Summer Musings

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Another year. Whew. Time, at least for most of us, for at least a few days of remembering just how great it feels to sit without a computer screen in front of us, and, if we’re lucky, how sweet a ripe watermelon really tastes.

Given that well deserved rest, we might also have time to think some bigger thoughts about our profession, and consider ways to take on issues that, if done well, can help every student who’s thinking about college. Here’s my list for summer ponderings.

We say we hate the mania, and yet… All the May 1 news continues to be about the same 25 colleges with admit rates lower than the chances of getting struck by lightning. Until that changes, perhaps we should stop wondering why rising senior families are anxious about college, and may decide not to even bother to apply, even though the vast majority of colleges admit 50-75% of their applicants. Our profession, and our society, continues to be content with keeping this secret—and our profession seems to like it that way.

The Brag List A day hasn’t gone by in the last week when at least seven high schools or independent college counselors have posted their “Admitted To” lists to LinkedIn, with more schools posting them in full-page ads in their local paper. 

While the stated goal is to congratulate their college-bound students, that’s something that can be done—and is best done—with a handwritten note, small gift, or direct conversation. Printing the acceptance list may seem to do this, but it has the disadvantage of lending a tone of “look at me” that reinforces the idea that college admissions is about winning and losing. It also continues to suggest students doing something else with their lives—like going to HVAC technical training for six months to begin a career where they can support their ailing parents—are less noble. 

Double Depositing This is also the time of year when a handful of professionals come out in favor of double depositing, the practice where a student gets to May 1 with all the information they need to choose only one college, but decides to choose more than one. 

College choice is about the student, and that in turn is about making sure the student learns the skills, mindset, and maturity needed to make a strong college choice. It’s also about the college, because this is a partnership. If the student has all the information in hand by May 1, expecting them to make a firm commitment is an opportunity to practice the adult skill of decision-making with integrity to their decision-making partner. Any college that asks for a May 1 commitment without giving the student a full financial aid offer is demonstrating the height of hypocrisy, and, with all respect, gets what they deserve. Otherwise, the band is playing, and it’s time for the student to dance with one partner.

The college selection process remains, at its core, a pretty simple idea—spend time working with 9-11 grade students to understand more about themselves and the world around them, and help them find a next place to continue that exploration. We can get back there, as long as we are willing to stop blaming the problem on others. The great cartoon character Pogo is right again. We’ve met the enemy, and the enemy is us. It’s a hard truth, but the sooner we take it in, the sooner we can move forward.

Have a great summer, and, as always, thank you for reading.

We Opened Up College Access Last Week to Thousands of Students

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

It started with a call from a mother on the West side of Michigan. A member of her family was about to apply to college, and was thinking about applying to some schools without submitting her SAT scores. In this student’s case, that issue had already been decided, since Michigan had a state law requiring SAT scores that are part of statewide testing to be placed on the student’s transcript. Colleges still require transcripts, so, like it or not, colleges got the scores. 

Part of my work requires me to pay attention to issues like this, and when a state law prevents students from living out their college dreams, I’m supposed to call this to the government’s attention, and diplomatically ask them to cut it out. The only way to do that here was request the law be changed, a process in Michigan that parallels that of the federal government, nicely described by Schoolhouse Rock. 

I have the good fortune to know a public policy colleague whose passion is access to school. He was a leader in the state legislature, so in the time it takes most conversations to get around to how are the wife and kids, he understood the problem, and said the words every amateur lobbyist loves—“Leave it with me.” He found a legislator willing to sponsor the bill, and it made its way through the process with remarkable speed. It really seemed like everyone, Republican and Democrat alike, got it.

And then. With about eight weeks before the bill expired, the last vote needed to pass the bill was never scheduled—and we couldn’t find out why. Politics afoot, the bill died, and had to be reintroduced the next year. Unfortunately, the sponsor of the bill suddenly found himself in a dicey political situation, where no one wanted to give him, or any of his legislation, the time of day. After the dance of asking the original sponsor for his OK to get someone else to take over—now there’s a conversation-- there just weren’t a lot of avenues to pursue, since everyone was preoccupied with reelection.

