CLE, Lies and Videotape

I was recently speaking with one of this industry’s most respected and beloved CLE professionals, who shall remain nameless (and I mean it this time).  In the course of our conversation, she expressed a common lament – that I’m already happily married.  Or perhaps more accurately, she expressed her continual amazement that some of her volunteer speakers fall short of the mark despite her best efforts to create substantive and relevant CLE offerings.

More often than not, she will select faculty members from amongst a list of leading experts; experienced practitioners who have the specialty certifications, client lists and divorces to prove it.  Furthermore, these faculty members take CLE seriously and put together substantial handout materials that, if read, would greatly expand the average practitioner’s knowledge (and, if printed, would bankrupt the organizer).  On paper, these seminars should be successful.  Yet, too often, they fail more miserably than a North Korean missile test (or the average high schooler in Detroit).  But why?

Because, in many cases, otherwise knowledgeable and conscientious faculty members stammer and stumble through disjointed presentations that they prepare the night before (or more often, in the car on the way to the seminar).  And to be fair, who can blame them?  Most of these faculty members are partners in prestigious law firms, local judges, and law school professors.  In other words, they are top-flight professionals (and judges) who might not have the time it takes to create a coherent and compelling seminar.  After all, it takes weeks to writing and rehearsing before I’m ready to give one of my seminars, so you can just imagine how long it would take to prepare for a good one.

Moreover, why would they put in all of that extra effort when the reviews indicate that they are already doing a "great" job?  Let’s face it.  CLE attendees are notoriously easy graders.  In fact, only Tiger Woods and Secret Service agents in Columbia give out fives more indiscriminately.  For most attendees, so long as the seminar wasn’t a complete waste of time, the presenter will receive a score of 5 out of 5.  If it was a complete waste, they’ll receive a 4 out of 5.

Furthermore, after every seminar, someone will approach the faculty member to tell her how wonderful she was.  Remember, the faculty member is an important person in the legal community (or a judge).  It never hurts to be nice to someone who could possibly put in a good word for your child with a hiring partner, a dean of admissions, or your parole officer.  In contrast, the 99% of the attendees who just spent the last three hours answering e-mails, reviewing documents and/or reconsidering the choice to become a lawyer in the first place, aren’t likely to approach the lecturer to express their disappointment.  And even if so inclined, they probably wouldn’t recognize the speaker in any event. “Are you the one who was boring me for the last three hours?  Well, sir.  Oh, I’m sorry!  Madam, you stink!”

In short, evaluations and attendees lie.  So how do we get our volunteer speakers to see the truth?  By showing it to them.  Increasingly, we are recording our seminars for resale online.  Why not provide your faculty members with a copy of these recordings?  It will make a world of difference and I know this to be true from first-hand experience.

When I first started speaking on this circuit, I believed the lies from attendees and evaluations.  I thought that I was the greatest thing to happen to CLE since the invention of the neck-brace pillow that allows you to sleep while sitting up.  That is, until I made the mistake of watching a recording of one of my talks.  Sadly, videotape doesn’t lie.  Every “um,” “ah,” and awkward gesture was crystal clear; not to mention a disturbing number of wrinkles and blemishes (Damn you, HD!).

In all seriousness, my first thought after seeing the truth was, “I should give the money back.”  Of course, given that I had already spent it, I had to come up with a Plan B – improving my skills as a speaker.  As a result, I joined Toastmasters to eliminate the stammering, stuttering and unnecessary pauses.  I read dozens of books on public speaking and listened to thousands of hours of the best public speakers (i.e., not me).  And most importantly, I found a brand of make-up that hides most of my flaws from the camera (Take that, HD!).

And truthfully, even after almost a decade in this business, I’m still shocked and horrified whenever I watch tapes of even my current speeches. I still find myself sometimes talking too fast, being lazy in my elocution or doing other shockingly amateurish things, like putting my hands in my pockets or leaning lazily against the lectern (or still teaching CLE after ten years).  Yet, I wouldn’t be aware of my obvious shortcomings if I hadn’t been shown these tapes (or married such an intelligent woman).

Likewise, our volunteer speakers aren’t aware of their shortcomings and it’s up to us to show them the “light”; or perhaps, more accurately, the “lights, camera, and action” of their starring role in our CLE programs.  Confronted with indisputable evidence of their inadequacies, your faculty members will be compelled to do what I did – buy their spouse a luxury SUV.  These faculty members will also be compelled to improve their presentations, or at the very least, make better fashion and grooming choices.  Either way, it will be a win-win for our attendees.

