My last two posts were rather related—the first time I’d done that. And I’m here to tell you that I think this one is now a third in the series. It is not intentional but it is how I’m thinking these days. I must be doing something right, however, as Admissions Quest picked up my blog and highlighted it during the TABS Conference last week in Boston. Thanks, Admissions Quest!
I have been writing about denying admission to candidates—either because they are a bad fit for our schools or because there is far more demand than spaces, and difficult choices have to be made. Saying no is rarely easy and never fun, even when it is the right thing. For my whole career, however, being denied admission is something I have tried not to have come as a total surprise.
Nobody likes bad surprises. Nobody.
Of course, there is a difference between my effort to convey information and feedback that should lead to no surprises and a family’s willingness or openness to hearing said information. Like when we were children, parents sometimes metaphorically cover their ears and wail nahnahnahnahnah (is that how you spell that??) in order to not hear what you are telling them.
There are a number of things we can do. First, while nobody likes to be held to cut-offs, we can certainly publish on our websites or in our materials the range that a typical admitted student might have for a GPA or test score. We can be upfront about the number of applications we expect or have historically received relative to the number of spaces available. We can disclose legacy or sibling policies, the role of athletics in decision-making and even where we place our institutional priorities for enrollment.
We can provide tactful feedback to parents, placement directors or consultants after we have received information or met an applicant that s/he “does not appear to fall within the norms of the typical student” to whom we offer admission. I have gone so far as to contact a family and shared that something I have in front of me indicates that the admissions committee would have a difficult time offering their child admission and give them the opportunity to withdraw from consideration. (And, no, I don’t give a damn about my deny rate that I’m forced to parade in front of those who revel in such petty things. Allowing a family to graciously withdraw and focus their efforts elsewhere is the humane thing to do.)
As I said before, parents can choose to hear none of this. My experience, however, is that they will have heard it, even if only subconsciously at first. I always put some time and space between an unhappy family who has just received a denial letter and when I will respond to their call or email. That time and space typically allows them to calm down, reflect on the admissions process and information they had, and usually (although not always!) admit to themselves that a denial of admission should not have come as a complete surprise to them.
Usually.
I have been writing about denying admission to candidates—either because they are a bad fit for our schools or because there is far more demand than spaces, and difficult choices have to be made. Saying no is rarely easy and never fun, even when it is the right thing. For my whole career, however, being denied admission is something I have tried not to have come as a total surprise.
Nobody likes bad surprises. Nobody.
Of course, there is a difference between my effort to convey information and feedback that should lead to no surprises and a family’s willingness or openness to hearing said information. Like when we were children, parents sometimes metaphorically cover their ears and wail nahnahnahnahnah (is that how you spell that??) in order to not hear what you are telling them.
There are a number of things we can do. First, while nobody likes to be held to cut-offs, we can certainly publish on our websites or in our materials the range that a typical admitted student might have for a GPA or test score. We can be upfront about the number of applications we expect or have historically received relative to the number of spaces available. We can disclose legacy or sibling policies, the role of athletics in decision-making and even where we place our institutional priorities for enrollment.
We can provide tactful feedback to parents, placement directors or consultants after we have received information or met an applicant that s/he “does not appear to fall within the norms of the typical student” to whom we offer admission. I have gone so far as to contact a family and shared that something I have in front of me indicates that the admissions committee would have a difficult time offering their child admission and give them the opportunity to withdraw from consideration. (And, no, I don’t give a damn about my deny rate that I’m forced to parade in front of those who revel in such petty things. Allowing a family to graciously withdraw and focus their efforts elsewhere is the humane thing to do.)
As I said before, parents can choose to hear none of this. My experience, however, is that they will have heard it, even if only subconsciously at first. I always put some time and space between an unhappy family who has just received a denial letter and when I will respond to their call or email. That time and space typically allows them to calm down, reflect on the admissions process and information they had, and usually (although not always!) admit to themselves that a denial of admission should not have come as a complete surprise to them.
Usually.
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