On the College Waterfront

One of my favorite Sopranos story lines involved Christopher Moltisanti not doing something. Naturally Christopher was involved in a scam, in this case a boiler room pump and dump stock market racket. But that not doing something was taking the Series 7 securities exam. During the test scene, a decidedly Asian-American replied “here” when the proctor called Christopher’s decidedly Italian-American name. The proctor didn’t even blink. I felt for Christopher, as years ago I had taken (and passed all by myself) the Series 7. As an added irony, back then you had to walk by a Federal prison, downtown New York’s Metropolitan Correctional Center, on the way to the nearby test center. Credit the Feds for their not-so-subtle hint/humor.

This all came to mind with the news of high-end bribery and deception in applying to elite colleges. Sure enough, there were allegations of proxies taking the SAT’s instead of the actual students. In one case it is alleged that a student (through their parents’ money) arranged to have a proctor correct mistakes on their bubble sheet. More amazingly, it seems you can pay to have your own private classroom with an individual proctor. And then there are the stories of Photoshopped pictures “proving” the athletic prowess of various candidates

My last college application went into the mail in December, 1982. I get that the world has changed, college admissions is a wild and chaotic place, and elite colleges (and some upper-end public universities) now have a completely different rule book (one that seems unwritten, to the frustration of almost everyone). But flat-out bribing sports coaches and corrupting standardized tests seems extreme—quite literally mob tactics.

Now my own high school experience was definitely not Middle America average. I went to a New England prep school, the kind with lots of red brick buildings and tasteful amounts of ivy covering the walls. There were plenty of kids around with surnames that matched those on the buildings, buildings (and family fortunes) that had been around since the War—that is between the Civil War and WWI. The story went around that in the generation previous to mine two school officials would get together for their annual meeting to figure out who would go to Harvard and Radcliffe. This wasn’t to advise the students, it was to advise the two schools. Applying wasn’t a formality, but not the significant factor back then. And while the final results between “the list” and admission may not have been a perfect match, back then you wanted your name on that list.

By my time the Mr. Chips admissions culture had passed, but certainly not the influence of a name. But not always. A woman a year or two ahead of me had the name of at least one building on Harvard’s campus. A very large building. She was whip smart, great grades, varsity athlete, campus leader, etc., etc. It didn’t occur to anybody that she wouldn’t be headed to Cambridge, that is until she didn’t get in. I think she consoled herself at Princeton or Dartmouth for the next four years. 

This rare exception aside, my recent high school reunion reminded me that on the whole, hard work was the best asset for applicants. A group of my classmates were walking around together on campus and it dawned on me that they all had gone to Harvard. And looking at them, they all deserved it. Each had the top grades in high school; each had natural intellectual gifts that they maximized; each earned their spot. They were now leaders in their various professions; one even ended up with an Olympic medal. My own Harvard quest was probably best summarized in the movie Risky Business when Princeton’s admissions officer declares Joel Goodsen’s record as “Good, but not really Ivy League.” And that would be fair.

We aren’t going to solve the college admissions fairness debate here, and no doubt the moneyed will always have advantages for SAT tutors, legacy pedigrees, and donating a dorm just before junior’s application. But the sad part of this story is that the kids weren’t even trying, weren’t even pretending to play the game. They (and their parents) were making an offer that everyone should have refused.

© 2019 Alexander W. Stephens, All Rights Reserved