The Way to a Speaker's Heart is Through His Ego

Very often, someone will post a helpful suggestion on their blog for improving the quality of our CLE programs. Needless to say, this is not going to be one of those posts. Besides, even if I knew something about giving a quality CLE program, the real challenge would still remain: How to get your volunteer speakers to incorporate the idea into their presentations?

That's why I'm happy to report that I've discovered a solution to our root problem -- motivating volunteer speakers to go that extra mile. And while I'd like to take full credit for this solution, my integrity (and the fact that the true originator of this idea may read my blog) won't allow me to do so. However, since I didn't clear this e-mail with her (nor have I received her approval for my latest ... and outrageous ... expense report), she shall remain nameless. However, let's just say that she is a well-respected CLE professional whom we all know and love and whose name sounds something like "Hina Tughes."

Let me explain: Last week, I gave a full-day seminar for the "fictional" Ms. Tughes in Charlotte. The morning session was well-received and I went to lunch with that mixture of self-satisfaction and pride that explains why my wife relishes my frequent absences from home.

Before resuming the afternoon session, I smugly asked Ms. Tughes, "How are we doing?"

She replied, "Oh, great! And by the way, I just heard from my staff that Stuart Teicher brought the house down in Cary. His reviews are off the charts! People are saying they've never seen anything like it."

"Never seen anything like it? But I was there last year! Are they saying that he's (gulp) better than me?", I thought to myself while pretending to be happy about the "good news".

Now, don't get me wrong. I normally beam with pride when I hear glowing reports about Stuart's seminars.  For one, he's like the little brother that I never wanted (I enjoyed having my own room as a child).  Second, for the last three years, I've falsely claimed sole credit for his success. "Yes, he's good now, but you should have seen him before I discovered him. He was a mess!" 

And while I've always known that Stuart would one day shatter my delusions of grandeur, last Wednesday wasn't going to be that day.  As Hina introduced me to the afternoon crowd, I resolved that I was going to give them the CLE program of their lives. My goal was for at least one attendee to comment that the seminar was better than sex (or at least, better than Stuart's).   And for the next three hours, I didn't just teach legal ethics, I preached it ... and with the fervor of Billy Graham, T.D. Jakes and that homeless guy outside of your local Starbucks ... combined.  At one point, I had the audience shouting "Hallelujah!", "Amen!" and passing around a collection plate.  By the end of the session, I was physically drained but I left the building with the knowledge that I had given my absolute best (and with $9.68 in "love offerings").

And let's be clear: I don't think that Ms. Tughes was trying to manipulate me by falsely inflating Stuart's morning evaluations; although I hereby request certified copies of such evaluations just to be sure. In all likelihood, Hina probably assumed that I possessed the magnanimity and maturity that would allow me to revel in a friend's success. Well, her "naivety" might just point the way for the rest of us to motivate our volunteer speakers by hitting them where it really hurts -- in the ego.

By nature, speakers are competitive and ego-driven; and so are lawyers. After all, many of them work in law firms that are the embodiment of Darwin's "survival of the id-est." Their egos are precious commodities that they will go to any length to maintain. In fact, I'm convinced that the following phone call would work wonders with a volunteer:

"Hello, Mr. Smith, I'm so glad you agreed to speak at our upcoming IP summit. I really expect your presentation to be well-received because last year, we had [your local nemesis] and the audience absolutely loved her. Now, don't worry. No one is expecting [the things a good presenter does] in your talk. After all, she is a partner at [the most prestigious law firm in town], so no one is expecting the same level of excellence from you. That being said, I'm sure the audience will appreciate whatever you can do to [repeat the things a good speaker does]."

The volunteer who receives this kind of "gentle nudging" will respond in one of two ways: (1) He will spend every waking moment honing his presentation to prove once and for all that he is every bit as good as those "jerks" at the law firm of Stuckup, Arrogant and Fullofit; or (2) He will call your boss to have you fired. Either way, you win; and so do your attendees. And, by the way, so does the volunteer speaker. It's no fun for them to speak to an audience where half of the attendees are checking e-mail, organizing their files and/or playing Angry Birds on their iPads, and the other half are mad that they didn't attend the "good seminar" across the state in Cary. Trust me on this point!

