Admissions Blog

Undergraduate Admissions Uncensored

The Birthrate Crisis, and How Colleges Should Respond

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The biggest stumbling block in education research is its lack of replicability.  In science, the same amount of vinegar plus the same amount of baking soda gives you the same result—and the same-sized result—no matter who does the experiment.  But take someone else’s methods and teaching materials, implement them the exact same way the first experimenter did, and you will likely get nothing even close to the same result.

A happy exception to this “it’s never the same” rule occurred in the 90s, when a number of studies showed, time after time, there was a way to significantly improve student learning—and it had nothing to do with changing curriculum, retraining teachers, or extending the school day.  This swath of studies showed, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the best way to improve student learning—especially in grades K-3—is to follow the magic recipe of 15 students or less with one teacher in one classroom.  Do that, and great things happen.

What has happened to this rare pillar of education reform?  Well, not much.  Once the magic recipe was discovered, administrators scoffed at the idea of dropping class size that low.  For that matter, so did taxpayers, who didn’t take long to realize that lower class size meant more classrooms and more teachers—and both cost more money.  As a result, education has largely turned its back on this piece of magic, except for some not-so-clever administrators who believe they can keep 30 kids in one classroom with a teacher and an aide and still maintain the ratio.

Since all three parts must be honored, this would be like doubling the baking soda and eggs in a cookie recipe without increasing the amount of flour.  You get something different, but you don’t get better cookies.  The magic recipe failed on its promise to deliver because the people in charge of schools—administrators and taxpayers—decided the change wasn’t worth the cost, offering instead some sleight of hand with ratios that satisfied most everyone, largely because Americans really don’t understand mathematics.

The leaders of our higher education systems are on the verge of making a similar error, with far more serious consequences.  It’s no secret that the birthrate in the US declined about 20 years ago, and is headed for a serious nose dive of the number of high school graduates in about 2025.  Since this isn’t exactly new news, one would think colleges would be looking at these numbers and saying something like “Fewer high school graduates means fewer college freshmen.  What should we do about it?”

Like the K-12 class size issue, the answer here is pretty easy.  No every high school senior goes to college right after high school, so there’s plenty of room to increase the number of college-bound seniors, and still maintain strong college enrollments.  The trick here lies in talking to students who don’t see college as part of their futures, and getting them to change their minds. If every high school student already went straight to college, this couldn’t be done; but that just isn’t the case.

As is often the case with answers that appear easy, this one has at least one major snag.  A very close read of most college recruiting literature shows it’s based on one big assumption; the student or family reading the literature is already convinced a four-year college is the answer for them, and they now simply need to sort out which ones they’ll consider.  They know about testing and application essays and degree requirements and different application deadlines, so it isn’t a question of “If College”.  It’s a question of “What College”.

Any student unsure about the benefits of four-year colleges would look at this admissions information and feel like they’ve walked into the middle of a three-hour movie; they know they have some catching up to do, but no one seems to want to help them, since they’re too busy watching the movie themselves. Given that mindset, you’d think most colleges—especially those that experienced freshman enrollment declines of up to 40 percent during COVID—would move heaven and earth to make sure they don’t end up as losers in the birthrate lottery.  A few new pamphlets, a different kind of open house, a new video or two, and a little admissions training, and you’re all set.

To date, that has not been the response of the higher education community.  Senior admissions officials tell me the general overall response has been to double down on an admissions strategy that includes making their institution the best choice, a strategy that turns what could be a bona fide effort at expanding college access into a zero-sum game.  This approach seems to glean support from the national papers who have always covered college admissions like there are only 25 colleges in the country.  The more “Ivies Report Record Application” stories they print, the more they feed the attitude that asks the question “Enrollment problem?  What enrollment problem?”

The real irony here is that the creation of a “Why College?” campaign for students new to the idea is fairly affordable and relatively easy.  Colleges that have like-minded missions and student bodies tend to be in the same athletic league.  Imagine what could happen if all colleges in one league pitched in a couple of admissions officers and a modest amount of cash to create, for example, The Big Ten Guide to the Benefits of College.  Since the goal of the campaign is informational, this wouldn’t constitute monopoly-building, and could even be overseen by the US Department of Education, which has a vested interest in making sure the college market doesn’t shrink.

The magic recipe of 15 students didn’t generate the results it was capable of for one reason—in the end, most people didn’t really care about fixing the problem.  The difference with the birthrate decline is that a lack of students means more than a few colleges will wither, or even die.  That would be a shame, but the only way to get something different is to do something different.  Are colleges wise enough to realize this, and innovate?

