This little scamp may have multiple littermates pursuing college degrees. It gets expensive, it really does.

[Photo: President George W. Bush holding Monmouth’s Jim Horn]

Monmouth University’s Professor Jim Horn, Educator Extraordinaire, froths at the mouth whenever the military comes up in e-conversation. And, since Master Horn must love frothing at the mouth, he brings up the military frequently.

I wrote in late January about Horn’s piece “Unending War Relies on Steady Supply of Dropouts and Pushouts,” in which he wrote:

“These youngsters today have failed to make it in the testing factories we call schools, and recruiters, armed with these kids’ school data (NCLB mandates it), have an unending supply of hot leads.

What would that recruiting poster look like–an army one group of dropouts and pushouts who can still contribute to the America’s world class military economy. Sign your body up today!” [emphasis added]

Not surprisingly, he’s at it again. In a brief treatment of the proposed changes to the GI Bill - a topic worth serious thought and discussion - Horn takes the opportunity to lambaste the American GI, who he’s classified as “undereducated”:

According to the Pentagon, which directs the spending of $3 billion every week in Iraq, this new GI Bill proposal is too expensive. And from their perspective, Webb’s bill threatens the readiness to conduct war without end (or maybe just a hundred years), which can only be carried out by underpaid, undereducated “volunteers” who do not have viable career options outside the military. (We all know that if we were drafting middle class kids to serve as IED targets in Iraq, this war would have been over a long time ago). [Bold emphasis added]

Before I parse this, remind yourself of the meaning of the word tendentious:

“… having or showing a definite tendency, bias, or purpose: a tendentious novel.”

“Marked by a strong implicit point of view; partisan: a tendentious account of the recent elections.“

Got it? Let’s hit the analysis.

First, Professor Horn wants you to look at the sheer amount of money being spent per week in Iraq:

“According to the Pentagon, which directs the spending of $3 billion every week in Iraq, this new GI Bill proposal is too expensive.”

And, he hopes, you’ll think it’s a ridiculous sum. He also hopes that you’re as agenda-driven and logically deficient as he is. That way, the argument that we’re spending tons of money per week on something unnecessary - at the opportunity cost of depriving veterans of money for education - will take root and blossom. It would have been a far stronger point if he’d compared the amount of monetary change in the proposed GI Bill to the vasts of military spending overall, but doing so wouldn’t have allowed him to poke the Iraq war with a stick and quickly run away.

“And from their perspective, Webb’s bill threatens the readiness to conduct war without end (or maybe just a hundred years)”

Well, everyone knows that John McCain wants to station nukes on every streetcorner in every foreign country for at least 100 years. Haha!

But Jim Horn, that silver-haired teenybopper, is infected with a star envy/crush that runs both deep and bold. I can’t help but remember his cutesy comment to the semi-fasting Kozol on the HuffPo:

“Thank you for your eloquent commitment to what’s right for so many years … A trusted lieutenant, should you need one. Jim Horn”

This time, too, he was likely just purposely distorting McCain’s comment by following in the footsteps of another one of his heroes.

“…which can only be carried out by underpaid, undereducated “volunteers” who do not have viable career options outside the military.”

Underpaid? Probably. I’ll give him that one.

But undereducated? This is standard Horn-fare - to pity the military for being ignorant, dumb, enslaved, stupid, unaware, backwoods cannon-fodder for Big Oil, Bu$hCo, Condoskeeza, Dick “Dr. Evil” Cheney, etc. It’s almost as charming as when Susan O’Hanian thought it was funny to sing - yes, sing, in a NCLB protest song - that NCLB was created as a way to divert attention from our wars. [She removed that line from her song, but then wrote in her newsletter that she regretted it.]

Thanks, Jim, but I don’t think they need your pity.

Not only is his claim about the mental ineptitude of the American GI rude and patently untrue, it doesn’t even make sense given the context. If our GIs are undereducated and intellectually worthless - so worthless that they “do not have viable career options outside the military” - why on earth would we pay them bucketloads of money when, as Jim suggests, we’re getting substandard production out of them?

Stick to education, Jim. You might have trouble in the private sector, despite your claim to believe in the foundations of education, which do include - to your chagrin - basic economic principles.

