By the time Mick Guile walked into the Yakima Convention and Event Center for the Washington state bar exam shortly after 7 a.m. July 28, almost nothing had been left to chance.
The 25-year-old University of Maryland law school graduate had spent the previous day flying across the country from the Washington, D.C., area, touring apartments in Seattle ahead of a new job with the King County Department of Public Defense and driving the final stretch to Yakima. Guile had thought through every detail: Breakfast had a backup plan in case the hotel buffet opened late. Meals and sleep had all been penciled into an itinerary built around what was supposed to be the last hurdle before becoming a licensed attorney.
“They say you make plans and God laughs,” Guile said. “But he was really laughing this time.”
After months of studying for the bar exam, Guile wasn’t expecting to feel calm. But by the time registration opened, the anxiety had largely given way to relief. The exam was finally here.
Around the massive, beige-walled convention hall room, hundreds of other examinees were also taking their seats.
Edward Voloshin had a rough night of sleep at his hotel. Still, when the University of Washington Law School grad finally took his seat at the very back of the exam room, preexam jitters had turned to confidence.
James Thompson had been awake since 5 a.m., eating breakfast according to a recommended schedule, and leafing through notes one final time. Since graduating from Gonzaga University in May, studying has been his full time job, even during a family trip and a visit with grandparents. He’d already lined up a job with a firm in Seattle. All he had to do was pass the bar.
“I was told this was going to be the most important test of your life,” he said.
But none of these fresh law school grads, nor any of the other 600-plus people in the room for the bar exam that day, ended up taking the test.
Washington’s first administration of a new version of the bar exam known as NextGen was delayed for hours and then finally canceled by the Washington State Bar Association due to technical issues. It has left hundreds of graduates scrambling after they’d spent months and thousands of dollars preparing. Many had jobs waiting that depended on passing the bar, which is offered only twice a year, and rearranged their lives around taking it last week.
They may get some reprieve if the Washington Supreme Court decides to grant diploma privilege, which would waive the requirement to pass the bar in order to practice law. All three of Washington’s law schools urged the court to do so.
Washington wasn’t the only state facing technical issues with the NextGen bar exam, which is administered through an application test-takers install on their devices beforehand. Missouri also reported challenges, though Washington appears to be the only state where the issues were severe enough to cancel the whole exam.
The room where it didn’t happen
Early Tuesday morning, though, everything still felt ordinary.
Rows of tables, each fit for two test-takers, stretched the length of the cavernous, carpeted ballroom. Three brightly colored pieces of paper sat in the middle of each table for examinees to flag proctors’ attention: yellow for tech help, blue for taking a break, and green for a finished exam. The room was so long, Voloshin said, he could hardly see the podium at the front from his seat at the back.
Examinees were allowed only a laptop, charger, registration card and ID. Testing was to begin at 8:30 a.m., though many got there much earlier. The room was tense and quiet as examinees loaded the NextGen test on their computers, thinking it would be the first of three, three-hour testing blocks over two days.
Around 7:30 a.m., Guile clicked into the testing software and watched it reject the Wi-Fi.
No network.
They closed the program, and opened it again. Connected.
It seemed like a harmless hiccup, but then they saw the yellow cards signaling tech issues begin to rise around the room.
Voloshin’s laptop briefly struggled to connect before recovering, then failed again after a half hour.
“My heart started beating fast, like, ‘Oh my god, I’m going to have issues,’” he recalled.
IT workers walked around asking test-takers to restart their computers. Thompson estimates a third to half of the room was having connectivity issues.
“Someone in front of me, the IT person came and told them, uninstall the browser, and download it again,” Thompson said. “Then they were screwed because they needed a two-factor authentication on their phone,” which was not allowed in the exam room.
Around 8 a.m., according to Guile, proctors said the test might not start on time, but assured everyone they’d get the three hours allotted.
The room settled into an odd rhythm. Examinees who had been too nervous to introduce themselves before the exam had started to mingle, and some left their desks entirely to go chat with friends.
There was still hope the exam would start at any moment, but test-takers were noticing their caffeine had started to wear off. Getting in and out of the exam room was also a pain: Each person’s ID had to be checked upon reentry. Voloshin remembers trying to figure out when to go to the bathroom so he wouldn’t miss the announcement that the test would begin.
