Low-Down, Dirt-Poor, Hands-to-Heaven College Application Parental Blues

I haven't posted in more than five weeks, having submitted myself to an alternative form of torture - the "wayward son college application ordeal".

I applied to colleges in the 1970s. And wow. I am not in Kansas any longer.

Talk about a meat grinder, a cellulose processor, a proctology exam, a test of faith, a deal with the devil, a flirtation with death. All rolled into one. Working with my son to submit applications to 10 schools (more shortly on why we applied to 10, and nearly considered to applying to 310) consumed every second of my spare time between November 1 and January 1.

And that does not include the remaining hours (days? weeks?) necessary to submit to his colleges the scores of financial aid forms (CSS, FAFSA, Business/Farm Supplement, copies of W-2's, 1040's, K-1's), and presumably the hours that will also be spent prostrating myself before brooding, punitive financial aid enforcers (hooded, shirtless, broadsword-wielding, teeth-blackened, breath-putrescent).

In the old days, applying to college was a low-key affair. Even the most competitive schools had yet to amp up their application process. We filled out a simple form, wrote a short (laughably bad) essay, sent in our SAT's and perhaps one or two pathetic scores from AP classes, asked our teachers to submit desultory letters of recommendation (I think desultory was the expectation), and all was well.

I grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, where, because of the influence of Princeton University, all of students at Princeton High School - except for me - were good-looking, brilliant, and sexually active. And even I had a positive, low-stress college application experience. I applied to five schools, visited them all (by myself) by train or plane, stayed overnight in the dorms with students, was introduced to the most "on" alcohol and drugs of choice at that school, possibly attended a class (but possibly didn't), and generally learned as little as I could about the school's academics during the time on campus.

Oberlin offered to admit me during my interview. Of course, that immediately destroyed any interest I might have had in going there. Yale and Swarthmore wait-listed me. For somewhat unclear reasons, I preferred Swarthmore (small, nerdy, a place where I was destined to feel lonely and isolated) from Yale (which even then was the coolest school in the world, made even cooler at the time by the omnipresent, titillating threat of being mugged or murdered whenever one stepped three feet beyond the 60-foot high, machine-gun-manned, razor wire walls of the campus).

Because I preferred Swarthmore, I wrote an insincere, ingratiating letter to the Dean of Admissions about how I had wanted to attend Swarthmore ever since I'd learned as a young lad that the college's former president had, heroically and melodramatically, dropped dead of a heart attack in his office during a days-long blockade by gun-wielding black militant students in the late 1960s (trust me, the idea of "black militant students" at Swarthmore would not be so different from casting David Spade as rapper Biggie Smalls in the newly released biopic). I also thought it was cool that the school straddled railroad tracks where depressed students routinely rested their heads just before the Media Local commuter train rattled around the bend, always on schedule with death.

So of course, Swarthmore admitted me. And I lived unhappily ever after. But the point is that college applications back then - for baby boomers - were simply not that big a deal. The parents were not involved. The cost was not outrageous (I think Swarthmore cost about $4,000 for tuition, room, and board my first year). It wasn't very hard to get into a good school. I had one friend with good grades and SAT's, but absolutely no extracurricular activities or awards. He applied (late, if I remember) to only Yale and Harvard. And he got into Yale.

Ahh, times have changed. Let's consider my son. Let's call him "Daniel". Let's consider my son's high school and friends. And let's also consider their infinitesimally small chances of getting into college. And then their even smaller chances of paying for college. And the ensuing acrobatics and pyrotechnics that ensue between November and January to provide our offspring with the slightest extra edge in the battle to bankrupt ourselves so we can plant a sticker on our car window that names some tiny college no one has ever heard of.

"Daniel" attends Garfield High School in Seattle, an urban, predominantly African-American high school of about 1,600 students with deep historic roots in the black community of Seattle. Students attending Garfield include Quincy Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Bruce Lee, and, most recently, NBA Rookie of the Year and All-Star, Brandon Roy.

Garfield is also a feeder school for students in the Seattle Public Schools Accelerated Progress Program, a separate (highly controversial) learning environment for academically gifted students, most of whom are white or Asian. Daniel has been in this program since 1st grade. He has always been very bright, with significant talents in music and writing, but never been the least bit ambitious, driven, or passionate about his schoolwork. He's only done the minimum amount of work necessary to get the grades he wanted, generally at the last minute, and sometimes even then falling short.