The scare quotes around “volunteers” can’t be ignored, either - I’ll spare you the obvious analysis, but I do ask that you remember that definition of tendentious.

“(We all know that if we were drafting middle class kids to serve as IED targets in Iraq, this war would have been over a long time ago).”

Jim is likely right. If there was a draft of any sort, the country would probably have a different approach to this war. But since we aren’t drafting anyone, it’s completely irrelevant.

Demeaning, tendentious language abounds - from calling GIs “IED targets” to referring to John McCain as “the Republican War Hero candidate” to implications of selfish, inhumane class warfare. And really, tendentious language here and there, light sparring, etc. isn’t a terrible thing. It’s not always destructive or mean-spirited, but Horn is a willing practitioner of the vile.

My disapproval has nothing to do with Horn’s politics or beliefs - public and higher education, the military and pretty much everything else can be criticized fairly. And for what it’s worth, I do hope that Jim Webb’s bill passes and increases education benefits for veterans. I am on Horn’s side entirely on this particular issue, but I condemn his reasoning and his discourse.

It has everything to do with his motivations.

Because of that, I’ve got to channel George Patton one more time:

You’re one lowlife son of a bitch, Jim.

The University that puts up with your pseudo-professional screeds is nearing that classification, too, as well as the unindicted co-conspirators who stay silent at the Education Policy Blog.

Sometimes, for better or worse, there’s just no other way to put it.

I’ll leave you with two excellent reads:

• The American GI, by Colin Powell, written on the occasion of The American GI being named to the TIME 100: The Most Important People of the [20th] Century.
• Freedom is a Little Piece of Broken Concrete by Darren.

Part 2 is a continuation of Analyzing Ten Stupid Ways to Ruin Your College Application, Part 1, a closer look at Jay Mathews’ original article Ten Stupid Ways to Ruin Your College Application.

6. Use your application essay to expand upon how great your grades, scores and activities are.

One college official on Admissions 101 said a common bonehead play is to waste the application essay by telling admissions officers things “we more or less already know or could figure out just from reading other parts of the application.” This is not only boring, but it leaves the impression that your grades, scores and extracurricular activities are all that is interesting about you.

It’s a “bonehead play,” but not necessarily because it makes you appear as though you’re just a transcript.

The approach to an effective college application is the same approach I use when I work with a job seeker. The important concept here is real estate - and real estate is valuable stuff.

When you apply for a job, you get two pieces of real estate: the cover letter and a resume/CV. That’s all. The cover letter is 1 page and the resume is 1-2 pages. If one is applying for an executive or academic position, a CV will take the place of a resume - maybe 3-5 pages.

Either way, that’s not a lot of real estate to sum up one’s candidacy.

A college application can have more parts - a transcript, test scores, a resume, an essay, recommendations, etc. - but you’re still quite limited. You’ve only got a few pages to present yourself, so you can’t waste time and space talking about the same thing more than once.

If you’re a job seeker, rehashing your resume in a cover letter provides little additional value to the hiring manager. What’s the point of saying the same things the application reader can get from your resume?

A college application is no different. You need to take advantage of the real estate - don’t blow it by presenting the same material over and over.

Common sense, yes? Here’s where it gets weird:

College officials will never say this out loud, but one purpose of the college essay is to weed out insufferable people whom no one would want as a roommate. One good strategy is to write about some lovable quirk that reveals a facet of your character and lets you use some self-deprecating humor, essential to any successful college application essay.

They’re unlikely to say that out loud because it’s nearly baseless.

If I were to type out a full explanation of why these two sentences are misguided, my fingertips would wear down to the bone.

Does anyone really believe that admissions committees are so in touch with the personalities of their incoming student bodies that they can read 600 words and decide who will be easy to live with? Sure, if your essay is about how you’re an only child, have never shared a room and refuse to consider the possibility until you’re married, it might reflect badly on your candidacy. But really, worrying about what an application reader might assume about your behavior in a 15′x15′ dorm room after reading your personal statement is absurd.

I’ve read many personal statements that wouldn’t give the reader the slightest inkling about an applicant’s dorm persona. About 10 years ago I read in a book about college application essays a sample essay in which the applicant described a day on a recent vacation. He’d hiked up a large hill - it took several hours and this applicant seemed to be a stranger to physical exertion - and at the summit he took out his lunch.