Enter year 4. I heard a member of the House might be willing to take up this work, a former teacher. A meeting in January yielded interest, but no action—until August, when committee hearings for the bill were suddenly being held with two days’ notice. Counselors (OK, I) and our key allies scrambled to put witnesses together, including a public-school counselor so persuasive, I was convinced the committee was going to ask her out to lunch.

Suddenly, we were back on track. Unanimous votes out of committees and on legislative floors, combined with delays for things like the legislature being out of session for deer hunting season (welcome to Michigan), ultimately led to one final vote. A phone call suggested this last vote might once again never come. It came two days later. Unanimous again.

There is incredible cynicism about the value of governance and the value of college these days, with people thinking efforts to make things better are vain. That’s easy to believe if all you do is look at the whole picture. Instead, find a small piece, and think about changing that.

 The governor signed the bill into law, so democracy is better, thanks to a high school junior, a caring mom, and a few folks who still believe good can be created out of thin air. It took time and effort. Valuable things do.

And thousands of students I’ll never meet benefited from my part in this work.

Talk about humbling.

The Je Ne Sais Quoi of College Admissions

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Eric Hoover is the best writer about college admissions out there, and if you haven’t read his classic piece on what college admissions is really all about, you have something to do today.

That’s why I was surprised when I finished his most recent piece on the need for more transparency in college admissions. You should read this for yourself, but here’s my summary:

• Yes, it would be helpful for college admissions to be easier to understand.

• But there’s more to college admissions than grades and test scores.

• And if we’re more transparent, we may get fewer applications.

I’m not disappointed with Eric’s writing; I’m disappointed with what the colleges had to say. My response:

• Sure, it would be great if college admissions were easier to understand—but can that really be done? If not, making it seem easy to understand is a bad idea, since it gives a false impression of what it really is.

• Admissions has always been about more than test scores and grades, but can some of those other factors still be quantified? Can the intangibles be described in, you know, sentences?

• Popular colleges admit less than 5 percent of their applicants, so they have lots of students to choose from. Why would fewer applicants be a problem?

And then, of course, the real problem hit me, in two parts.

Popular colleges run admissions offices like Parisian restaurants It’s a standard TV sitcom script. A new chic restaurant opens up, and everyone wants to get in, but it’s so popular, few can. Rumors abound of ways to bypass the months-long waitlist, raising the visibility and popularity of the place. If you succeed, you discover they are charging more than the meal is really worth, and you have a sense that, for better or worse, the folks running the restaurant kind of like the fact they have this reputation for being limited, since that makes them more popular.

Go back and read that last paragraph, and tell me which parts don’t apply to college admissions. Lower admit rates mean more media and social media coverage, so they take a nuclear-arms-race approach to encourage students to apply. This leads to stories about demonstrated interest, what applicants do with their summers, how many startups they have before 12th grade, and being the child of an alum or a US senator. More media, more popularity.

Tuition is set at an artificially high price that garners more media attention. Few families actually pay this, but listing the actual price would make the college seem pedestrian. It also gives parents of admitted students a false sense of relief when they get an aid package that knocks the price down from $75,000 to $50,000, as if the average family of four can actually afford that—but since this is such a good deal from the original price, it seems like a bargain, and off they go to Studentloanville and PLUSland. 

If you’re wondering what any of this has to do with students and learning, or where the college considers the appropriateness of the match between the student’s needs, goals, and abilities and what the college has to offer, welcome to the club. These things are certainly part of the admissions process, but they get short shrift when admissions is discussed.

Which leads to the second part of my aha moment:

Popular colleges don’t want to be more transparent because that might risk their place in the college pecking order, another concept that has absolutely nothing to do with the well-being of students.

