For The Student…

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Who turned down admission at an Ivy League college, when the response to the student’s desire to build their own path was met with a chuckle, and “Yes, well, we’ve been doing this for a very long time.”

Who walked into my office the day after graduation to say “I know we talked about college, but I have this job working with kids. I’d like to see where that leads.”

Who came home freshman year for the holidays from the college that gave them a full ride and said “I don’t know. I just feel the need to perform now.” Left college, and did, much to the delight of the millions who have seen them on stage and screen.

Who got to my office before me one morning to say they were homeless, so college was out.

And for the admissions director who took my call, set aside their day, and found the money for the student to go anyway.

Who invited me to their wedding, which was a week after high school graduation.

Who so infuriated me, I pulled their cumulative file to figure out what their story was, and stumbled across their 1st grade school picture. I then completely understood how to approach that student, and found a technique for student engagement I used for the rest of my career.

Who loved a school the parents said they couldn’t afford. In front of Mom and Dad, I told them to apply. The school only gave ten full ride scholarships, but that turned out to be nine more than they needed, or got.

Who wanted to major in tigers.

And for four professionals in a counselor chat room who offered options thirty minutes after I asked for help.

Who was on the verge of flunking out, who asked me to broker one more chance with their teacher. I reluctantly asked; the teacher reluctantly said yes. By the following July, the student had a high school diploma, and a job that paid more than mine.

And for the teacher, who had no reason to say yes, but did anyway.

Who returned another Christmas to say how great the school was, who was stunned when I asked how they first heard about that school. “You told me about it.”

Who heard me give a public talk where I told students to look wide and far in their college hunt. They went home, reopened their search, and found a better choice, at a lower price. A year later, they tracked me down to deliver the letter every counselor should get. “You don’t know me, but…”

Who lost a parent unexpectedly, so they thought college was out.

 And for the college admissions officer who, when I told them the news, said “Well, we always say we treat our students like family. It’s time to prove it.” And they did.

Who came back from a tour of a campus I was sure was perfect, and responded to my query about how it went with a long pause, and then “You know, I was on campus for at least two hours, and no one talked about the books they were reading.”

Who spent their rising senior summer in a backyard hammock, reading books they, as a STEM major, never got around to.

Who cried when I told them their first-choice college took them, then invited me to a high school graduation party. For their daughter. 25 years later.

For the gift of them just being them, showing that the world is wide, and reminding us what a wonderful thing that is…

May we all give thanks.

In Person College Admission Essays?

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

It’s pretty well known that college admissions processes are more than a little crazy—but the twists and turns of getting into even the most popular colleges in the country pale in comparison to the—forgive me—lunacy that is part of getting admitted to many of the private high schools in New York City. Tales of getting into the right nursery school in order to get on the right trajectory for a certain high school are legendary—and given the relatively small physical space compared to the recruiting range for most colleges, the intensity of it all can make even the most ethical applicants consider looking for an unequal edge.

One of these high schools is trying to do something about that. Beacon High School has announced that the essay portion of its admission policy must now be completed by the student, in person, on one of several available dates at the high school. Students receive the writing prompts ahead of time, as well as the scoring rubric, but walk into the test site with no previously written materials. 

Unnamed sources at the school report the change was largely initiated by the dramatic increase in excellent essays that were written at home, once artificial intelligence resources flourished. Beacon joins a few other high schools engaging in this switch, but for some reason, the change here has increased stress among the 9th-grade-bound New York community.

This change echoes much of the discussion the college admissions community has had in recent years over the value of admissions essays in an AI world. Many say the addition of AI is just one more hurdle savvy admissions officers can overcome, having been weaned on essays that seemed strengthened by over-zealous essay “coaches”, or written by middle-aged parents who were convinced they could “sound” 17. Others say this is now a brave new world, since AI can analyze the tone of teenage writing and produce material that is the rare mix of exceptional and expected for strong high school writers.

At the same time, Beacon’s switch seems to take the discussion on college admissions essays on a new track. Rather than considering doing away with the essays, why not go back to having students write college essays in person? This obviously wouldn’t be as simple as a college saying “You want to go here? Bring a Number 2 pencil to campus Saturday!”, but the merits of offering students a chance to just write have their advantages:

• • Colleges get to see the raw writing abilities of students
• • It reduces the advantages the wealthy have to hire writing coaches
• • Students spend less time agonizing over drafts 4, 5, or 6, and can focus more on school

That said, there are some downsides:

• • A big part of the college experience has to do with polished writing, not in-class writing
• • Some students’ writing improves vastly with the second or third draft
• • How on earth do you organize this?

That last one is kind of easy, at least in my world. There’s a couple of days where high schools can hold essay sessions, proctored not by high school staff, but by staff from a neighboring school—they switch schools to proctor. The prompts are released to students at 7 pm the night before, reducing the likelihood of essay coaching or multiple drafts. Finally, not every essay is done this way. Students would write, say, the main Common App essay, this way, writing the supplemental essays on their own—so colleges can compare raw work with polished and, uh, supervised writing.

Better? Worse? Something to consider.

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.

The Many Quirks of Early Decision

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

It’s one of those things we love to hate, don’t fully understand, and often wish would just go away. 

