March 2010

True Grit

by WSBA President Salvador A. Mungia

I would have likened her odds to that of the proverbial snowball’s chance in hell. And you know what? I doubt that you would have disagreed with me.

You see, her life was tougher than the steak special at Denny’s. Black, poor, and being raised by a mom who gave birth to her at age 15. No father — he died before she was born — the story she was told was that he was ill and local Seattle hospitals refused to treat a young black man until he got to Harborview — and then it was too late.

This led to a lot of questions when she was young. Why don’t I have a dad? Why are we poor? Why don’t I have what other kids have? Why do the other kids treat me differently? Then she saw “Roots”[1] at age 12. “Why would something like that happen?” She just couldn’t comprehend how human beings could treat other human beings that way. It was too much for her. She literally went inside a closet for three days trying to answer the question “why.”

She asked her favorite uncle these questions, and more. He couldn’t answer her questions. He did, however, tell her that she needed to go to college. She should become either a member of Congress or a lawyer. They could change things — they could help other people. She knew that was her path.

And then the gods (or were they demons) must have had a peculiar sense of humor — must have wanted to ensure that this young girl would never realize her dreams. At age 13, she got pregnant and gave birth to her daughter, Tameka.

Thirteen years old and a parent — are you kidding me? When I was thirteen, I was delivering newspapers, playing with my neighborhood friends, taking care of my dog — which, frankly, I didn’t do such a great job of doing. Raise a child — getoutofhere.

Female, black, poor, and a thirteen-year-old mother — I know this isn’t news to you but most thirteen-year-old girls who fit that description don’t end up being lawyers. If I had a kid when I was thirteen, I’d be earning my living through physical labor, just like my mom and dad before me, and just like their parents before them.

But she had one thing going for her — she was determined. She had the determination of Olympic marathoner John Akhwari.[2] She stayed in school — not her school but an “alternative” school, and ultimately finished high school. She tried going to a community college. But she came to the fork so many before her had faced: follow her dreams and risk her child’s welfare or give up those dreams to devote her life to her child’s success. Tameka came first. She wouldn’t go to college, well, at least not yet. She did promise herself that when Tameka went to college, she would go with her.

And she did. Eleven years later, both mother and daughter went to the UW together. Having already had some college credits, she graduated before Tameka. She was ready to fulfill her delayed dream. But determination will only get you so far — here, it got her as far as filling out the blanks on the application forms and submitting them. And that’s as far as it got her. Her applications to the University of Washington and Seattle University law schools were both denied. She had good grades — a 3.5 GPA. But her LSAT scores were below where she needed them to be — not by a whole lot, but enough to keep the key to her dreams just out of her reach.

She was crushed. Life wasn’t fair — hey, that’s a novel thought for her. But then again, if life were fair, there wouldn’t be wheelchairs.

She went back to school and got a second degree, hoping that addition would get her accepted. She applied again.

If you want to see change, change the way you do things.

A lot of institutions talk of their desire to become more diverse. Yet they get on the same train, taking the same route, and end up at the same destination year after year, and wonder why the landscape hasn’t changed.

Seattle University School of Law got serious about changing its landscape. It started taking a different train years ago. As a result, it changed its own landscape and, in turn, has helped change the landscape of our legal profession.

The Academic Resource Center’s (ARC) Alternative Admissions Program at Seattle University was started in 1987. ARC’s goal is not only to admit diverse and non-traditional students into SU School of Law but also to help them succeed. But as ARC’s director, Professor Paula Lustbader, will tell you, the program is for SU’s benefit — it enhances the education SU provides its students by exposing and sensitizing them to multicultural issues. As Professor Lustbader tells the students admitted into the ARC program: “You are here to bring something only you can bring.”

Don’t think that SU is willing to sacrifice its standing in the education rankings — it won’t. Making sure that its graduation rates don’t fall, its bar passage rates don’t suffer, its alumni succeed (you don’t get donations from your graduates who don’t have jobs) are just as important to SU as they are to every other law school.

