Larry vs. Piers

I’m catching up on the news and on my thinking: forgive me.  But before the holidays Larry King finally spoke up on his thoughts regarding what Piers Morgan has done with his former time slot and show on CNN.  Larry had two criticisms; I’ll tell you both but focus on one

First (and not my focus) is that Piers has opinions and he shares them.  If you care about such things and follow them (and sadly, I do, on both accounts), CNN leans to the left and can be (and has been) accused of being bias towards politicians of the Democratic party.  Not shocking news, to be sure.  But they are certainly more subtle than the likes of MSNBC or Fox News, who beat you over the head with their excessively and exceedingly political biases.  So, Larry faults Piers for being too transparent in his beliefs.  It’s probably an old school journalism versus a new school journalism thing.  Personally, it’d be nice to think that all journalists are neutral but I suppose that’s against human nature.  And if it is, I rather they be upfront and transparent.

Where my thoughts have focused on this topic is regarding preparation for the interview.  Larry did no preparation and did not have a research staff.  Apparently he approached every interview truly clueless about the subject and used his questions for the purpose of revealing for himself—and his audience—the story behind the subject.  He wanted no bias going onto the set and truly approached each guest with a sincere wonderment and curiosity.  He was known for sometimes even asking the most basic of questions, leaving his audience wondering if he was the only person left on earth that didn’t know something.  But what you saw was genuine and real and for those in the audience who didn’t know much of the guest, Larry was asking the questions they would ask if they had just such an opportunity.

Piers, on the other hand, has a full research team.  He goes in fully armed and prepared with his questions.  He tries to find out things that everyone else doesn’t already know and attempts to pick up where other interviews or questions left off. 

This all got me thinking what might make an appropriate approach for interviewing applicants.  I always review whatever we have on a student before I meet them.  If we don’t have much, I request we try to gather some basics when the appointment is scheduled or at least have a full inquiry form completed upon their arrival.  Doing this allows me to pick up on a theme in an essay they wrote or to inquire about the community service projects they have listed.  It is as though I’m entering the conversation already half begun.  And, of course, I expect the same of them.  Don’t waste my time asking if we offer soccer.  If that’s important to you, you should have figured out long before your visit to campus.

But what if I went the route of Larry King?  What if I read nothing in advance and approached each applicant interview genuinely curious and sincerely in need of starting at square one?  Would it seem I didn’t care enough to prepare or would I appear truly interested?  Interviews would certainly be longer as I tried to gather the basics but maybe they’d be more engaging, the two of us truly learning about each other, from the beginning. 

As always, I don’t know.

Parents

A number of years ago at NAIS, I paid to attend one of those pre-conference workshops.  Actually, my school paid.  Michael Thompson was the presenter and I think he is simply amazing.  I have heard him numerous times; you may have, too.  You probably know the name: he’s a guru in the independent school world and a god in the boys’ school world for his expertise as a school psychologist. 

His workshop was aimed at teachers about how best to understand and work with independent school parents, particularly around the all-important parent/teacher conference.  I assumed there was something I could extrapolate to our world and to the all-important parent/admissions meeting and relationship.  It was excellent!  23 years in education and it remains one of the best things I have ever attended.

For all of you who haven’t heard Thompson speak about this, he has now co-authored with Alison Mazzola a small book on this very topic: Understanding Independent School Parents.  It’s less than 100 pages with big font and I read it cover-to-cover in less time than it took to fly from London to Moscow.  I highly recommend it and now the entire administrative team at my school is reading it.

The book is in roughly three sections.  1. Understanding independent school parents.  2.  Working with the 95% who are sane and rational.  3.  Tips for working with the insane and irrational!  I think it behooves all of us and our offices to understand in particular who are our parents and what is their perspective.  Less helpful but still worth the read is the strategies for working with them.  Teachers simply have different relationships than we do with parents. 

