Outside of London the BPTC will set you back £12,000. Inside London, you're looking at closer to £15,000. Add a few thousand more on for living. The costs involved in pursuing a career at the Bar are frightening; but when you consider how many actually pass the course, the costs are enough to trigger a panic attack.
BPTC providers don't tend to publish their results. With good reason, too. See, according to one of my well placed sources, at one leading provider, twenty five per cent of students fail the BPTC. One in four of the mugs who have parted with upwards of £12,000 will fail. The Bar isn't so much a brave career choice, as a foolish one.
Of course, this is where the difference between big bucks corporate education providers and universities is most pronounced. University tutors remain in academia through a geniune infatuation with their subject. Tutors at the big bucks places turn to academia because they're tired of practice; teaching seems sensible. Universities flaunt their academic expertise- their results- because they want to attract the best students. Big bucks places keep schtum because they want to attract everyone. Big bucks places are about the bucks.
It is naieve to think that big bucks places will ever change their core values; plus, this would be an impossible thing to police. What would be easy to police, however, is a requirement that BPTC providers publish their results. Then candidates may make an informed decision about their prospects of passing the course and the quality of the provider's teaching. It's surprisingly simple: at every other stage of our academic careers we have been provided with league table after league table. Why? Because it allows us to make an informed decision; the past academic success of any institution is of direct relevance as we decide whether to embark on studies there. So, why, at the most expensive stage of our academic careers are we denied this information? And, what is more, why do we keep so quiet about it? It's time we started shouting. There's real- frighteningly real- money at stake.
Sunday 4 December 2011
Wednesday 25 May 2011
Pupillage Interviews: The Truth
They're not that bad. Not that I've secured a pupillage yet, mind. But, still, not that bad.
Non one's taken great pleasure in tripping me up, either in argument or, even, in a physical sense as I entered the room. Everyone has been pleasant.
Because I had, as I assume you have, heard the stories. The whispered tones, the way that the storyteller won't give you a straight answer when you ask 'at which chambers were you immersed, new suit and polished shoes, into the Temple fountain before being paraded along Fleet Street, wet and drowned and despondent?' I think, I fear, that my sources may have been exaggerating.
But 'not bad' doesn't mean 'not difficult'. The questions were difficult. They've tested my logic, pushed me (gently, though) on a point, given me an advocacy exercise (argue for X, argue against X) and even asked me some HR type questions ('when have you displayed leadership qualities?). That last one- leadership- was impossible. There was no way to answer it without making myself sound like I thought myself some kind of messianic diplomat or, in a simpler term, an arse.
And I know what you may be thinking. Oh, well, whoever is writing this clearly demonstrated the aptitude of- I don't know, you can fill in that- and the interviewing chambers felt sorry for the spectacularly poor applicant and gave them an easy time. This may, indeed, be true for some of my applications; but not, however, for all. I made it through to the final four or five candidates for half of my applications so far. My experiences of the pupillage selection process are, to a point, reliable.
Really, all I wanted to say was this: the interviews really aren't that bad. The interviewing barristers seem to be very nice people indeed.
None nice enough yet to offer me a pupillage. But, anyway.
Non one's taken great pleasure in tripping me up, either in argument or, even, in a physical sense as I entered the room. Everyone has been pleasant.
Because I had, as I assume you have, heard the stories. The whispered tones, the way that the storyteller won't give you a straight answer when you ask 'at which chambers were you immersed, new suit and polished shoes, into the Temple fountain before being paraded along Fleet Street, wet and drowned and despondent?' I think, I fear, that my sources may have been exaggerating.
But 'not bad' doesn't mean 'not difficult'. The questions were difficult. They've tested my logic, pushed me (gently, though) on a point, given me an advocacy exercise (argue for X, argue against X) and even asked me some HR type questions ('when have you displayed leadership qualities?). That last one- leadership- was impossible. There was no way to answer it without making myself sound like I thought myself some kind of messianic diplomat or, in a simpler term, an arse.
And I know what you may be thinking. Oh, well, whoever is writing this clearly demonstrated the aptitude of- I don't know, you can fill in that- and the interviewing chambers felt sorry for the spectacularly poor applicant and gave them an easy time. This may, indeed, be true for some of my applications; but not, however, for all. I made it through to the final four or five candidates for half of my applications so far. My experiences of the pupillage selection process are, to a point, reliable.
Really, all I wanted to say was this: the interviews really aren't that bad. The interviewing barristers seem to be very nice people indeed.
None nice enough yet to offer me a pupillage. But, anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)