iAdmissions

The newest edition of Fortune magazine lists the world’s most admired companies. The top four, in order, are Apple, Google, Berkshire Hathaway and Southwest Airlines (see a related post from 2010 here). Not particularly surprising to see them all at the top of the list. They are certainly leaders in innovation, thinking and profit-making in their respective industries.

As discussed on Morning Joe last week with Fortune’s editor-in-chief, the other attribute these companies share is founders and/or CEOs who are tremendous risk takers. They are all out-of-the-box thinkers and willing to throw caution to the wind in pursuit of their vision. They perceive the future in a way the rest of us are desperate to grasp.

Doesn’t sound like our industry, does it? Prep schools are not really risk-taking places and with few exceptions, there aren’t many schools that could literally afford to accept risky behavior from their admissions director. But our work has evolved in so many ways and there are certainly some industry leaders. I would imagine the names coming into your head right now are the names of which I’m thinking, too.

Somebody had to be the first to try having a school website, the first to see the future of Facebook and create a school page, the first to harness Skype to conduct an interview, the first to take an iPad to a fair, the first to create a school app.

And we haven’t lacked for out-of-the-box thinking either. Concepts like enrollment management, net tuition revenue, and geodemographics have all been introduced to our industry since I joined it. Remember when we had more financial aid than demand? Someone had to first think how best to maximize it and spread the wealth when we started to finally run short (due to our own fault as tuition increases outpaced cost of living increases for over a decade).

What’s next? I can assure you I haven’t a clue. But it’s inspiring to be in the game and see the big thinkers wrestle with how we make our offices and our schools more successful, more efficient, and more committed to serving students. It’s exciting to consider how we stay current, relevant, and at the front of the pack.

My guess is it’ll be somehow associated with an Apple product. iAdmissions? It beats boarding-licious!

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

A Charlie Brown Christmas was on television last week: what a classic! In watching it one can’t help but remember their childhood, the many times they have seen it over the years. In watching it, I started to wonder if such a show would ever be created today. What are the chances as we creep up on 2011 that a modern children’s holiday special would be so overtly Christmas-y as to feature a scene with a child reciting from the Gospel of St. Luke?

But please don’t stop reading—I promise this isn’t a post about political correctness! It’s about being true to who you are. Without sounding judgmental, I imagine any newly created holiday special would include a carefully crafted balance of gender, race and religion, maybe finding a uniting thread across the folds as the theme of the show. This is all good...in theory.

But in doing so, don’t they risk losing any meaningful message, becoming nothing to anyone by endeavoring to be something to everyone?

And there is the risk to our schools and our offices, particularly in difficult times. When we stretch our definition of who we are and whom we serve we run that same risk of becoming nothing to anyone. When we relax (which is just a nice word for “compromise”) our admissions standards and criteria, we risk diluting our institutions. We dilute our professionalism and credibility. And we fail to serve school, student or self.

Today on Morning Joe, it was asked of Congressman Zach Wamp (R-TN) what marked a quality legislator during these difficult times. “Consistency” was his answer. The mark of a congressman (or that of an admissions director) was being consistent in your convictions even during the difficult times, even when faced with challenges. As adults we know the difficulties and challenges will come to pass. They always do.

How we managed them—and ourselves—will be our legacy.