In that lunch he’d packed a banana. He described in detail how that banana tasted and how he felt eating while it after such a difficult climb. He’d never paid so much attention to such a mundane thing in his life.

It was a wonderful essay that showed his ability to think, demonstrated his writing skill and gave the reader a glimpse into a side of him that didn’t appear on his transcript. I don’t know if the banana-eater was a good roommate, but he did get into Harvard.

But for the sake of humoring Mathews, let’s imagine a move-in day conversation that goes something like this:

John: “Hey, I’m John.”
Steve: “Hey John, I’m Steve. Do you like bananas?”
John: “Do I ever! Harvard selected me in part because they thought my banana-eating prowess would add to the social dynamic of Harvard Yard.”
Steve: “Wow - I love bananas! I can’t imagine living with someone who didn’t. I think we’re going to get along just fiiiiiiine.”

And they lived happily ever after. Well, until John stayed up all night playing Halo 3 when Steve was trying to rest up for his Differential Equations mid-term…

7. Nobody knows you when you are touring a college, so if you want to wear a T-shirt from a rival university or make a cellphone call, go right ahead.

Mathews elaborates:

This is another problem with which I was unfamiliar. I am not entirely convinced that it is an issue, but Connolly and other experts insist it can hurt you. They think tour guides in some cases have the names of the people in their tours and will report unseemly behavior. A college tour guide told Admissions 101 that his supervisors encouraged him to tell them about tour participants who did GOOD things, such as ask insightful questions. So, I suppose, bad news can also get back to the people who are deciding your fate.

I’m not sure why he’s unfamiliar with the erosion of courtesy - anyone who’s been to a movie theater in the last 10 years could write a dissertation on it.

But he and Connolly are right - people notice when you’re rude. And not only that, but you shouldn’t be rude to avoid losing points in the application process. You shouldn’t be rude because, well, it’s rude.

Use common sense. Conduct yourself respectfully for your sake and that of the others touring. At many schools, tour guides/hosts are advanced undergraduates who either volunteer or get paid peanuts for their service. Don’t make their job tougher.

Does it really matter what you wear on a tour? I think such a concern is outrageous and wholly insignificant, but it’s not that tough to avoid putting on a Boston College t-shirt when you’re touring Boston University. But if you want the truth, I find it both naive and offensive to think that a Duke University tour guide is so petty that he docks points on your application because you showed up wearing a UNC hat.

Remember, admissions reps aren’t that dumb and childish. And if they are, do you really want to spend four years there?

8. Let your parents do whatever they need to do to help you get admitted.

Helicopter parents, always hovering, have become a part of modern American folklore. They exist, of course. Students who let mom and dad get too involved are likely to suffer.

Helicopter parent folklore exists because the media loves the concept and the stories are entertaining, but I digress.

Parents need to respect the admissions process as much as students do. If parents and students don’t deviate from the application process, #8 won’t an issue.

Students, especially now, are busy people and sometimes parents have to follow up for them. If you’ve got a question about a college, financial aid or anything else related to applying, a parent can call and ask. Just remember that admissions reps/committees are likely even busier - ask your question, let them do their job by answering and leave it at that.

There’s just no reason to try to lobby aggressively on your child’s behalf. A good application lobbies strongly enough.

9. Colleges are attuned to all the latest fads, so when e-mailing them, it is fine to use text- message abbreviations.

Connolly said: “OMG, this is annoying for us non-texters and IDK why students do this to us adults when we are not their BFF.”

Conduct yourself like a professional at all times. Does that sound overly formal? It shouldn’t - high school seniors are professional students.

And if a student just can’t grasp the concept of behaving like an adult, at least convince them to behave like a veteran of childhood.

10. Don’t proofread your application carefully and don’t bother to check to see if the envelope in which you placed the application or letter of recommendation for College A might actually have the address of College B.

Keep your papers organized and work on applications one at a time. Problem solved.

Proofreading is a necessity. Again, it’s about self-respect and professionalism. If your eye for mistakes isn’t terribly keen, find others - at least 2 - to proofread for you.