What Balloon Boy Taught Me About CLE

Yesterday, I was hard at work doing the job of a legal humorist (i.e., watching YouTube videos while trying to keep the 2-year-old from his latest chew toy -- my iPhone). However, my diligence was interrupted by a chirp from my iPhone. After wresting it away from Devin (and drying it with my wife's hair dryer), I learned that the Associated Press had sent me an urgent alert. It read: "6-year-old Floats Away in Runaway Balloon."

As a parent, my first thought was: "Why didn't I think of that? I bet that Dad is watching YouTube videos right now! And I bet his iPhone is dry too!" However, my second thought was one of empathy. I could imagine the fear and agony that any loving parent would experience during such a situation. For the next three hours, I obsessively followed this story on television, radio and over the Internet. And judging from the constant chatter on Twitter and Facebook, I wasn't alone. It seemed that the whole country was holding its collective breath for his safe return.

Fortunately, we were all able to breath of collective sigh of relief when we learned that the little boy was found safe and sound in his own attic. Apparently, he had never boarded the balloon in the first place, something that we might have all discovered millions of collective work hours earlier if anyone in our media would have bothered to ask something as simply as, "Did anyone actually see the boy climb inside the balloon?" Herein lies in the problem with our modern media ... and CLE.

In a strange coincidence, while the entire American workforce was being as unproductive as well, the American workforce, the best and brightest minds in CLE were assembled in Scottsdale, Arizona for a summit on the critical issues facing our industry. And while I wasn't able to attend the summit (largely because I wasn't invited to the summit ... but I'm not bitter), they were gracious enough to provide a webcast of the plenary sessions for the "peanut gallery." In fact, the conference organizers even made the 600 pages of conference materials available online. Thus, allowing us commoners to take away much of the experience of the live attendees sans the hernia from lugging around a 600-page conference binder (okay, maybe I'm a little bitter).

However, as I perused the conference materials (I'll actually get around to reading all 600 pages, I really will), it became clear that we are in danger of falling into the same trap as the news media -- using technological advancements as a substitute for fundamental competence. Let me explain.

In hindsight, it was comical to see Wolf Blitzer and the other geniuses in the "Situation Room" using the most sophisticated tools to track and monitor the flight and landing of an empty balloon. It was the height of breaking news, all except for the part about getting the facts straight. However, in the Situation Room, there's no time for facts. After all, they have situations to cover.

Likewise, my fear is that we are developing the same mindset with respect to CLE. We are in such a hurry to implement technology that we may be ignoring the fundamentals. I think this is most evident in the almost universal disdain for the "talking head" presentation. We constantly decry the lecture format as being archaic, especially in relation to new lawyers.

Yet, the truth of the matter is that the lecture format has been instrumental in passing down information from generation to generation since the beginning of time. Before there was a printing press, an Internet or a Situation Room, there was the oral tradition. Almost everything that is known today has been passed down by "talking heads." Does it make sense that we can do away without them now because we have Twitter?

If you think so, then perhaps you should have been following yesterday's Twitter feed about the whereabouts of Balloon Boy. Depending upon who you happened to be following on Twitter, he was inside the balloon, riding in a basket below it, surfing atop of it or flying alongside of it. Later, when the balloon was discovered to be empty, the Twitterazzi was just as varied in its reports of the boy's whereabouts. He was reported to be everywhere from his attic in Fort Collins to the basement of Phil Collins (for you Gen Yers, he was a pop singer back in the days when people actually sang).

In short, Twitter is a great interactive tool; provided that there is an underlying basis of knowledge to serve as a framework for the discussion. In that same vain, interactive CLE (whether via Twitter or live breakout discussions) is only as useful as the underlying knowledge of those in attendance and that knowledge can be greatly enhanced by a so-called talking head.

Now, as someone who has attended 500 CLE conferences in 40 states, I must admit that talking heads don't always fulfill this role. In most cases, my first question in the Q&A session is, "Why did you bother to show up -- to personally escort your PowerPoint slides to the conference?" Of course, I never ask such a question as it would: (1) constitute a breach of professional courtesy; and (2) require me to be awake at the end of the presentation to do so.