COVID Changed Admissions a Little.  Let’s Change it More.

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This isn’t the week to be a high school student.  Statewide assessment is going on  across the country, and thanks to social distancing policies, at least some students are taking the ACT on gym bleachers, six feet apart, straddling a wooden plank across their legs and using it as a desk.  Among other things, the results of this ACT will be used in some states to decide which  students get merit scholarship money.

Students in Michigan are about a month away from likely doing the same thing.  State officials reached out to the US Department of Education and asked for a waiver from the required testing in this year of  COVID mayhem.  Apparently the request got there when Betsy Devos was still in charge, because it was denied.

School counselors really thought we had won the day when over 1350 colleges decided to continue their test-optional admission policies for this year’s juniors—in fact, many colleges have extended this policy for an additional two years.  This kind of extension takes a little bit of courage, since it was made before colleges finished the current admissions cycle.  Either they’re hoping for the best, or they’re seeing what so many colleges have long known—testing doesn’t mean all that much, and once you no longer have it,

In our delirium, it seems we forgot to talk to government officials, who are asking for test results that are sure to disappoint.  Early test results in the last year show student achievement is down.  That may be for all kinds of reasons, but when you make a student take the ACT on their lap, it’s pretty likely that’s not going to show their best effort—so we can expect to see more of the same.

School counselors aren’t a greedy bunch by nature, but there are more than a few that look at the adoption of test optional policies and sigh.  It was just a year ago when more than a few college admissions wonks—deans and directors included—were truly excited at the prospect of creating a brand new admissions system that was cleaner, fairer, and easier.  Ample articles are out there showing how wealth skews every single tool used in the current system, from grades to test scores to essays to letters of recommendation to extra curriculars.  When the COVID quarantine came along, veteran admission watchers thought “At last!  Here’s the big thing that’s going to require us to rethink the whole process.”

That didn’t exactly happen. Since many of the changes affecting admissions also affected campus life and methods of instruction, college administrators were too concerned with keeping beds full and classrooms open to consider changing most admissions policies.  Figuring out how to build a class without test scores proved to be challenging enough; changing anything else was perceived to be a dice roll no one could take right now, unless they were willing to risk the college’s entire future on it.

There’s still a lot to do to bring in this fall’s class, but it isn’t too early for colleges to hunker down now and think about The Big Move they didn’t have time for this year.  Understanding that most admission changes are glacial, admission offices can use the lessons they learned from the quick change to test optional and build on them with a more strategic approach for other changes.  This could lead to a new model of admission for this year’s high school sophomores.  It’s already clear most colleges that went test-optional aren’t going to go back.  Top that decision off with some strategic planning, and careful study of some schools who did make huge strides this year (I’m looking at you, UCLA), and there’s still a chance to either even the playing field of admission, or openly admit it isn’t even, and develop the protocols needed to create the exceptions that will make it more fair.

Meanwhile, if someone could just tell government policy makers why they went test optional, and why it makes sense for states to do so as well?  They might as well make the students complete the tests with quill pens.

Remembering Tom Weede, and Calling on the Next Tom Weedes

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I could tell this was not going to be a typical meeting with a college representative.  He walked into my office with absolutely no hurry, as if this was all he had to do all day, and talked about his school from the heart, not from a memory-committed checklist of things someone else told him to say.  When I asked questions, he left a space between when I stopped talking, and when he started his answer, never once referring me to the school’s website, or the college catalog.  This was clearly a guy who knew his school as well as he knew his middle name.

It was also notable that he didn’t talk about his school in some theoretical abstract.  We do that a lot in college admissions, where we talk about a college in the third person, like it’s some kind of god.  He mostly talked about the students at his school, what they were doing, what they liked about being there.  He knew that’s what makes the college experience work for a student—who you go to school with.  He wasn’t going to waste my time reciting scores and rankings, because Rugg’s could tell me about scores, and rankings were, well, pretty pointless.  If you have time to talk with someone face-to-face, the conversation should be a giving of self, not of data, and that meant talking about things that mattered.  What matters most in college is the students.

After he said everything he thought I should know, he got up and gave me his card.  As I recall, he said something about how he’d like to hear from me, but the university had made it kind of hard to get hold of him, with a student aide and a secretary standing between him and every incoming call, but he urged me to persist.  After he’d left, I read his card, and realized I’d just spent forty-five minutes talking to a Director of Admissions who had made a cold call to my high school.