What I respect about Daniel is that he is not at all like his father. Daniel places a high value on being happy, and works hard at defining moments of happiness for himself. Everyone at Garfield knows "Danny". He is well-regarded for his kind and unpretentious manner, his generosity of spirit, his loyalty, his great sense of humor, and the delight he takes in just goofing around with friends. In short, he is just the sort of student who has almost no chance of getting into the schools where he would thrive, grow, and achieve the happiness toward which he strives.

So this was our predicament heading into the school year. Ironically, I knew (although no one else possibly could) that Daniel would be more at risk at the less competitive colleges than at the most competitive colleges because he would inevitably float in the middle - contributing in many small and significant ways to the well-being of the school, but only challenging himself to achieve in the classroom in ways that made sense to him. I knew he could handle the work at the top schools (even though his grades might not indicate it) and that he would grow enormously as a person and as a student at one of these schools. I also knew that he would be bored at the lesser colleges (where it might seem he would more easily outperform his peers).

But try laying this argument on the more elite colleges and universities in the country: If you admit me, you can expect me to provide the glue that all communities of young people need to thrive and flourish, but can also expect me to drift a bit academically, particularly at first, not because I cannot handle the work, but because more than anything, I care about the glowing moments of happiness that a life in balance will produce, poking holes in the umbra of campus existence, flooding it with warmth and illumination that transcends and makes palatable the often-dry, exhausting work of studying and learning from books.

So Daniel, surrounded by peers who achieve at superhuman levels (and mindful that he was, first and foremost competing against his superhero high school friends because they were all applying to the same schools), crafted a strategy that involved applying to lots of very good schools, knowing that his odds of getting in were relatively low, but realizing that nonetheless these truly were the schools where he belonged.

Enter his father. The same "in-the-moment" spontaneous approach to life that makes Daniel at once so charming and so infuriating meant that there was no way he would be able to manage the herculean organizational tasks involved with applying to 10 schools on his own At the age of 17, when happiness, spontaneity, and living in-the-moment mean, above all, not spending time with his parents, neither Daniel nor I relished the interactions my efforts to assist him in assembling, thinking about, writing, editing, and submitting the materials for each school's application would require. Would my relationship with Daniel - already a bit like hugging a cactus - survive?

We did one thing right. Daniel decided to apply to Yale Early Action. This was a delusional decision in the sense that he really had no chance. With Harvard and Princeton eliminating their Early Decision programs, every talented kid in the country was instead applying to Yale. Their Early Action numbers soared by 60 percent in two years. This year, the school admitted only 13 percent of these applicants. And after tracking the College Confidential message board like a stalker in the days before the November 15 announcement - where every student waved like flashing badges of glory their 2400 SAT's, 4.0 GPA's, and Perfect 5's on the 10 or 12 AP exams they had taken - I welcomed Daniel's rejection. I think he cared more about going to school where people were smart and happy, not perfect and plastic.

Daniel's rejection from Yale did provide some good news. Yale had removed from play a very large pool of perfectly plastic applicants, who would no longer trouble Daniel and and his friends at the other schools where he was applying. Another piece of good news was that by applying early to Yale, Daniel had gotten his ducks in a row for the Common Application, the allegedly "streamlined" approach to submitting applications to multiple schools. All ten of Daniel's schools relied upon the Common Application, so preparing it for Yale meant that Daniel could focus only on the "supplements" to the Common Application that all schools require.

In truth, these "supplements" were often as daunting as the Common Application. With the nearly ubiquitous January 1 deadline bearing down us during the holiday break, getting each of these applications in order generated enormous stress. The fault lines of our world had already been cracking. My company, which serves legal and financial professionals, faced an uncertain future as the country disintegrated financially. I also had made the mistake of taking on responsibility for my son's high school band jazz website (on the misguided assumption that, after a lifetime of avoiding any commitment to volunteering in any way at all, it was time for me to "give back" to the musical organization that had given so much to my son). Finally, we had no money but were doing our best to create a "festive" holiday mood for our children. Amidst this confusion and stress, I also had to apply pressure on Daniel every day, every hour, to make sure he was focused on his essays and his mind had not drifted off to Facebook or YouTube or The Wire or Madden or a game of Fugitive with his friends.

