“Unfair,” “impersonal,” “stressful,” “judgmental,” and even “cruel,” “harsh,” or “crushing.” These are the responses I routinely hear from students and families at workshops and webinars when asked what words they associate with “college admission.” As a counselor, it is disheartening to hear what should be a time of opportunity, hope, and excitement shrouded in feelings of despair and anxiety. Missing are words like “empathy,” “compassion,” “grace,” and “inspiration.”
Unfortunately, news headlines reinforce the angst about how selective the process has become, with stories that focus on a small subset of colleges and universities over which our culture obsesses. We are led to believe that it is impossible to be admitted to college and that success in life is a zero-sum game that is largely dependent on being admitted to one of these institutions. Quickly, students and parents lose perspective on what matters. Meanwhile, college admission leaders, perceived as gatekeepers to opportunity, are often vilified–their intentions, decisions, and priorities are questioned and condemned.
To be sure, there is a lot of room for improvement in the admission process. It is inherently inequitable, ruled by harmful rankings, and increasingly complicated to navigate. It is also human, and as such can be meaningful and moving, highlighted by moments of connection and kindness. This is demonstrated in two similar stories from this admission cycle that challenge the dominant narrative of callousness and serve as reminders of our shared humanity. In each instance, admission leaders were informed by high school counselors about applicants to their college with a parent whose health was rapidly failing. In both circumstances, fortunately, the student was slated to be accepted, which provided special opportunities.
At Connecticut College, Andrew Strickler, dean of admission and financial aid, learned that a young woman who was to be admitted through their early decision plan was losing her father to cancer. Days before he passed, and in advance of the planned notification date, Strickler drove to the applicant's house to deliver the good news of her acceptance. This was especially meaningful because, for Strickler, it is personal. He explains, “I have seen firsthand the reality of cancer. When I was 16 years old, my 13-year-old brother was diagnosed with leukemia. I watched him navigate chemotherapy, which is immeasurably awful.” During the summer before Strickler’s senior year of college, his brother, a recent high school graduate, passed away. Later, when Strickler was in his late twenties, he lost his lifelong best friend to cancer. He says, “It ate my friend up and took him away from us in nine months.”
Fast forward thirty years, and this fall, the Connecticut College applicant wrote her college essay about her father’s March 2020 cancer diagnosis. Strickler says, “When we got the phone call that he had taken a turn for the worse, and was highly unlikely to live four weeks until our release date, the answer was obvious. I asked the counselor to give my cell number to the applicant's mother and have her call me.” He adds, “getting admitted to college is special and should be celebrated, no matter the institution and the timeline. We knew we were going to admit her due to her academic and personal characteristics, and her father deserved to see her receive and open the offer of admission. It was the most human of gifts we could provide–one that allowed them to celebrate this life occasion together, as a family.”
In holistic admission, applications are not read in a void without consideration of context and humanity. Stickler emphasizes, “I want my admission staff to ride the emotional waves that come with reading applications and to hear the life experiences (good and bad) of our applicants.” He adds, “empathy and sympathy are at the core of what we do. When we lose it, we lose our moral compass, which is essential.”
Just up the road at Trinity College, dean of admission and financial aid, Matthew Hyde was made aware that a young man in their early application pool was facing the same tragic reality. The student’s father was losing a battle with cancer and though the son was to be admitted, the news would not be going out for weeks–time the family didn’t have. Trinity arranged for the student and his parents to celebrate his future together just before the father passed.
Hyde points out that “too many people are consumed by the frenetic, unproductive energy that swirls about selective college admission.” He adds, “as a point of fact, at its core, the craft of building a college community is a human endeavor…with humanity at its core. Our work is rooted in, and fueled by, small, human moments–ones full of care and connection.” Like Strickler, Hyde, who has also lost a brother, does not separate his work from his lived experience. He says, “I have children and I forever want to know that they are safe, healthy, and happy. There is absolute comfort when that knowledge is firmly in hand. If and when we can provide that brand of comfort for a family managing so much uncertainty and heartache, sign us up.”
Readers might be surprised to learn of the many examples such as these. Despite perceived bureaucracy and selectivity, college admission is grounded in personalization and compassion. Angel Pérez, CEO of the National Association for College Admission Counseling (NACAC) says, “college admission officers are some of the kindest, most empathetic people I’ve ever met. They chose this profession because they care deeply about students and want to make a difference in the world. I’ve seen them cry in the admissions committee when a student is turned down, and hand deliver acceptance letters to student homes to celebrate with their families.” He adds, “some have even saved the lives of international students by accepting them into college and helping them escape dangerous situations in their home countries. Admission officers are the unsung heroes who keep up the good fight, despite the increasing headwinds they face.” Case in point, Stickler says, “I can't think about this young lady, this family, and this circumstance without crying. I am excited to welcome her to campus and to look over her for the next four years.”
College admission must be kept in perspective, and the impermanence of life is a stark reminder of this. Hug your loved ones close and allow for grace and connection to lead you forward. While accepting the unpredictability of admission, trust in humanity, and the good intentions of the educators doing their best to build a supportive community of learners.