So, some highlights:

Thompson reminds us that our parents make up the smallest, wealthiest, most successful people in America.  They are highly educated and one, if not both, is highly successful.  They exercise a great deal of control, are often the smartest person in the room, and others typically report to them or defer to them. 

And then they show up at our schools.  And on the topic of children, education, developmental readiness, and curriculum, they are no longer the smartest person in the room, we are in control, and they must defer to us to help them understand their child in the context of education.  This is unfamiliar territory for them, they can easily become uncomfortable, and they may struggle with news or decisions they don’t like (e.g. denied admission, doing poorly in school).

What can we do?

Thompson recommends three steps for the 95%.  1. Engage them about their child.  Ask them about their hopes and fears and then be a good listener.  If you invite them and successfully get them to speak intimately with you about their child, you will create a bond and forever alter the dynamic of your relationship with them.  2. “Claim the child.”  As we all know from the research of NAIS, a good deal of the value added independent schools provide is that each child is “known”.  Demonstrate that you have read the application and supporting documents and that to you their child is a person and you “know them” (as best you can at this point), not just another applicant or a number in your database.  3.  Be professional.  These parents are professionals and so are you so don’t let them forget it.  Just because they may make exponentially more money, doesn’t make you less a professional.  Start and end on time, be prepared, and follow up as needed.  For Lower School admissions folks or teachers, Thompson goes so far as to suggest you be sure to dress the part of a professional and not like someone who spends their day sitting on the floor leading reading circles or playing with dragons.  (Again, that was Thompson, not me!, saying that, dear Lower School admissions colleagues.)

At the end of the day, Thompson reminds us that these are parents we want: they have chosen to allocate their resources for their child’s education.  We have all worked with wealthy parents who could afford our schools but who won’t give up the shore house or the boat or the annual family ski trip to Switzerland and their kids remain in public school. 

Our parents made a different choice, a better choice.

Diversity

Diversity.  I hate the word.  Don’t get me wrong: I’m not anti-diversity.  Just the opposite.  I proudly helped bring the Steppingstone Foundation to Philadelphia when I worked there and I think boarding schools are the best opportunity for diversity and it’s why I work in one.  I believe in the broadest sense of the word and feel it is our moral obligation to be sure it’s a cornerstone of any proper, thoughtful education.

But I hate the word diversity.  I’d like to rid it from the vernacular and require everyone to articulate exactly what they mean instead of hide behind this catchall word.  I’ve seen far too many charts and reports and accountings under the umbrella of diversity that are either insufficient or superficial.  Or both.

And what does that look like?  Well, first of all, it doesn’t look like anything.  If you think you can look through the window of a classroom door and count the number of diverse students, then you need to get your head out of the early 1990’s.  Students who appear different can be very similar and students who look similar can be very different.  It is only in opening that door and spending time in that classroom that you can truly appreciate the kaleidoscope of experience made rich by the students found therein.

You can check off the easy categories that jump to mind: race, religion, economic means, sexual orientation, and geography (by zipcode for day schools or by countries and states for boarding schools).  But what about sexual orientation of parents?  But why do we assume parents to be plural?  A student from a mother/father home brings a different perspective than a student from a father/father home or a student who was raised by only one parent or no parent at all and has been raised by another relative.  How about students whose family emigrated from another country?  Maybe their parents don’t speak English at home.  How about the white, urban kid who wakes at 6am in order to take two busses and a subway to get to school who sits next to the white, rural kid who wakes at 6am to work on the family farm before coming to school?  And there are differences in learning styles, personalities, abilities, interests, passions, etc.

The list goes on and I’m sure as you read this a category jumps to your own mind that did not cross mine.  But isn’t that the point?  Isn’t the diversity of diversity the challenge?  It requires a school and an admissions dean to determine exactly what they desire and what they value, and then what they will measure.

Students and education and all of us are made better, made stronger by finding our voice and vocabulary to share our unique perspective, and our values and faith and beliefs are made stronger when we must explain if not defend them to others.  We are made further better and stronger by an openness to “other” and not simply to hear or even appreciate but to be willing to be shaped and changed by other, such that other is now part of us.  The exchange must be two way.  In a strong school setting, each student will find their own voice so that they may share and help others learn as well as develop their capacity to change so that they my learn from and be developed by others.