Now there’s an Eric Hoover piece I can’t wait to read.

Is Decision Day a Good Thing?

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Like all ideas, it started off with the best of intentions. Why not take a moment to celebrate the hardworking high school seniors who are heading off to college with some kind of school-based event to acknowledge all they’ve done to build strong futures for themselves? Maybe a breakfast, maybe an assembly. Have them wear their college gear to the event, invite family members, give them a small token of the day, and there you are. Who knows? Perhaps this public display of achievement might inspire students who might not otherwise consider college to see what this is really all about.

And then, like so many well-intended ideas, things came apart rather quickly. 

• High schools where nearly every student goes to college run the risk of hurt feelings, when students who didn’t get into their dream school see another student wearing that college’s sweatshirt.

• All high schools have to consider how this day impacts students who didn’t get into their first-choice college—or worse, got in, but didn’t get the financial support they needed to attend.

• Raising awareness of college as an option sounds like a great idea at high schools where college attendance is unusual, but how does that make the students feel who are choosing something else, and with good reason?

High school counselors are nothing if not flexible, so many were able to pivot. College Decision Day became Decision Day, or Futures Day, where everyone was honored for the choices they had made for life after high school. This still doesn’t allow for students who still don’t know what they want to do, or students who had to settle for Plan B, but some argue this is about as inclusive as you can get, while still honoring the futures students have built for themselves.

I get it, and fully support the intention of Decision Day, especially when considering its potential to inspire underclassmen to make sure they are surveying the entire menu of postsecondary options. But the counselor in me worries about those students who, for good reason, see this as a public display of their not realizing their dreams, many of these occurring due to circumstances beyond their control. Besides, aren’t graduation ceremonies, if done well, designed to be a recognition of achievement?

Still, there is much to be said in a world rife with teenagers for Keeping Up with the High School Next Door. To that end, here’s how two institutions deal with Decision Day that seem to fill the bill nicely.

One high school holds a lunch, just for seniors, in late March. Since it’s held before the last of the college decisions are announced, the event isn’t at all about who got in where. Instead, it is a chance for seniors to be together one last time before the mania of senior spring, look around at each other, realize how good they’ve had it, and see how that base will serve them well when they move on to whatever may be next. The event creates an atmosphere of mutually looking forward.

Another high school holds a breakfast, where seniors and their parents are invited. No speeches, no sweatshirts—just breakfast. At the end, the students move into the school’s main hallway, where a huge blank piece of white paper adorns a wall. Each student is invited to write their name, their future plans, and any advice they have for 9-11 graders. That banner remains in the main hall for a year, until the next one takes its place.

As is often the case with much of life, sometimes understatement is the best statement.

Opera, Brooklyn Pizza, Life Partners—The Case for College

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

A generation ago, college was considered the golden ticket, a way out of manual labor and into an easier lifestyle. The popularity of this notion was in full force when I went to college, as enrollment ranks ballooned, and all at a price that was incredibly affordable. 

And then things changed. For reasons I still can’t fathom, policymakers decided public colleges were simply out to make money, and college was no longer a public good. This led to state budgets providing less funding to their colleges, all at the same time the birth rate was going down, leading to increased competition for students. This led to more spending on luxury items like single-person dorm rooms, coffee lounges, and infinity pools—which led to more spending, which led to tuition hikes that were now being shouldered more by families, and less by the government.

COVID seemed to bring the discussion of the value of college to a head—why should we be paying full tuition for classes my child was now taking on TV, from home? This seems to have led to more questions, and not just from tuition-paying parents, all while tuition continued to rise, often at a rate higher than inflation. 

That’s led us to where we are now, with a clear majority of Americans feeling college isn’t necessary for much of anything. Parents use their college experience to justify their feelings, often saying something like “I got a degree in Sociology, and I’m the regional manager of a chain of retail stores. What did I need that for?”