I’m reminded of something I wrote months ago about a college counselor who suggests that applicants make mistakes on purpose to show that they’re real human beings.

Dumb. Don’t do that. And if you want to know why, you can browse that old post - it starts halfway through this article.

We’ve taken a closer look at ten ways you may or may not ruin your college application. I’ll leave you with a snippet from that article I just linked - it details a careless blunder that really didn’t have much of an impact on an applicant’s candidacy:

… when I was in high school, a friend of mine applied to SUNY Binghamton. He mailed his application on the deadline during 6th period lunch. After our physics lab the next period, we talked about his essay. He had a copy in his notebook and passed it around. I noticed that in the heading he’d written “Binghampton” - it’s spelled wrong but mimics the pronunciation. He never bothered to check.

He wasn’t a stellar applicant. He spelled the university’s name wrong on his essay. He still got in.

The moral of that story? Relax. This process isn’t as perilous as Mathews and some others make it out to be.

You can subscribe to e-mail news feeds by submitting your address in the left column of this site or you can add Education for the Aughts to your RSS reader.

If you’ve got questions about college admissions or have an interest in having me speak to your class, company or organization, feel free to send an e-mail to mktabor@gmail.com.

I don’t think college applicants are dumb.

I don’t think that admissions committees are dumb.

Some other people do.

There’s no shortage of articles and opining about college admissions - we know this. We’re indundated daily with variations on a theme that promise to expose secrets to this, guarantee a smooth process with that, and stack tip upon tip on the fragile education Jenga-tower one is seemingly obligated to build starting in 9th grade.

And, in case that last sentence didn’t remind you of anything, I’ll say it explicitly: there’s a nationwide and industry-wide propensity toward fear-mongering with regards to admissions. A cynic might suggest that if everyone from your high school guidance counselor to New York Times staffers didn’t portray college admissions as an unnavigable maze for which only they had a map, they might be out of a job.

To paraphrase Ambrose Bierce, a cynic is often someone who sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.

Jay Mathews of the Washington Post is a fine education writer - his articles are well-researched and generally sound. In Ten Stupid Ways to Ruin Your College Application, Mathews culls material from his discussion forum and professional acquaintances to lay out a list of things one shouldn’t do when applying to college.

Some of these tips are good, some aren’t - I’d like to take a look at all ten and expand on them. Part 1 looks at questions #1-5; Part 2 at #6-10. It was 3,000+ words, I had to break them up.

The list, unfortunately, is a sarcastic “Who’d be dumb enough to do that?!” attempt at lighthearted-but-informative content, so keep that in mind when I quote material.

1. Rack up as many extra points as you can for “expressed interest” in your favorite colleges.

Mathews et alii suggest that you should show an interest in a school but warn not to go overboard. There’s a list of weird gestures [like sending a shoe to get a “foot in the door”] that one ought not to try.

Common sense works here.

Visit colleges, talk to reps, do the normal things. But the question to ask if you’re considering a non-traditional demonstration of interest is, “Where’s the value? Does it result in me showing more about myself and my candidacy? Does it allow the admissions officer or rep to give me information of value?” Sending a shoe doesn’t elicit anything of value from the college and it doesn’t show anything about you [except that you might be a bit creepy].

Everything you do should generate value from - and preferably for - both parties involved.

2. Don’t worry about your postings on social networking sites — college admissions officers understand your need for individual expression and will probably never look at them.

Mathews frames problematic Myspace and Facebook content in two ways: an embarrassing page can hurt your candidacy if an admissions committee finds it and a mean-spirited kid or teacher can alert a committee to damage you.

What?

Not everybody loves you. Those who don’t could send anonymous notes to your first-choice school suggesting it inspect a certain Web site. There are no rules that say they can’t.

It’s true, but how you live your life and how you want the world to see you is a larger, more important issue of self-respect; what Haverford thinks about your famous alcohol-induced vomiting at the high school musical cast party is the least of your problems if it really is there for everyone to see and judge.

Do some people take a bizarre interest in ensuring your failure? Sure. One of my teachers went out of her way to disparage me in the college admissions process. But so what? Mean-spirited communications with a questionable purpose usually say more about who sends them than the person in question.