As ones who have the opportunity to orchestrate the social engineering of our schools, we are obligated to do more than fill charts and check off boxes of diversity.  We are obligated to generate and perpetuate the discussion of what a 21^st century school and education should reflect and to be sure we are doing so from within the classroom and not simply through the looking glass of the classroom door.

Awesome

Welcome to the new year!

The start of school is always so exciting.  For families and for the whole community but I would suggest especially for those of us staffing the admissions office at our schools.  Our work from the last 12 months is literally walking through the front door.  These new students are beaming with pride, proudly sporting our uniforms or maybe a school hoodie they grabbed in our bookstore.  They are anxious and nervous and hopeful and excited.  And so are their parents!

They walk through those doors for the first time with grand plans of what they will accomplish, excited by dreams and goals they will chase.  You scan their faces in the opening assembly, remembering when you interviewed them in your office, or maybe half way around the world.  You remember the endless questions and emails from their parents.  You remember the discussions and debates of the Admissions Committee.  But that’s all behind you now.  They are here and you are here and it is the start of school.  Welcome to the new year.

And then you do what you rarely allow yourself the time to do: you remind yourself—just quietly and just to yourself—that you have changed the trajectory of every kid’s life anxiously sitting in that room listening to new student orientation.  Because of you, they now have immeasurable opportunities found in your school’s programs, offerings, facilities and campus.  They have teachers and administrators who will put them at the center of their lives and challenge, encourage, support and mentor them.  They have peers and classmates who share their academic drive, their commitment to success and accomplishment, and their seriousness of purpose.

In the truest sense of the overused word, what you have done is awesome.

And it doesn’t stop there.  Any school—actually, every school—is shaped by the students who attend it.  The culture, the tenor, the ethos, the character of the place comes from the kids.  You may have an amazing campus and a dedicated faculty and a strategic thinking administration but all of that is for naught if you don’t have the right kids.  You’re the one who recruits and admits and enrolls those kids.  And the school moves in the direction of those students and with their boundless momentum.  Your kids.  The ones who are there because of you.  Before you reset the admissions cycle and your spreadsheets back to zero and launch a new season, stop and take a look around.  Take pride in your work, in your kids.  It will affect the school for generations to come.

You change the lives of children and you shape the future of schools.  You are awesome.  You are an admissions professional.  Welcome to the new year.

St. Thomas Church

If you like flawless liturgy and heavenly music, then you should visit St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue in New York City.  It is “the” Episcopal church in Manhattan.  It was founded—and funded—by Rockefellers, Vanderbilts, Astors, Morgans and the rest of the American aristocracy.  You know, all those people with places in Newport!  It also has a small, 5^th-8^th boarding school for boy choristers, with around a dozen graduates each year.

I have recently finished reading “Priest in New York,” by Father Austin, who is the Theologian-in-Residence at St. Thomas.  It is a collection of short essays.  It’s good pick-up/put-down airplane reading. 

Being in NYC, St. Thomas must deal with it’s share of homeless, uncertain, dangerous, and, frankly, questionable people who show up off the street, not seeking God but seeking money or food or shelter.  How do you decide whether to serve or turn them away but still fulfill the mission of the Church on earth?  Sometimes their behavior impacts others, threatens others.  Father Austin writes in his book, Nonetheless, our welcome cannot mean indifference to behavior that undermines the gift it is our mission to offer.  I think it is the hardest thing of all to say to someone, “If you do X, you cannot come here.” And yet, discipline is necessary and is the heavy responsibility of those who care for institutions.  There is no identity without boundaries.

Sound familiar?  It should.  Our role requires discipline.  Our role is a heavy responsibility.  Our role is to ensure identity by providing boundaries.  Our role is to say, “If you do X, you cannot come here.”  I know I’ve written on this before but it is because I think it is the most important work that we do.  The shape, future, tone, and culture of our schools are completely reflective of the students we enroll. 

