A Paean (of Sorts) to Admissions Staff

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

(All based on true stories.)

We had just talked about a student who was applying to his highly competitive college, and the admissions rep said he needed to get to his next high school. Rather than take him to the closest exit to the building, we went to the next one—allowing us to walk through our art gallery, where there was a painting done by the student we had just discussed.

“Hey”, I feigned, “what do you know? Here’s the latest work by that student.”

The rep read my motives in a heartbeat. He started to say well, yes, but he was running behind, and couldn’t really spend time looking at—

And then he saw the painting, a look which was followed by a defining pause.

“Yes. Well” he said.

Two weeks later, he called my office.

“We’re admitting her early” he said. “We really see something in the artwork.”

It’s more than OK if a student is waiting for you when you open up the office first thing in the morning, since they are typically cheery, and sometimes even bring pastry. The ones to watch out for come in two minutes after you open up. They’ve been pacing in the hallway, trying to figure out just what to say, or maybe even thinking twice about coming in at all.

He was one of the latter students, and his generally cheery face was ashen and exhausted. “My dad lost his job, and we’ve just been evicted.”

As dazed as he was, he did a remarkable job of telling me what all this meant about college plans. To no one’s surprise, he needed more money.

I’d served on a professional committee with the director of admissions at his first-choice college, so she took my call right away. The director immediately went into problem-solving mode, and when we came up empty, she said, “I see an ACT of 28. Too bad. One more point, and that’s $40,000 more in scholarship.”“It is a 29” I said, “I’ve got it right here.”

“Oh, OK. Tell you what. We usually require official copies for test scores, but if you happen to fax that to me in the next five minutes, and I happen to be going past the fax machine, well, what can I do?”

The student left school that day, college plans in place.

My other student wasn’t as fortunate. His mother, one of the most engaged, supportive parents in the history of the world, passed on after a brief illness, and the student was an only child. “Dad still wants me to go away to college” he told me, “but I don’t know if I can do it.”

It was August, and he was supposed to report to orientation, five hours away, in two weeks. I called our admissions rep, and explained the situation.

There was a long pause. “Well”, he said, “we’re always saying we’re like a family. I guess it’s time to prove it.”

And they didn’t disappoint. The student came home for Thanksgiving beaming about college, and life, and what was to come. It wasn’t in his job description, but the rep had made sure that would happen.

The travel is long, the pay can be bad, GPS isn’t always right, and every high school counselor is looking for an inside track. Despite that, they are the guardians of the integrity of our profession, our students, and themselves—and at the end of the day, they acquit themselves with panache, enthusiasm, and heart.

Road warriors? More like masters of life’s roadways.

Making It Through the Holidays without Being Broken

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Completing college applications can be hard work, work that often runs through the holiday season. Since everyone else is taking some time off, this would seem to be the perfect opportunity to hang out with your family, especially since this could be your last Thanksgiving/New Year/Kwanzmasakah as a full-time occupant of your parents’ home. How could this possibly be a bad idea?

“My friend,” says you, “you clearly don’t know my parents, or my Uncle Bob.”

Fair enough; it’s time to take back the holidays. Here are the three keys to thriving (not just surviving) this wonderful season senior year:

Treat Uncle Bob like you and he are adults. If you’re smart enough to go to college, you’re smart enough to sort out how Uncle Bob operates — and that’s the key to success. Once he’s through updating you on his thriving business and gloating about the political party of his choice, he’s going to put a large piece of turkey on his fork and ask, “So, how’s the college hunt going?”

You’re now thinking, “This is the end.” You haven’t heard from the college that was supposed to decide in October, and your other colleges are small schools Uncle Bob hasn’t heard of. Heck, you hadn’t even heard of them until last year.

And this, my friend, makes a wonderful foundation for your response.

“Well, Uncle Bob, I applied to Eastnorthern State U, and I thought of you when I answered the essays, since you’ve told me how much you love the school. I guess everybody’s uncle feels that way because the college is weeks behind in admissions decisions, but I should hear by Super Bowl.