Remember: College admissions officers are people, too, and they aren’t dumb.

Relax. There isn’t a bogeyman hiding under every bed.

3. When sending messages to admissions officers, the wilder the e-mail address the better.

I’ve got no issue with this one - it’s right on. Use an e-mail address that consists of your first/last name, initials, or some combination. If anyone would like an invitation to gmail to make a new address, just drop me a line and I’ll send you one.

I wrote about this in June in Sage Advice on E-Mail from a College Admissions Officer*:

When I was working for a non-US government about 7 years ago, I was in charge of pre-screening American resumes submitted for internships. Why? Because I was the only one there who knew all the American colleges and universities [most everyone else just knew the top-tier schools]. I remember the day I read a CV that was impeccable - a prestigious secondary school, a couple years at an Ivy and on pace for summa cum laude, etc. His e-mail address was longsacktheclown@_____.com. I’ve only laughed harder two other times in my life.

If you’ve got a crazy address, the bad news is that it’ll reflect poorly on you. The good news is that you’ll probably make the admissions rep’s day.

4. College interviewers like jokes and exaggerations, so let fire.

First, the interview isn’t that important. Mathews might not read industry reports, but I do. The Philadelphia Inquirer summarizes a recent report by the National Association of College Admission Counseling:

According to the National Association for College Admission Counseling, an applicant’s interview had limited or no importance at two-thirds of 386 four-year institutions surveyed last year for the group’s State of College Admission report. The portion of schools that gave the chat “considerable importance” was 10 percent, down from a high of 15 percent in 1995.

Grades, strength of curriculum and test scores have been the top admission factors for at least 15 years, the August report found. The interview ranked 10th among 15 criteria that schools consider.

Mathews tells a story so odd and irrelevant that I can’t summarize it:

Dan4, a parent posting on Admissions 101, said his son blew his interview for the University of Pennsylvania by letting his sense of humor go too far. He told the interviewer, a woman, that if he got into Penn, he hoped to dump his dirty clothes on his aunt in Philadelphia since one of his personal goals was “to never have to do his own laundry.” I think this is a funny line. But the interviewer didn’t. Dan4’s son didn’t realize how much this had hurt him until a cousin the same age, with the same last name, met with another Penn interviewer who asked pointedly if they were related and if he did his own laundry. The interviewer wasn’t smiling.

So, because Dan4’s kid made an ill-timed comment that wasn’t terribly funny - and said it to a dry, humorless, automaton of an admissions rep - you shouldn’t stray from being the consummate professional who is 17 going on 40.

Or you can just be yourself.

Again, we all need to present ourselves as competent, self-respecting professionals - even if our profession is being a high school student. It’s common sense and is based on the self-respect I mentioned earlier. But to suggest that students should walk on eggshells to avoid the weirdest sensibilities of a nightmare interviewer causes unnecessary stress. Stop that, Jay.

This interviewer stinks - there’s no better way to put it. You might get an interviewer you wish you knew in your daily life and you might get an interviewer who will inspire a quirky story that’ll entertain until the end of time. That isn’t up to you. The best thing approach is to be yourself, conduct yourself appropriately and leave it at that.

Interviews are about letting a rep know who you are, finding out about a school and seeing how those two fit together. If you play a game to manipulate an interview one way or the other, you won’t get a lot out of it.

5. Load up your application with as many activities as you can think of and don’t mention anything that makes you look bad.

This tip touches on two different things - how we view/present our positive attributes and how forthcoming we should be about our negative ones.

Mathews writes:

Connolly said one student put on his application “I spend time lifting weights to improve my abs.” This is dumb. Colleges want to see two activities to which you have applied much energy and passion. They don’t want to see a lot of little stuff.

No, they want to see who you are - and you want them to see who you are. Mathews just thinks you should only show what portrays you as Rhodes-Scholar-meets-cheerleader.

Energetic, motivated and demonstrating a seriousness of purpose is a great combination - that’s no myth. The myth is that you can’t be into seemingly-boring things and still meet all three of those conditions.

It’s really about how you view what you do and how you present it. The dumb part isn’t that the applicant lifts weights and works on his abs, it’s that he presents it as lifting weights to work on his abs. I’d present it as a commitment to health and an interest in exercise science/kinesiology.