That was my introduction to Tom Weede, who passed on earlier this month, leaving this world and our profession all the poorer.  The outpouring of loss has come from all circles of our field, and it all contains one common message; Tom was the rare person who not only felt you mattered; he made sure you knew you mattered.  He trusted you with his opinion, and trusted that you would step up and let him know how you felt in turn, even if you saw things differently.  His advocacy in the profession was focused on students, and when he engaged you in conversation, you felt, as George Bailey once said, that he knew you all the way to your back collar button.

Tom’s come to mind quite a bit this summer, and not just because of his passing.  I’ve been besieged by a number of students and parents flooding my office with requests to make college plans, and they’re all ninth and tenth graders.  One father called and insisted he had to meet with me right away, since his son was a junior, and had no college plans at all.  The student’s name wasn’t familiar to me, so I looked him up.  Turns out he was a sophomore, but since his father called the day after school was over, calling his son a junior made things sound more important, I guess.

That’s the kind of month it’s been.  One parent wants to meet to talk about “college strategy,” another one is convinced his ninth grader’s chances at graduate school are already shot because the student has no plans for this summer.  It’s easy enough to get caught up in the mania the media is peddling as college readiness, but it’s never hit the ninth and tenth graders like this before.  Worse, it seems to be hitting their parents, and too many of them are succumbing to the herd mentality of college angst, abandoning their post as sentinels of their children’s youth.

If there’s any remedy to this, I’d like to think it’s the calm, listening voice of the Tom Weedes that are still with us.  Tom did most of his preaching to admissions officers, and none of us were smart enough to ever ask him if he’d thought about saying this to kids and families. Since similar voices are doing the same thing, it’s time to ask them to broaden their scope, before SAT flash cards become the in gift for bar mitzvahs.

Voices like Ken Anselment, Heath Einstein, and Tamara Siler do a very nice job of reminding colleagues that that the college selection process is all about the kids. What’s needed now is for them to share their insights with a larger audience, giving kids permission to be kids. It would be a great way to honor Tom’s memory.  Better still, it would be the right thing to do for our world.

University of California: Restrictions for Out-of-State Students Seeking Resident Tuition

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UC Berkeley

The nine University of California campuses, featuring top programs in sunny locales, attract many out-of-state students. UCLA, for example, processed 113,761 applications last fall — the highest in the nation – with 22,822 from out-of-state.

Those numbers make admission very competitive, but out-of-state students can take heart: they are admitted at a higher rate (22% of out-of state applicants to UCLA were admitted in 2018, versus 12% of in-state), because fewer will ultimately enroll (24% of admitted out-of-state students to UCLA enrolled, versus 50% of in-state). The nonresident tuition, however, can sting – it’s an additional $28,992 per year.

Hoping to offset this, nonresidents frequently explore possible routes to resident tuition. In truth, there are many restrictions for out-of-state students seeking to qualify.

UC says:

“Obtaining California residency for the purposes of tuition and fees is extremely difficult for undergraduates with nonresident parents (this includes transfer students from community colleges and other postsecondary institutions within California).     

Virtually all nonresident undergraduates with nonresident parents remain nonresidents for the duration of their undergraduate career at UC.”

Still, many out-of-state students will continue their quest to qualify. The following provides some guidance for their typical questions.

Can I qualify for residency if I get a California driver’s license and register to vote, and/or my parents buy property in California?

No.

UC says:

“Residence can be established only by the union of physical presence and intent. Physical presence alone is insufficient; intent alone is insufficient.”

This means that to establish residency, the student and family must relocate to California (physical presence), and establish legal ties in California while severing ties to their former place of residence (intent).

Furthermore, you must be continuously physically present in California for more than one year (366 days) immediately prior to the term start date. Also note that any reclassification of residency is not retroactive.

Aren’t there any exceptions?

Yes.

The list of exceptions, however, is very specific, such as:

  • a nonresident student who is the dependent of a California resident parent
  • a student member of the U.S. Armed Forces on active duty in California
  • an amateur student athlete training at a U.S. Olympic Training Center in California

What if I am financially independent and I move to California and work there for 366 days before starting school — will I qualify?

Maybe. 

In addition to establishing residency in California for 366 days prior to the start of the term, a self-supporting student must also “be able to verify financial independence for the two full years immediately preceding the term” they plan to enroll.

UC says:

“This requirement makes it extremely difficult for most undergraduates who are not financially dependent on a California-resident parent to qualify for classification as a California resident.”

My neighbor’s son attends a California State University and he doesn’t pay out-of-state tuition. How can I do that at a UC?

The circumstances may be different, so you will need more information.

UC says:

“Residency for purposes of UC tuition is specific to the University of California and separate from the California Community Colleges and California State University systems and may be different from residency for purposes of UC admission and other state rules or regulations governing residency for other purposes.”