I had two telephone calls yesterday asking about space for next month.  One was for a day student.  We can always squeeze in another day student if we want them.  This was a student who has been looking at us for 9^th grade in 2013 but now suddenly wants to join 8^th grade next year.  He’s a great kid.  I’m sure we can work it out.  The other kid I don’t know and haven’t met but he’s looking for a boarding space and it would be hard to make it work.  My initial radar has also pinged some possible red flags.  It is, after all, mid-August and they don’t know where he’s going to school in three weeks.

Both want to be here, in part, because of our identity; or, put another way, our reputation.  Not sure how it will play out for each student but I do know I’ll be thinking about the importance of “…no identity without boundaries.”  In the land of my school, I’m the border guard.

So what evidence do we have to support this thesis of the importance of identity and boundaries?  There is subjective perception and there is fact.  Subjective perception: I travel a great deal for work and after two decades in admissions, I have seen the inside of a lot of Episcopal churches on Sunday morning across the U.S. and around the world.  My subjective perception is that the Church is in decline.  It’s nothing like my childhood.  Fact: the membership of the Episcopal Church has gone below 2 million for the first time, from a one-time high of 3.6 million.  Subjective perception: St. Thomas seems packed, no matter when I go: Easter, of course, but then all the other Sundays as well.  Fact: the St. Thomas annual fund for 2012 hit an all time high of over $1.3 million in pledges for the year.

The dots I’m connecting and the conclusion I’m drawing is that despite national trends to the contrary, St. Thomas is thriving.  People are drawn to its identity.  No doubt, St. Thomas has some controversial positions that they don’t hide but that seems to have only helped sharpen and brought clarity to their identity and has not impacted attendance or finances.  On the contrary, St. Thomas, with it’s clear sense of self, is ahead of it peers.

It’s not the first and it won’t be the last time I write about the importance of clarity of mission, knowing who we are, and being the gatekeepers who set boundaries for our schools.  St. Thomas is a good exemplum of the success that can be enjoyed.

Paris

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[This is long and rather personal so be forewarned or just skip it altogether.  There is a professional connection at the end if you make it that far.  And, yes, the picture was taken by me.]

If you’re a regular reader then you know I’m tackling French this summer.  Well, I’m starting French this summer.  It will take a good deal of time and effort to actually tackle it.  Right now I’m in Paris.  It’s Sunday night and I’m on day five of my 16-day trip.  I’m here by myself; I arrived not even knowing one to ten in French; I know nobody over here.  I meet with a private tutor each morning for three hours and am expected to do three hours of drills and study each afternoon/evening.  In between, I’m free to be a tourist.  The scene is set.

Let’s set another scene.  I don’t have a particular film or television show in mind but we’ve all seen this storyline play out.  The patient is in a coma.  The reason why doesn’t matter.  She can hear everything.  Her mind is 100% and she is in command of her intellect and her emotions.  What she has no control over is her body.  She is fully aware but can’t communicate in any way—no blink, squeeze of the hand, wiggle of the ear, zip.  People in the room talk around, about and over her as though she is not there.  She has things to say.  She wants to let them know she’s alive in there somewhere.  She is pained by the misery her condition has caused her loved ones.  She is desperate to know what decisions might be made on her behalf, in which she can’t contribute or participate.  She wants to live.

It is maddening, possibly literally.  This could drive a sane person insane.  It’s frustrating.  It’s angering.  It’s heartbreaking.  It’s even infantilizing.

It’s lonely.