Yet, the fact that many lectures fall short of the mark doesn't mean that we should throw out the baby with my soggy iPhone (as much as I might like to). Instead, we should get back to the fundamentals of providing our attendees with presenters who can deliver the goods in terms of both content AND delivery. We should insist that our presenters know their stuff. Furthermore, they should have the ability to relate their information in a way that it makes an impact on the audience. And if they don't, we should train them to do so.

And while the latter requirement seems like a tall order, it isn't nearly as difficult as, say, sleeping with your eyes open as a panelist at an ethics seminar (trust me on this one). All it requires is a commitment to stress the fundamentals of effective communication -- telling compelling stories. As any great trial lawyer will tell you, the key to winning a case is to tell a story that compels the jury to side with your client. In the same way, the key to winning over a CLE audience is to tell a story that compels them to ingest the knowledge being put forth and then incorporate it into their practice afterwards.

Isn't that what every great communicator does -- tells a story? Dr. King told a story of a dream he had. President Reagan told a story of a city on a hill. In fact, our current president was completely unknown five years ago until he told a story of a skinny kid with a funny name who believed that America had a place for him too. And don't think that this principle just applies at large political events. Every weekend, I walk into a funny-shaped building to hear a "talking head" deliver a sermon that ... you guessed it ... contains a story.

And if you think that CLE is somehow different, think back to the greatest CLE presenter ever -- Irving Younger. Despite the fact that Professor Younger died more than 20 years ago, his programs are still among the most popular around today. Why? Because he mastered the art of PowerPoint, relentlessly promoted Twitter hash tags, or set up a jamming Facebook fan page? Or perhaps, it's because he mastered the art of story telling.

Now, I'm not suggesting that all of your presenters can achieve the legendary status of an Irving Younger (or a humorist in Mesa), but I am suggesting that they can greatly enhance the value of their presentations. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that if they don't start telling good stories, the quality of CLE will continue to decline. This is true, regardless of how adapt we become at incorporating the latest technology.

The disaster of PowerPoint proves this point. Over the last two decades, PowerPoint has become a mainstay (and the bane) of CLE presentations. As presenters focused more on visual aids, they focused less on the underlying content. They thought that the slides would do the work for them. Likewise, I fear that we are now falling into the trap of thinking that "interactivity" will do the work for us.

Now, don't get me wrong. PowerPoint can be a great tool to enhance understanding of the material but it is no substitute for competent presentation of that material. Likewise, the current push for interactivity can enhance the educational experience, but it can't replace the fundamental component -- a competent and compelling faculty.

Therefore, unless we refocus our efforts on shoring up the fundamental skills of our presenters, we will be just like yesterday's media -- expending great time and resources following an empty trend.

Can I get an amen?

I Had a Nightmare ...

Matt Homann has initiated an interesting discussion in the Continuing Legal Education Speakers group on Linkedin.com.  He asked for opinions regarding PowerPoint, which I considered to be one of the world's greatest evils, along with poverty, disease and VH1's fascination with Flavor Flav.  Given my strong feelings on the matter, I couldn't help but throw my two cents in (all I can afford in this economy).

And while I'm tempted to simply paste my convincing (and oh so witty) remarks here for your consideration (and great amusement), sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words.  Therefore, I present the ultimate argument against the use of PowerPoint -- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s long lost PowerPoint slides from his I Have a Dream Speech.

I rest my case!

Move Over Jon Stewart ... Here I Come

You Know the Media is in Trouble When I Become Part of It

My entry into a field of endeavor usually spells the beginning of the end for the field and its institutions.  I ushered in the rise of online brokerage services by joining an offline broker in the early 1990s.  I popped the tech bubble by purchasing my first Internet stock in February 2000.  I later brought on the current financial collapse by working for one of the nation's largest subprime lenders.  Every company or law firm for which I've ever worked has eventually gone out of business.  The only institution that I haven't destroyed by my mere presence is the institution of marriage, which was already ruined when I got to it.

That being said, here is my debut on the Legal Broadcast Network, reporting "live" from the Sotomayor hearings in Washington, D.C.  The countdown to the collapse of the news business can now begin.

Video Homage to CLE Workers

My previous blog entry inspired the creation of the following video.  With the vocal talents of my podcast co-host, rap partner-in-crime and fellow CLE presenter, Stuart Teicher, I put together this music video in tribute to my sisters (and sometimes, brothers) in the struggle.

And if you like the video, make sure that you subscribe to the Two Lawyers in a [Pod]cast show, where we will be unveiling the LP version of the song later this week.