No, this isn’t a relative, telemarketing calls, or even pineapple on pizza. It’s Early Decision, the kind of college application many counselors are working on at this very moment, since many ED applications are due November 1.

To review, Early Decision is not available at every college. Unlike an Early Action program where students apply early, but can still consider other offers of admission, Early Decision applications have an added twist. If the student is admitted ED, and the college meets the student’s demonstrated financial need, the student must attend that college. 

It's a little tough separating fact from fiction about ED, but here goes:

• Students think an ED application sets them apart from the crowd. Maybe, unless the college takes a larger percentage of ED applicants than regular applicants. If that’s the case, applying ED is actually a disadvantage.

• Students think the GPA and test score averages for ED applicants is higher. In general—in general—these data points are the same for ED and regular applicants.

• ED programs favor wealthy students, and students that go to high schools with smaller counselor caseloads. Absolutely true. Despite some colleges’ best efforts, many first gen and low-income students don’t even know ED exists, let alone why they’d want to apply early.

• Many low-income students pass on applying ED, since they can’t compare financial aid packages—and if they think their ED package contains too much loan, for example, they’d still have to go there, since the college met their need.

• Students who are admitted ED and get enough aid can’t go anywhere else, and if they do, the college punishes the high school for failing to make the student keep their promise.

Yeah. About that.

That’s the issue at the center of a New York Times article, where Tulane University put a high school on ED probation for a year because one of their students backed out of an ED agreement.

This is pretty unusual, and many counselors are crying Foul—after all, how much control does a counselor really have over what a student (or family) does? At the same time, the story suggests the student didn’t tell Tulane they weren’t coming, and the high school didn’t tell Tulane the student wasn’t coming. Subsequent reports do suggest the school made efforts and did reach out to Tulane, making this that much more of a mystery.

New information will undoubtedly come to light, but it begs some questions:

Is it time for ED to go? As long as the institutional plusses for the college outweigh the minuses, and the faithless ED applicants are either small in number or nonexistent, ED is going nowhere.

Should colleges cap the percentage of seats offered to ED students? Another institutional question. If a college likes the mix of students they’re getting through ED, why change what works?

Should ED become more than just a promise? One idea is to change ED, where students and their parents don’t simply promise to attend if admitted, but are required to enter into a contract where, if the student is admitted and changes their mind, they would have to pay a full year’s tuition. This would likely serve as an additional disincentive to low-income students, but it would likely tighten up what some feel may be an increased tendency for students to apply ED and leave the college twisting in the wind.

This makes handling telemarketers seem like a walk in the park.

Counselor Stress in October

by Patrick O'Connor, Ph.D.

Working in a school counseling office is a lot like an open mike night at a comedy club. You drive to work with a mental list of what the day needs to bring — but then a student is waiting for you. Or a parent. Or an administrator.

And it’s goodbye list.

That’s especially true this October. It’s usually busy enough getting students to submit college applications with early deadlines. This year, the government shutdown has the added bonus of students and families who are looking at unemployment, payless workdays, not eating, spiraling healthcare costs, or — arguably worse — waiting for those things to happen to them.

Grad school didn’t teach you how to handle caseloads of 600, and they sure didn’t teach you how to handle a constitutional crisis. Here’s an approach to build off of:

Start with you Stephen Covey’s parable about keeping the saw sharp couldn’t be more true — counselors can’t help others if they don’t take care of themselves. So start with you. Make a list of things, times, and events you’re going to need to be at your centered best. And if that doesn’t include all those things counselors are allegedly known for in self-care — candles, yoga, or big salads for lunch — that’s OK. Some things can only be healed with a chicken parm sub, extra sauce.

Alert Your Boss This is the time of year students come to you with a college application on October 31 and say “It’s due tomorrow”, expecting the only thing you had on your calendar was car waxing and bonbon consumption. Once you tell them you’ll do what you can, but you can’t make any promises — and that is what you should tell them — someone’s going to share their displeasure about you with your boss. Tell them ahead of time that your office is being flooded with requests. That will help them help you.

About Those College Apps You likely told juniors last spring that requests related to college applications — transcripts, counselor letters, meetings to review student essays — needed to be done a month before the deadline. And you told them again this fall. And their parents. Four times.

And yet.

In the interest of your sanity, and your department, stick to your guns — no midnights in the office or checking email November 1, unless you promised you would do that (here’s hoping you didn’t). “Make sure your part of the application is in by the deadline, and I’ll do my best” is all you can really promise. Truth is, many colleges give adults a little extra time to submit their supportive materials, because they know kids can be kids. Some don’t, but that’s not your fault. You told them.

Shutdown issues Their parents don’t have jobs, or they have jobs but no paycheck. State-based food supplement programs have no federal money, and everyone is looking at healthcare costs going up as much as 400%.

Plan ahead. An hour with your office door closed allows you to do an Internet search of local and state resources designed to help people suddenly in need — and if you work in a multi-counselor office, their hour behind closed doors strengthens the list. Post it on your Web site, email it to students, parents, and faculty, and get the word out there. Send a second email to faculty, reminding them students are at risk, and to please send any student to you who seems to need a word of support. They’ll know.

Ask for help A student has a need you can’t help with. Chances are you know someone who can. Don’t be proud. Call.