It’s Paris July 2012 and it’s me.  When I first got here, I could barely manage a bonjour and a merci.  Someone taught me how to say my name so I could say it to the passport guy, the front desk clerk, the receptionist at school.  Even then, whatever was said to me I did not understand and could not respond.  With my little dictionary in hand, I could stammer out some nouns: “me, taxi, hotel”.  After three days of lessons, I can accomplish most anything if it can be started with, “I’d like…,” “I am…,” or “My name is…,” or involves counting to ten or pronouncing the vowels.  I still can’t understand any reply and can’t engage in a response.  I have a hard time even engaging in a conversation with my tutor because her English is so lacking.  I’ve been here five days and I’ve had no significant, longer than a minute, meaningful human contact.  I can’t even argue with the television.  I’ve got no English language channel.  God Bless the few people (typically in their 20’s and 30’s) who have had patience with me and/or knew a bit of English.  One taught me how to ask for a receipt.  That’ll please the Business Office.

It’s maddening, frustrating, angering, heartbreaking, infantilizing…lonely.

I don’t post this seeking your sympathy.  On the surface, what an absurd expectation.  “Oh, poor Andrew, in Paris for two weeks.  Rough life.”  As a matter of fact, when I get back, I’m sure I’ll just tell my family, friends and co-workers things like, “What a beautiful city.  Let me show you my pictures.  Can we talk about the food and champagne?”  After all, who dare complain about being in Paris for two weeks?  I go where others only dare to dream.  I’ll dazzle them with my two weeks’ worth of French: surely I’ll know a few more verbs, can complete a sentence, and maybe even count to twenty by that point.  I’ll go back to the solitude of my Rosetta Stone and look forward to it.

No, I post this in solidarity with and empathy for our international students at our schools.  They come over with varying degrees of academic and social English, based on our admissions criteria and the level of ESL support our individual schools can offer them.  But without a friend who is also from Germany or Korea or Spain or Brazil, how lonely their life might be.  I’m here for only two weeks; they’re with us for nine months.  That’s a long time to possibly go without a significant, deep, substantial, authentic exchange with another human being.  No wonder they sit together by country over dinner and speak in their own language.  I got it before.  I really get it now.   

Surely, not all are so lonely.  But surely not none.  These last five days have entirely changed my perspective on them.

Je m’apelle Andrew.

Show me the money!!

Mitt Romney has endorsed Congressman Paul Ryan’s budget plan.  No surprise.  In turn, Vice President Biden has attacked the plan, and by extension, Mr. Romney for endorsing it.  Again, no surprise.  Here’s what the Vice President said to the candidate (via the media), “Don’t tell me what you value.  Show me your budget and I’ll tell YOU what you value.”

Interesting point.  My first thought was to go down the road about our institutional budgets and how much of it goes to the admissions/marketing function and question if that mirrors the importance, if not pressure, our institutions put on our admissions.  But I often find myself telling my staff we need to focus on what is in our control to fix.  We may not like how other people or offices do things so, instead, let’s focus on our office and operations, where we can affect necessary change and improvement, and strive for excellence.  And then hopefully lead by example.

So instead of the possible depressing exercise of looking at how much resources our schools allocate to our work, I decided to give some thought to how we allocate within our operation those resources we are given.  I don’t know a colleague who doesn’t value having a family visit campus.  Don’t we all believe (don’t we all know??) that we exponentially increase the chance of enrolling a family if we get them to visit?  I also don’t know a colleague who doesn’t think the school’s website isn’t the primary source of information for a prospective family.  Sure, they may learn about us from word of mouth or maybe from an internet search but once our names are on their lips, isn’t their first stop at our own homepage?

“Show me your budget and I will tell you what you value.”

So, how much of our budget and human resources are allocated to the campus visit?  Is there someone dedicated to insuring a successful visit for each family?  Do you have funds for training, rewarding, appreciating your tour guides?  And how about that homepage?  Do you have thousands of dollars for newspaper advertising but none to add that key button or functionality to your website?  Can’t find $3000 to reward and retain that awesome young recruiter but spending $5000 per annum on food and beverages for admissions events?

Show me your admissions budget and I’ll tell you what it says you value.  But is that what you really value?  As we go into another admissions year in just six weeks, hopefully it’s not too late to think twice about how and where we deploy our dollars and our staff.