My aunt lives in California. Can I just use her address to show that I am a resident?

No.

If a student conceals facts or makes untruthful statements regarding their residency, they are subject to penalty of perjury.

UC says:

“A student must sign the Statement of Legal Residence even if the Student has yet to reach the age of majority; pursuant to State of California law, a Minor may be prosecuted for perjury.”

What about the Nonresident Supplemental Tuition (NRST) exempt classification — how can I qualify?

You may qualify if you meet specific criteria, such as:

Who is the right person to contact for accurate information?

UC says:

“Inquiries regarding UC residency for purposes of tuition should be directed to a campus Residence Deputy in the campus Registrar’s Office or to a Residency Analyst in the Office of the General Counsel of The Regents of the University of California, Office of the President.”

The information provided above is applicable only to nonresident U.S. citizens; and is not comprehensive or all-inclusive. Find out more about residency requirements on the UC website at the Board of Regents Policy 3105 on Residency and Payment or Waiver of Tuition, Non-Resident Supplemental Tuition and Mandatory Systemwide Fees; the UC Residence Policy and Guidelines 2019/2020; and Understanding Residency.

Thoughts and Prayers Aren’t Enough in College Admissions Either

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Earlier this month, I was trying to figure out what day it was.  Rather than look at the calendar, I simply looked at the College Admissions Facebook page on my computer screen.  There was one story about the record low admit rates at Ivy League colleges, four stories about how most colleges admit a vast majority of their applicants, and two or three reminders that it’s all about what you do in college, not where you do it.

“So” I said to myself, “it must be April 10th.” And I was right.

There is something equally comforting and disturbing about the college admissions grieving cycle. It begins in late March, when we all bemoan it’s easier to get struck by lightning than to get admitted to a selective school.  Even the recent admissions scandal, replete with movie stars and lots of cash, played right into the timing of the “ain’t it awful” phase.

Early April gives way to requests for help with aid packages and muffled cries for some kind of reform from the madness of the application process.  Mid-April begins the search for schools willing to accept great kids who somehow ended up with “nowhere” to go, and late April finds us back in the trenches, asking about colleges for really bright juniors who want to study Hungarian and elephants.

This is our version of thoughts and prayers.  Like legislators tackling school safety, we look at the misshapen blob college admissions has become long enough to be horrified, only to get swept away by the need to make the broken system work just one more time, if only for the benefit of next year’s hardworking seniors. Major changes are just too far out of reach, and minor changes make no palpable difference, so we sigh and carry on, hoping a thoughtful social media post or two will somehow turn the tide. Real change, it seems, is beyond our grasp.

It isn’t.  Like anything else that’s out of shape, moving in a new direction requires a little bit of time, and a ton of vision.  No one in this profession is short on vision; they’re stymied by how to bring that vision to life. Here are some starter ideas.

College Admission Personnel who want to open up college access have all kinds of small projects that, when regularly tended to, can take on lives of their own.

  • Buy lunch for someone on your student success team, and get an overview of their work.  What students are doing well once they’re on campus, and which ones aren’t? Is there anything your institution can learn from the success of Georgia State, understanding that student success is far more than a cut and copy endeavor? What does any of this mean about who you’re recruiting—and, more important, if they have no idea who’s succeeding and why, why not?
  • If you have two counselor fly-in programs, cut it to one.  Use the new-found money to hold a three-day College Counselor Workshop for any school counselor in your area with less than five years’ experience.  As a rule, counselor graduate programs teach nothing meaningful about college counseling.  You know the counselors who know their stuff, and you have a NACAC affiliate at your disposal.  Bring them in, and let them train your local rookies.
  • As long as you’re at it, have coffee with the director of your graduate counseling program, and ask them if you can have a three-hour class period to talk about college admission.  Most counselor educators will have the humility to admit they’ve been out of the college admissions game too long, so they’ll give you the time.  Bring along two of your favorite counselors, and the grad students will be begging for more.  If you don’t know what you’d do with those three hours, I have a program that’s in the box and ready to present, and you can have it.
  • Call a test-optional college that looks like yours and ask how it’s going. The argument that test optional is a ruse to raise average test scores means nothing to the bright kid heading to University of Chicago this fall who can’t even spell SAT.  If colleges that look like yours have figured out test scores mean nothing in the application of a straight A student– and they have– maybe your school could open things up, too.

