My last post, dealing with President’s Office interference in the admissions process at the University of Texas at Austin, was written under duress. “Duress” might be too strong a word, because no one was holding a gun to my head or threatening my children.
I should also be clear that the “duress” was self-imposed. On Tuesday, March 3, I had knee replacement surgery, and not knowing how I would feel in the aftermath, wanted to publish a post on the Texas situation the previous day. The surgery went well, I seem to be recovering as well as or better than expected, and I’ve developed a new appreciation for the DuPont slogan, “Better Living Through Chemistry.” But it is only now, three weeks after surgery, that I am starting to feel the urge to write.
That urge may have nothing to do with the surgery and everything to do with the biorhythms of blogging. It’s been two and a half years since I started Ethical College Admissions, and it is almost certainly the most rewarding thing I’ve done in my professional life. Finishing a post and finding my “take” on a subject is an endorphin rush like no other.
Long before I ever thought about joining the blogosphere (or had any idea that such a thing existed), I remember hearing my friend Jeannine Lalonde (better known as Dean J, author of the Notes From Peabody blog for the admissions office at the University of Virginia) talk about how blogging had changed her life, such that the first thing she does each morning is check her two blogs (she also writes one on design). I couldn’t do a daily blog, as I struggle to carve out time to think and write, but if I go two weeks without posting I start to feel the way I do when I go too long without chocolate.
Jeannine talked about seeing a blog as a conversation with readers. That, of course, assumes that there are people reading the blog (if a blog post falls in the forest and no one reads it, does it make any impact?). When I began writing I had no idea if I had anything worth saying, if I could discipline myself to write on a regular basis, or if anyone would care. I was shocked the first time someone mentioned that they had read and liked the blog, and it is gratifying to know that there are a number of people out there who care about the same issues I do. According to the ClustrMaps analytic tool, the last post drew the 20,000th visitor to the site.
I am particularly appreciative of those ECA readers who reach out either to express support or to challenge my thinking. After the Texas post there were two I want to highlight who supported my overall position but challenged me on specific points.
Steve LeMenager’s comment took issue with a point I made regarding the principle of fairness. The Kroll report indicates that the students admitted to UT-Austin by the President’s Office over the objections of the Admissions Office did not take the place of an already admitted applicant but increased the size of the freshman class, and I suggested that was, if not “better” and “more fair,” at least not as ethically objectionable. Steve suggests that both the report and I might be naïve (my word, not his). He correctly points out that admissions in a “hyper-selective” (his word, not mine) institution are zero-sum, that any decision to admit one student is by necessity a decision not to admit other students, and that thinking of admissions slots as finite helps an institution focus on its priorities. Steve worked at Princeton, so he has experience and perspective that I don’t have. He allows that it might be different at a public university, but I think he is right and that my thinking was sloppy. I’m also encouraged to know that hyper-selective institutions struggle over the fairness piece involved with admitting a class.
The other communication was an e-mail from Jon Boeckenstedt at DePaul. Jon is someone whose voice and perspective I value, and I am particularly envious of his ability to organize and analyze data (here’s a link to Jon’s blog). Jon quibbled (his word) with a statement I made that was almost a throwaway.
One of the things that struck me when reading the Kroll report was the impact of the Texas law that guarantees admission to students in the top 10% of their class in Texas high schools. 75% of the spaces in the freshman class at UT-Austin come through the Top 10% program, including most of the spaces in certain academic programs. The Kroll report suggests that UT-Austin would like to be holistic in admissions but that the 10% law prevents its ability to do so because of the legal mandate to put emphasis on a single factor, class rank. The report also suggests that the 10% law results in students admitted who are less qualified and less likely to succeed, a claim I repeated.
Jon called me out on that point, citing a study published by a conservative think tank, the National Bureau of Economic Research, that shows that students who benefit from the Top 10% law perform and graduate no differently than students with similar credentials who are just outside the top 10% of their high school classes. Jon further points out that the real culprit is that too many of us accept uncritically the notion that students with higher SAT scores are more “qualified” for college. Jon’s point is a good one, and I plead guilty to leaping to that conclusion.
There is a more interesting philosophical question here. How much does it matter what admissions criteria we use? The argument for holistic admission review is that it allows an institution to take into consideration and value a broader spectrum of qualities, thereby producing a “better” class. But better than what? If the Texas Top 10% rule produces a student body that is just as successful in terms of GPA and graduation, does holistic review add any value other than the flexibility and discretion to admit students the university wants to admit for other reasons?
During the Bakke case, the first Supreme Court case involving the use of affirmative action in college admissions, a major argument put forth by foes of affirmative action was that affirmative action programs admitted less qualified applicants. But if a student is admitted to medical school and then successfully graduates and becomes a doctor, does it ultimately matter how they were admitted?
Part of me says yes and part of me says no. If the point of medical school is to produce doctors and the admissions process admits a student who completes the curriculum and practices medicine, then the student is qualified and the admissions process has accomplished its mission. But in a hyper-selective admissions environment where admission is a zero-sum process, fairness requires that the criteria used for admission be relevant and predictive for every applicant.
I would like to argue that the sloppy thinking pointed out by Steve and Jon were caused by the duress of my upcoming surgery, but the truth is that it comes from the duress found inside my head on a daily basis.