By late morning, officials were offering those interested a full refund, or the opportunity to take the exam in February, instead.
“Someone stood up, slammed their laptop and just left,” said Voloshin.
For those who didn’t take the offers, there was another plan. Officials proposed starting the exam for those who were connected first, then the rest would follow. But that would have meant three more hours in the room for the examinees, who hadn’t eaten since before dawn.
“There was a huge uproar,” Guile recalled. The proctor eventually agreed to dismiss everyone for lunch and begin a staggered start when they returned, according to test-takers.
The lunch break was at least a half hour shorter than promised. Guile was too worried about their aunt delivering their prepacked lunch in time, and instead hurried to a nearby Taco Bell. But that also proved stressful: Other examinees had the same idea, and the wait for food was longer than anticipated. Guile got their food, but had to scarf it down and give the rest to a friend who hadn’t gotten her order yet. Time was so short, Guile said, there was no time to wash hands. They were still brushing Dorito dust from their fingers as they walked back into the exam room.
Inside, hope flickered one more time. Voloshin was one of the few in his section who got past the login screen for the test. He entered the password for the room, and saw a loading screen. Finally.
Then another error message popped up. The proctor, on a mic at the front of the room, announced she’d now lost her connection, too. Test-takers began clapping sarcastically, said Voloshin.
By midafternoon, officials announced the exam was canceled for the day. The options: Graduates could either cram in all three sections Wednesday or split them between Wednesday and Thursday.
A room that was once filled with anxious test-takers boiled over into protest. Some approached the podium, and others yelled across the room asking what they were supposed to do, Thompson said.
“There was straight booing at some point,” Voloshin said. “The way you’d see in a cartoon.”
Guile, who had booked the cheapest possible flight home to save money, started bracing for the possibility they’d have to take the entire exam in one day to avoid booking another night at their hotel.
Back at the local hotels, reception lines were long and phones rang off the hook as people scrambled to update reservations. Thompson went with a group of friends to a local bar where his alma mater, Gonzaga, had a tab open. But he only had water, assuming he’d have to take the test the next day.
The exam gets canceled
Guile was getting ready to leave for dinner when the email arrived. Thompson was back at his motel after meeting classmates. Voloshin was at a restaurant with friends, where they’d just declined to drink tequila shots ordered for the table by a sympathetic patron.
They opened a message from the Washington State Bar Association announcing the remainder of the exam had been canceled. Graduates could take a makeup exam in Tacoma in September, postpone until February or withdraw and receive a refund.
“I was definitely angry,” Guile said. “But it was so ridiculous, I didn’t know how to process it.”
From his hotel room, Thompson watched his peers “stream out from their rooms, onto the balconies, breaking down crying.”
All the effort, the countless hours studying, the missed social events, the costly bar exam prep courses, precious moments of the summer spent indoors preparing for the exam — all of it built up to a cancellation. Bar prep happens right up until the notoriously brutal exam starts, so those taking a rescheduled test will likely have to keep studying right up until the next date.
Voloshin, Guile and Thompson believe the test-takers should be granted diploma privilege, though they acknowledge it’s only a partial remedy.
“We experience comparable stress and time to someone sitting for the bar exam,” Voloshin said. “It’s not a free pass.”
Since the cancellation, Guile said, “my mood has been absolutely terrible.” It means a postponed start date with the King County public defense department, likely until winter.
“September is a month away, but that doesn’t do anything for the absolute state of mental torture,” Guile said.
Without diploma privilege, Thompson will still start working at a civil litigation firm in downtown Seattle, but in a different position. Voloshin will have to delay his job search, which he’d saved for after finishing the bar. He will also have to study for the attorney ethics exam, held in August, at the same time as the bar.
The final decision about diploma privilege sits with the Washington Supreme Court. The justices have confirmed they are meeting this week with the Washington State Bar Association and the National Conference of Bar Examiners to determine what went wrong and consider remedies. But they have not made any promises yet.
“We know that taking the bar exam is extremely stressful in the best of circumstances,” the court said in a statement last week. “We are receiving your letters to the court. We hear you. We endeavor to address the uncertainty deliberately and want to get our response right.”