High School Counselors  have eight bajillion kids on their caseloads and duties that have nothing to do with counseling.  That said, find a way to get to work twenty minutes early once a week, and pick one of these projects to work on:

  • Shoot an email to the professional development chair of your NACAC affiliate and volunteer to be a mentor.  Less than thirty graduate programs in the country devote a course to college counseling, and it’s showing.  What you know about this profession will be an oasis to a new counselor, and most of the mentoring can occur through email and phone calls.
  • Look at your messaging about college options.  Do you tell students and parents about test optional colleges, community colleges, or state colleges with amazing residential programs?  Use this time to bring yourself up to speed on the paths your students aren’t taking, then put together a plan for spreading the word to parents and students.
  • When’s the last time you talked college with your middle school and elementary mental health partners?  Opening up postsecondary options is as much a matter of changing the mindset of parents as it is presenting options to students—and if that’s starting in ninth grade, forget it.  Ask your NACAC affiliate for grant opportunities to strengthen your K-8 postsecondary curriculum, and build the partnerships needed to make it work.

No one in this business was surprised last month to discover the wealthy have an advantage applying to college. What may come as a surprise is how much we can change that dynamic by throwing our hearts behind that change with twenty minutes a week, giving tangible shape to our thoughts, prayers, and deepest hopes for this profession.

The Most Essential College Admission

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He was on his way home from just having dropped all his classes at the local community college.  Having graduated from high school sixteen months ago, every one of his postsecondary plans had failed to come to fruition, and the drive home from campus gave him time to ponder what would come next.

As it turns out, he didn’t have to ponder long.  He came across a home construction site on the route home, and had always had an interest working with his hands.  He swung his car up to the site, got out, and asked the first hard-hatted worker just what it might take to get a job like this.  The worker turned out to be the contractor, who said that anyone who had the guts to pull up and ask was worth taking a chance on.  Find yourself a good pair of boots, he was told, and come back tomorrow.

That was the beginning of a postsecondary plan that stuck.  At age nineteen, he took on a job that paid $42,000, less than the median household income for his state, but far more than he would have earned working at the local sandwich shop.  His brief stint at community college left him little debt to be concerned with, and while his short-term plans doubtlessly included continued residency with his parents, it wouldn’t be long before he could afford an apartment of his own—and after that, his own home.

This is a remarkable story for several reasons, but what’s most noteworthy is the response this story receives from the school counselors and college admissions officers who hear it.  To nearly a person, they are convinced this young man has thrown away his future.  Citing countless personal and professional histories, they speak with clear certainty that he will regret his choice by the time he’s twenty-eight, only to find himself saddled with a mortgage or the well-being of a young family, unable to go back to college on a full-time basis, and therefore destined to be trapped in a job that appeared to pay well in his youth, but will limit his opportunities later in life.

This story comes to mind as we are weeks away from headlines that decry a different kind of postsecondary story:  the headlines of another round of record applicants to a handful of the most selective colleges in America, where statistics suggest admission is less likely than being struck by lightning.  Every seat in these colleges will be filled this fall by a promising, eager student, but the headlines turn their attention to the vast majority of exceptionally bright students who also had the potential to do great things at these colleges—except the college ran out of room before they ran out of quality applicants.

The way most stories tell it, these hapless applicants are victims of the postsecondary wheel of fortune, destined to try and make do at a college that likely is still highly regarded, but not quite as highly regarded, forced to devote part of their lives to perpetually looking back, and wondering what would have been if they had been one of the fortunate few whose cell phone had played the school’s fight song when they opened their emailed admissions decision.

Much has been written about the need for reform in America’s higher education system, and while there is ample agreement that the current system has need of correction, there is no clear consensus what that correction should look like.  Not surprisingly, testing companies insist the answer is more testing at an earlier age, while advocates of test-less admissions policies are convinced their approach is the only one that will open the gates of higher learning to a wider audience.  Others advocate for stackable college credentials that measure a semester’s worth of work as the only way to make college affordable, while developmental purists fret this approach would reduce the developmental benefits young people receive in the delayed gratification that is part of the four-year college experience.

These arguments make for interesting intellectual exercises, but they do little to help the students who had to “settle” for studying at the honors college of a four-year public university, or the students whose knowledge of geometry put college out of reach, but made them experts at framing walls and cutting pipe.  Our current system of higher education has many challenges, but the biggest one lies in changing the perception that there can only be a handful of winners once high school is over.  Different talents and different needs require different plans, and honoring those differences doesn’t require us to sacrifice the quality of the unum, simply because we honor the talents of the pluribus.

Our country is supposed to be a tent of opportunity.  Let’s advance that idea by seeing all our high school graduates as residents of the big top.