For those applicants whose test scores and GPA are a little lower (too far out of the range and you won’t get considered — like I said, a law school still has to ensure that it succeeds, and for that to happen, it has to have reasonable assurances that the people it is admitting will succeed), they get a second look by Professor Lustbader and her colleagues at the ARC Program. The ARC admissions group reviews about 400 applications a year knowing that they will send out acceptance letters to about one in ten applicants. They look beyond grades and GPA — they consider life experiences, hardships that had to be overcome, work experiences, what is driving the applicant into becoming a lawyer. Professor Lustbader spends around 200 hours going through all the applications. As she commented, “I should get a bonus when I add it up this way.”

SU’s commitment to these students doesn’t stop after they are admitted. They take part in a mandatory seven-week summer course taught by Professor Lustbader and Professor Dave Boerner[3] that combines criminal law, legal writing, and study strategies, that takes place in the summer before the start of the first-year classes. (Other first-year students can take the criminal law class as well — but it’s optional for them.) The ARC students do more than that, however; they meet from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon five days a week during the summer. They take six practice exams and receive regular feedback. They are taught how to outline and how to synthesize material. They become a community.

SU isn’t the only one who stepped up to the plate — a program like this isn’t cheap. An attorney in our state, who wishes to remain anonymous, has donated over six million dollars to the ARC program to give those with a lot of determination and talent the opportunity to change their lives — and hopefully the lives of others. That’s more than just stepping up to the plate — that’s hitting the freaking ball out of the ballpark.

Sometimes the snowball wins.

She was in the shower when the mail came. Horace shouted that a letter from SU came in the mail. She said she wasn’t going to get out of the shower — she was too scared that it was a rejection letter. She didn’t think she could handle a second rejection. Horace opened the letter and told her — “acceptance.” Normally as calm as a cavern pool, she screamed. Then she cried the tears of a little girl who, years ago, holed up in the closet asking “why.” The dream deferred would no longer be deferred.

Carla Lee graduated from Seattle University School of Law and joined the Washington State Bar in 2006. She’s been in private practice since then in Seattle. I’ve known Carla since 2007, when the Board of Governors elected her to join the BOG as the Young Lawyers Division representative. When Carla first told me her story, I was inspired. I still am. I’m not the only one. Carla has shared her story with others — many of whom are young women and men who no doubt have gained courage, determination, and hope from hearing her tell her story.

Carla readily admits: “I don’t know if I would be here if it weren’t for that program.” Seattle University, and the anonymous donor, made that possible. The quality of Seattle University has not been sacrificed — just the opposite: ARC, and the students admitted through ARC, have made SU a better school. Carla is a success story. That’s the happy ending. The not-so-happy ending: how many Carlas are out there who never get the chance?

For those of you who want your institutions to be more reflective of our community at large, it can be done. It can be done without compromising the quality of your people. It can be done without compromising the quality of your product. It will, however, require you to stop doing business as usual.

You can do it. You just have to have the courage to stop taking the same train, with the same route, as you have done in the past. If you do, you’ll find a new landscape just waiting for you. And the landscape is beautiful. 

WSBA President Salvador Mungia can be reached at smungia@gth-law.com.

NOTES
 1.  A 1977 television dramatization of author Alex Haley’s family line from ancestor Kunta Kinte’s enslavement to his descendents’ liberation.
 2.  In the 1968 Olympics held in Mexico City, Tanzanian marathon runner John Stephen Akhwari was the last runner in the marathon. He came in about an hour and a half after the winner, hobbling on his bloodied and bandaged leg. When asked why he didn’t quit, he said, “You don’t understand. My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start a race, they sent me to finish it.”
3. Professor Boerner retired from full-time teaching after 2009 but is planning on continuing to teach the ARC summer program. ARC alums, showing their appreciation of Professor Boerner and the ARC program, have started a fund to create an ARC Professorship.