Daniel did not appreciate this pressure. He understood rationally the importance of these applications, but some, supremely healthy part of himself rebelled against the idea that they should take so much from him, that they should warp his life, distract him from his studies, his music, his own writing, his athletics and his friends (perhaps not so much from his family). And so we drew our hammer and our tongs and went to war for three weeks. Not pervasively and consistently, but intermittently and with savage intent. He swore. I yelled. He slammed doors. I stomped out of the house. We both glowered. As my wife likes to put it, we battled like dinosaurs, the most primal and survival-oriented parts of our brains activated and firing like Gatling Guns.

In the end, Daniel submitted his applications on time. The outcome is now out of his hands. He still needs to nail his grades for this semester, so he and I still posture and bellow from time to time. But the moment of surcease is at hand for him, that point in time when he can relax because his destiny is now with others to determine. Maye this the way someone feels when they walk to the gallows and they realize that all is now with God. Is it a sensation of peace? Or grace? Of fear? I do not know. But at least one can let go. And for a 17-year old who needs to get on with the great adventure of taking on life with both hands and riding it raw, letting go of the college decision-making process must feel pretty damned good.

As for me, I continue to fret and obsess. Beyond the financial aid hurdles, I have taken to crunching numbers and building models to predict various probabilities for admission. A certain, soothing fascination accompanies this mechanical absorption in abstraction because it offers illusions of rationality, understanding, and control in a decision-making universe that is very much not about those things.

I've learned a lot about the empirics of admission, too. For example, at many schools, girls have nearly a 50-percent smaller chance of gaining admission than boys (they apply in much greater numbers). On the other hand, it also helps immensely to apply as a racial minority or as an athlete or as the child of a parent who attended that school. The hot "hook" these days is to be the first person from one's family to attend college. Daniel falls short in all respects. His parents are embarrassingly over-educated. Daniel is so white he is almost translucent. And while he loves sports, his cross-over dribble might not gain him admission to the local middle school.

I have created admissions models that allow me to project the chances that any child will gain admission to a particular school from within a universe of schools to which they've applied (after all, only one school needs to step up and say "I choose you!"). They generally verify the obvious - make sure you have a safety or two. But they also indicate that applying to many fine schools is also not a bad approach.

Whether my models apply in the real world - whether they matter in Daniel's case - remains to be seen. We will know by April 1. Perhaps I will report what happens on that date ... if my mind and body can survive our efforts to figure out how to pay for whatever school does admit Daniel.

Comments

[Sam Koelle]

Funny_Hamlet -- I'd like to think that the admissions deans reading my applications don't use words like crappiness. I would also like it if they communicated in actual English, instead of the garbled syntax and obfuscated insults that are the limits of your writing.

DonHeller -- You have a very good point about competitiveness and challenge not necessarily being linked. I wish I had been more conscious of this when I chose my application targets.

I get the feeling from Mr. Schwartz's tone in this article that he is exaggerating the failings of his son. Some parents understate the often considerable achievements of their children due to humility as well as the "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" phenomenon. Maybe "Daniel" wasn't a prime candidate as far as Yale applicants go. There are only a thousand or so prime Yale candidates in the world.

Mr. Schwartz, in the future, it would be excellent if you would provide us readers with a clearer picture of the situations you describe. As admirable as your understatement is, it is not helpful in what is otherwise a very cogent and enjoyable article. Give us the facts, and let us decide how "Daniel" measures up.

[Frankie Pavia]

as one of danny's friends, i was one calling him over break trying to hang out. let me say, i got the "parents are making me do college apps" response more than once. But also, he appreciated the pressure he got in that he knows he got everything done, and getting to hang out with him after he finished the last app, he was beyond relieved. Anyway, i believe this was a well written article and very true, and i certainly hope that my parents are able to keep me away from distractions and help me with my college applications when the time comes (next year).

[All4ME]

You make some misleading and derogatory statements here. I realize you are attempting to be funny, but I hope no one -- including your son -- takes your word for any of this.

