BPTC: We Need Scores on the Doors

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.