This isn’t about spin; there’s no need to make stuff up. But usually a boring description comes not from an inability to draw value from an activity - not that activity’s inherent worthlessness.

In How to Approach a Gap in College Admissions Applications, I wrote about a student interested in online gambling who was ill-advised. The admissions consultant saw him as a degenerate; I saw a kid who, whether he recognized it or not, understood statistics, probability and applied concepts as difficult as Bayesian decision-making. I e-mailed that consultant to offer her an opportunity to detail her approach to the problem - she didn’t respond.

Having said that, not every activity is worth describing in detail or even listing. The question to ask here is, again, “Does it provide value?”

In Getting into College Without Advanced Placement / AP Classes, I wrote about a student who wasn’t a “joiner”:

There’s no shortage of SADD members, student council representatives and dance committee volunteers applying to good schools. In a way, those applicants can come across as incredibly similar to one another. If there’s one thing that makes an admissions officer at a large research university yawn, it’s the garden-variety “joiner.” I’d likely be more interested in a student who read in her spare time than one who participated in application-padding clubs; the answer to, “What do you read and why do you spend so much time doing it?” is going to be more interesting and expository than to, “So, why did you want to plan the prom?”

Simply put, this girl isn’t necessarily harmed by not having a laundry list of activities. No one has to be.

And the negative aspects of an application? That’s an easy one. Be honest about them. Be forthcoming about what happened, what you’ve done to remedy it and/or learn from it and how you’ve moved on. Take responsibility for your actions and make the best of it. Really, what more can you do?

Continue to Analyzing Ten Stupid Ways to Ruin Your College Application, Part 2.

I received an e-mail from a parent in Florida who asked a question so important that I wanted to answer directly on this site.

Dear Mr. Tabor:

Thank you for your informative website. My 10th grade daughter is imploding because she is convinced she is not going to get into college (she is planning on attending a Florida university). All of her academic classes are honors level but not AP. She does not at this time have any interest in taking an AP class, however, she is feeling pressured to do so. The faculty and administration at her high school are very eager in pushing students to take these and it is represented as the best means to get into college.

She is an excellent student academically. However, she is not a “joiner” (referring to clubs, etc) and feels it would be hypocritical to join a club just to put it on a college application. In short, she is a lovely, quiet girl who is very smart but absolutely convinced that no Florida University will take her. I expect she will score very highly on the PSAT and the SAT when the time comes. Do you have anything I can tell her to ease her stress level down a notch? She wants to go to FSU (we have two alumni in the family) but, as I said, is convinced that without a resume full of clubs, sports, charity work and AP classes, no college will want her. The stress put on these kids from day one of high school is outrageous in my opinion. Thank you again for your time.

I’ll start at the end.

The stress put on these kids from day one of high school is outrageous in my opinion.

Absolutely - every time I encounter a parent or student who is terribly stressed about college admissions, I can’t help but think of the massive, unfounded pressure that pokes, prods and pulls all of us in 100 different directions.

The simple truth is that, as I said, the pressure is unfounded. It isn’t necessary and it comes from a misunderstanding of the purpose of higher education and how colleges/universities function.

In April I wrote a piece called Why Seth Godin and the Wall Street Journal are Wrong About College Admissions that reacted to a short bit written by Godin, a sharp, highly-acclaimed business/marketing writer, and a WSJ article about college admissions [Godin also responded in the comments]. I followed it up with Defeating the College Admissions Hysteria, Part II which links to Kevin Carey’s [Education Sector] analysis that mirrors my points.

But no matter how often you think, “Ok, relax…” it’s tough to turn that theory into practice. Going to college deserves the label of a “high-stakes” proposition. It’s an important step.

Students are told wrongly that it’s incredibly difficult to get into college and that in order to be accepted to a good school they have to outperform everyone on the transcript and resume. That’s not reality.

First, there’s a college for everybody - several colleges for everybody. There are 2,600+ colleges and universities in the United States that cover the entire range of abilities and interests within each class of applicants. If you can’t find a few matches, you haven’t looked hard enough.