--'Yale students are "perfect and plastic".' You retracted, but I am still mystified how you could come to that judgment while walking around the campus. None of the Yalies I know (including my child) fit that description.

--"omnipresent, titillating threat of being mugged or murdered whenever one stepped three feet beyond the 60-foot high, machine-gun-manned, razor wire walls of the campus -- Uh, Peter, which Yale did you visit? Yale, East Berlin? Yale, Gulag Archipelago? Yale has one of the most beautiful college campuses in the world. Everyone, please visit.

[All4ME]

(part deux)

--'Girls have 50% less chance of admission.' What? Where? Which schools? I don't know any college stats in which this is true. Data needed!

-- "It helps immensely to be a minority, a legacy, etc. " It is one factor but never the most important factor, it probably doesn't help 'immensely' but only 'somewhat' all else being equal.

-- "he would be bored at the lesser colleges (where it might seem he would more easily outperform his peers). " You don't know that. Every parent thinks his/her child can "easily outperform his peers". And, sir, what are "lesser colleges"? There are only colleges that are 'a good fit' or 'a bad fit' for any given student.

Generalizing Yalies: funny, happy, scruffy, intense, wry, interesting, and incredibly hard workers, although most of them hide it and make it look easy. They got there on the steam of their brains working overtime for years, and not because a parent nagged them. Actually, nagging backfires.

(FWIW: my kids would hate it if I wrote an article with this much revealing information about them)

[dsc6]

My situation with my dd was very similar, however, she does have the grades and scores. So that part was easier. Some kids have trouble thinking that far ahead. In the case of my dd, she is completely caught up in her senior year, and is trying hard not to think about all the changes coming up. A huge step into the unknown. Some kids attack that face on; some kids try to ignor it till they start packing for college! She is one who would start thinking about college August after graduating from HS!! AND, the process is fairly ridiculous now. Way more required of the kids than in my day. Good grief, it's like having a part-time job, is applying to colleges. My dd had no idea where she might like to go to school, so I was very active in the researching phase. Tried to find a bit of everything.

You know after the app process is done, then there is all the scholarship applying/searching, and doing the financial aid stuff. It doesn't begin to end when the Common App and supplements are sent off.

[linfort]

Peter, I hope you do a follow up and let us know what happened with all that blood, sweat, and tears. I have been reading a corresponding thread on CC, and I would love to know where the story flows to. Best of luck to you and "Daniel".

[Mimi Gu]

As a 17-year-old, I am unbelievably jealous. My parents did absolutely nothing to help me in the college application. Additionally, they've shoved copies of their 1040's, w-2, etc. at me, expecting me to "figure it out" (though I suppose I should thank them for even bothering to do that.) I think "Daniel" should be incredibly grateful for your support, because compared to that of my parents (or lack thereof,) your concern and aid would have been a godsend.

Thanks for the article! It was comforting to read.

[Y1611]

Peter, My 2 children attend or attended Yale. Your essay was interesting to read, except your describing Yale applicants and students as "perfectly plastic applicants" and "perfect and plastic" not "smart and happy" people as compared to your son, is mean spirited and incorrect, as most Yale students are "smart and happy" , not perfect and plastic, and willing to do the work to gain acceptance and the work necessary to obtain a Yale degree.

[Peter Schwartz - Huffpost Blogger]

I have to apologize for that characterization. As my post indicated, I actually love Yale, and always have, and truly wanted my son to be able to attend college there. The campus (once again) blew me away when we visited last Spring. I agree with your portrayal of the students there as smart and happy.

My reference to "perfectly plastic" was more intended to address the glossy, almost plastic perfection of the kids applying to Yale Early Action who were posting on the College Confidential website. The focus on their perfect SATS, perfect GPAs, and perfect AP tests was overwhelming, intimidating, and off-putting.

But you are absolutely right that most kids at Yale are not like that. I still think it's the best college in the world. Again, I apologize for my remarks and think you are totally right to call me out on it.

[linfort]

So we DO have to push them and prod them along in order to provide them with all of the opportunities that are waiting for them, when they are ready to experience them. So, I say, scream and fight like dinosaurs for a month or two now and get them set for later, and then let them return to experiencing their happiness in their daily lives as fully as life will let them. Great article.