“I know Mom has told you about my other schools, where some of the students major in the History of Haiku and take classes like Fruit Leather in a Modern Society. I won’t hear from them until spring, but if I decide to attend one of them, I’ll be sure to bring a flare gun with me to campus, in case they try to force-feed me tofu.”

At this point, Uncle Bob will look at you, chuckle a little, and then go back to talking about the glory, or evils, of Ronald Wilson Reagan.

Welcome to adulthood.

Your applications and Black Saturday. The next holiday hurdle is the Saturday after Thanksgiving (or Christmas or…) when even the adults are ready for a break from each other. This is typically the time when your parents — who love you — will say, “Honey, Uncle Bob is going out to lunch with us. Don’t you think this would be a good time to work on your college essays?”

This requires preparation. Put together a spreadsheet ahead of time with the name of every college you’re applying to, the date each application is due, and the date you will work on that application. Print out a copy and keep it in your back pocket, saving it for this moment when you open it with a modest flourish, hand it to your parents, and say, “I’ve got it covered. Have a great lunch.”

And as you put your earphones back on to fall under the spell of Spotify, you will see your parents weep with amazement and joy. Their widdle baby is all grown up.

Remember the reason for the season. You have parents who love you, an Uncle Bob who is the lovable kind of crazy, and a world of possibilities awaiting you in college. If ever there was a time for gratitude, it is now.

So head over the river and through the woods with confidence, you college slayer.

Before You Scream at Your College Counselor

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

You've worked so hard to schedule, prepare, and nudge your high school senior to apply to college on time. You shared that small thrill when they hit Submit with time to spare, and you thought you were all set.

Until they got the e-mail.

"Our records indicate your application is incomplete. Unless we receive a copy of your high school transcript in the next five days, we will be unable to process your application."

At this point, you've decided this is personal, so even though it's 7 at night, you pick up the phone and leave The Mother of All Voice Mails for your school counselor.

Boy, did you just blow it. Here's why:

Your entire reaction is based on a wrong assumption. The college hasn't said "Forget it"; they've said, "We need something." You can help them get what they need. Was that voice mail helping the college? Was it helping your child?

The college likely has the information. Even with advanced technology, admissions offices get backed up — so the transcript might not be in your child's file, but it is in the college's application system somewhere. That means your high school counselor — the one you just called incompetent — sent the transcript, and in a timely fashion.

If the college already has one copy of your transcript, they don't want another one. If the transcript is already in the college's system, they really don't want a second copy, since that would just increase their backlog. The only way to double check is for someone to call the admission office, and see if the first copy has found its way to your child's file.

You just berated the person who can help you the most. To be honest, the person who should call the college is your child (it's their application), but it's likely you want the school counselor to call. You know — the one you just described as incapable of doing their job.

This isn't to say they won't help you and give your child their full support, but if you've just given them a big, and very angry, piece of your mind, you've now put them in a spot where they need to start keeping a paper trail of your, um, complaint. That takes time; so does recovering from being told by someone who last applied to college 20 years ago that you don't know what you're doing. You want the problem resolved now, but you've just prevented that from happening. Is that really a good idea?

You've just left an impression you can't erase. Let's say the transcript is already there, or that a second one is sent, making your child's file complete. The college is now considering your child carefully, but they'd like a little more information about them. How does your child react to setbacks? How well do they speak up for themselves? Do they demonstrate flexibility?

The person the college will be talking to is — you guessed it — the school counselor, who is now only able to extol the virtues of your child's ability to hand their problems over to Mommy and Daddy to solve, simply because that's what the counselor has experienced. This isn't about a grudge; this is about their experience.

It's easy to freak out about the college admissions process, but just because you can, it doesn't mean you should. That's even more true when challenges arise, and your child looks to you to set the model for handling adversity they should take with them to college. This assumes the college still wants them. Part of that is up to you.