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.