[linfort]

This is a continuation of the post below.

[linfort]

I think as parents we know what our children are capable of, before they know it themselves. It is an inner connection, based on solid "feelings" about what is best. We know what we know. When our children are in the position of living their high school lives, they don't "know what we know" about their future. We know that they will thrive in an atmosphere that has a challenging curriculum and all of the other benefits of a top level college and they will benefit greatly in the end when they graduate. However, by the time that our children that are focused on today's moment, who are not hung up on their future, reach that point where they are ready to take on the task of looking ahead, it is too late. They would be seniors, on the cusp of graduation before they are ready to look at what is next. This does not mean that they are any less bright or talented or ready for the college experience. They just would choose to arrive on a later train. As parents, we know this and also know what will happen to them if they don't get it all done now. We have been granted the vision and maturity that is still developing in our high school children.

[DonHeller]

Peter (and others -- parents and prospective students -- like him): Let me give you a little advice from someone who knows about admissions issues from a professional perspective (but does not work in admissions). You said:

"Ironically, I knew (although no one else possibly could) that Daniel would be more at risk at the less competitive colleges than at the most competitive colleges because he would inevitably float in the middle - contributing in many small and significant ways to the well-being of the school, but only challenging himself to achieve in the classroom in ways that made sense to him."

This is a mistaken assumption on your part. You equate a school's "competitiveness" with whether Daniel would be challenged there academically. The truth is that even the brightest student may find himself more challenged at a less competitive school. The trick is to find the best match between Daniel's interests and the school's offerings. Daniel may actually find himself more engaged, and therefore apply himself more, in a school that I'm guessing was outside of your radar screen . The assumption that academic challenge is inversely correlated with a school's admittance rate is a mistaken one.

You may also want to check out The Education Conservancy (www.educationaconservancy.org). It has lots of materials about helping students find the best college match for them.

[GreatCollegeAdvice]

This is an entertaining article. As a professional educational consultant to students and their families as they pursue entry to competitive colleges, I don't really agree with Funny_Hamlet. From my reading, Peter's son actually has a better perspective on this process than does his father. And his father readily admits this.

I do agree that some students and parents can get so hung up on name brands that they lose sight of the fact that there are many paths to a good education for a bright student--and many paths to happiness and success.

I also agree that the Common Application is in no way "common" to all colleges, and this is (in part) why independent counselors like me stay busy. The process is daunting, and many students do need some support. I try to do it in a way that avoids slamming doors and stomping around the house like dinosaurs. But the process is, indeed, grueling, and perhaps one day we'll find a better way to do this admissions game.

In the meantime, start planning early if you are thinking about admissions to selective schools. Waiting until late fall is not wise.

Thanks for a provocative post, Peter!

[Erickay]

Peter, Best of luck to you and your son. Thanks for writing so eloquently about the pains of pre-college parenthood and trying to guide your duckling to the life he wants to live, whether he appreciates it or not. You seem to have a good grasp of reality about your son and his gifts. If only the colleges could know our kids as we know them! I firmly believe it's not so much about the college they go to as it is about the family they came from.... when it comes to outcomes. He'll be fine! You'll be fine, also!

[Funny Hamlet]

Oh, Peter-- You made the process much more difficult than it had to be by injeceting yourself so far into it your son just couldn't do it by himself. The dreaded phrase "the pressure was on US" tells me that you micromanaged his applications and made his life miserable during all this time. You constantly put him down, comparing him to his "superhero" friends and refusing to let him find a few colleges he might be comfortable at, instead aiming for the name brands. I pity both of you. I'm a former admission dean at an extremely competitive East Coast college, and college counselor at a tony high school, so I've met you, so to speak. It's not pretty.
It's a shame that the college admission process has led you to think that your son "falls short in all respects" because he sounds like a terrific kid. For the rest of this school year, I hope you and he can try to enjoy each other's company,and I hope you'll put the crappiness of the process behind you and enjoy him for who he is rather than what you think he should be for colleges, You don't have that much time left with him at home. When he comes home from college for the first time, no matter where he goes, he will be a changed man. I hope by then you'll have enough perspective to laugh at this whole thing and love him for who he is.