I’m used to articulating the need for things many consider obscure, since I’ve taught both Geometry and Political Science, so here goes:

• You needed to see how big the world is. Sociology teaches that, but it’s hard to think of any major that doesn’t require a student to look beyond their front door—and their own frontal lobe—and be ready to not just understand the world, but change it for the better. Spending four years on the couch watching even the best of what cable TV has to offer doesn’t do that.

• You needed to see how small you are. Not everyone makes mac and cheese the way your mother does. It’s OK for you to still like hers best, but there will be lots of times you’ll have to eat someone else’s. Living with people whose moms make different mac and cheese, or who don’t even know what that is, helps you learn how to do that, and how to do it graciously. It also helps you attain an important life skill. It’s called humility.

• You didn’t know what you didn’t know. Taking on any subject matter in-depth means you have to learn how to learn in a way that high school, sadly, does not often teach. Name an employer who wouldn’t want an employee who can do that.

• Opera, Brooklyn pizza, your future spouse. Examples of things many people wouldn’t have in their lives if it weren’t for college. Would they still be good employees? Maybe. Would they still have rich lives outside the office? Would their children still find them interesting?

This isn’t to say all students need to go to college, a point I have gone out of my way to make many times in this space. The basis for that decision, as always, should be based on the skills, talents, needs, and curiosities of the student. Parents of little means find ways to make Christmas memorable. With a little help, they can make their children’s preparation for forever just as worthwhile.

A Note to Students About a College Saying No

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

It’s been a remarkable year to apply to college. Thanks to all kinds of new and unusual circumstances, this application season has certainly seemed exceptionally long, unusual, and rich with new challenges. But now the winter is past, and the voice of the college admissions officer can be heard in our land.

This is a time of great excitement for high school seniors applying to college, but before you go any further, it’s important to know three things about selective college admissions. I cannot overstate the importance of reading this twice, thoroughly, before you move ahead — OK?

Some colleges will find their applications are at an all-time high. The number of students graduating from high school goes up and down, but one constant is the number of students applying to highly selective colleges — it always tends to go up. Even if it didn’t, getting admitted to colleges with a 3 percent acceptance rate is just plain hard to do. This isn’t a random process, and there’s more to it than just grades, but an increase in the number of applicants makes it that much harder to get admitted.

There is a common reason why colleges deny admission to most applicants. The No. 1 reason selective colleges turn down most applicants is simple — they run out of room before they run out of great applicants. If they had more dorm rooms, and more professors, and more classrooms, they’d love to take more students. But they cannot do justice to the students they admit by taking too many students, since no one gets a quality education that way — and that’s not fair to anyone.

An admissions decision is not a character indictment. With more applications, and limited space, colleges must create a learning community that is exciting, diverse and rich with opportunities. Doing that is a mix of science and art, a mixture of data (grades, maybe test scores) and insight (essays, letters of recommendation), and frankly, a little guesswork, where (as one admissions officer said) the standard is excellence, not perfection. In selecting these students, these colleges will tell you that just about everyone who applied qualifies for admission — they would be a great student, benefit the college tremendously and contribute to the college in many ways. Since you applied to a highly selective college, all that applies to you.

Given that, I can’t think of any way a letter of denial or wait list should be interpreted to mean “The college doesn’t like me” — or worse, “I am not a good person.” College admissions is about many things, but it is never a judgment about you as a person.

Most colleges go to great pains to point this out when they send their rejection letters. Believe me when I tell you they aren’t just being nice; they truly honor and respect everything you have done as a person, and they are grateful you applied to their college. That may not mean much the minute you hear the news, but it will over time. Whether the college says yes, no or maybe, your value and worth as a person is cast in stone, and can be shaken by absolutely no one, be it another person or an admissions committee.

Your life isn’t in that envelope or email; it’s just an admissions decision. You already have a life, and a fine one at that.