upon which we exist, skirting the periphery of the random chasm of death, all the while indulging the urgent desire to be alive. As we cycle through the Greek alphabet with terrifying speed, Omicron now looms large.

<p><span><span><span><span><span><span>Looking for an effective self-assessment tool for your students’ first IRAC<a href="#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"><span><span><span>[1]</span></span></span></a> assignment? We were too. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>

<p><span><span><span><span><span>As the COVID-19 pandemic pushed our students behind their screens, finding ways to connect with them became increasingly important not only for their learning of legal writing and research skills, but to help them feel support and care during extremely stressful and lonely times.

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<p><span><span><span><a name="_Hlk72128837"></a></span></span></span></p>

<p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>[1]</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span> The author thanks Erin Carroll and Nicholas Fuenzalida for super editing suggestions. </span></span></span></p>

<ol>
<li><span><span><strong><span>Introduction</span></strong></span></span></li>
</ol>

<p><span><span>Judge Gerald Lebovits remarked that “good legal writing is clear, concise, and engaging in ways unheard of in college.”<a href="#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"><span><span><span><span>[1]</span></span></span></span></a>&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></p>