Second, the stress that every student needs to be an AP Scholar to compete in the admissions process is undue. Not every school offers AP curricula and many that do fail to offer it widely or require students to take the exams. Take Richmond, VA - their AP test-takers comprise .01% of the student body. The point is that one can stand out in the admissions crowd without loading up on AP courses for the sake of gaming the admissions process.

College admissions committees do take into account the relative rigor of one’s curriculum. Has a student taken the most challenging classes available to them? Does their exemplary GPA reflect a mastery of seminal, difficult subjects, or did they take the easiest path they could?

Having said that, taking AP courses for the sake of choosing the most difficult, relevant curriculum will likely come at the expense of other classes, activities and interests. I wrote the other day about the benefits of taking welding in high school. I was able to continue both professionally and academically using those skills. Even with the perspective I have now, I wouldn’t trade welding for AP Bio.

An Honors curriculum is demanding and serves as a solid college prep track - admissions committees know this. They know that it’s a step above the norm. Mixed with solid SAT/ACT scores and insightful recommendations, a candidate can demonstrate his or her abilities well and impress an admissions committee. There’s no demonstrable difference between a student who takes AP classes but doesn’t prove themselves on the exam and an applicant from the Honors track.

I’d suggest that every Honors-level student give a shot at one AP class if it’s available to them and fits in their schedule - the benefits are worthwhile and taking academic challenges is an important step in one’s development - but it’s unlikely to make or break an Honors-level applicant to a good school.

As for extracurriculars, everyone’s got them. Every student does something with their time after school and nearly all interests can be related to academic potential. Be frank about how you spend your time even if it doesn’t seem to be impressive.

I wrote a few months ago about filling gaps in a college application. The student in this article was interested in online gambling which, on the surface, seems like a difficult hobby to present. I explained that the hobby demonstrates an extra-academic interest in statistics, probability and such advanced concepts as the implicit application of Bayes’ Theorem. It’s not about spin, it’s about placing the proper value on your interests.

Figure out what you do with your time and why it matters - don’t worry about putting your time into what you think a college will place value on. That’s no way to live.

There’s no shortage of SADD members, student council representatives and dance committee volunteers applying to good schools. In a way, those applicants can come across as incredibly similar to one another. If there’s one thing that makes an admissions officer at a large research university yawn, it’s the garden-variety “joiner.” I’d likely be more interested in a student who read in her spare time than one who participated in application-padding clubs; the answer to, “What do you read and why do you spend so much time doing it?” is going to be more interesting and expository than to, “So, why did you want to plan the prom?” [I’m not suggesting that any of these activities aren’t valuable, just that there’s no perfect formula for admission.]

And, really, explaining why you aren’t necessarily a “joiner” isn’t a bad personal statement topic at all.

Applicants need to be themselves. The idea is to package yourself the best you can with essays, recommendations and some numbers - you want them to see who you are, what you’ve done and what you’re capable of doing. If an admissions officer sees you, he can decide whether your selection will be a mutually beneficial relationship - it’s a marriage both parties appreciate. If you play the admissions game - not only spending your time on things in which you aren’t interested, but also presenting yourself as the candidate you think they want - you’re far less likely to land in a situation that’s right for you.

There are so many factors that add up to one’s candidacy for admission that there’s no reason to worry about any particular step in the process. Get the most out of your courses, challenge yourself appropriately with curriculum, prepare for and take standardized tests and use your time as you see fit - your recommendations will support those efforts and your application will, taken as a whole, reflect you well.

The short answer? Yes, your daughter will absolutely get into a Florida school that is both right for her and that she wants to attend.

It’s a Monday and I’ve got approximately 12,300 e-mails to address, some old, some new.

Maybe it just seems like 12,000+, but I feel a little bit like this kitten. Yawwwnnnnn.

Either way, as I write and write and write to individuals, check out October’s Teacher Potluck at Ms. Whatsit. I was excited to contribute a hideously delicious recipe I created a few weeks ago - it included roasted red peppers and chicken in a mustard/horseradish sauce - but I forgot to write it up and submit it to the Carnival. This just means that I’ll have to submit something twice as good to November’s Carnival.

Or you can read The Dartmouth Review’s wonderful piece on how Reverend Wheelock’s school became what we now know as Dartmouth College. Students and admirers of New York State [and especially Otsego County/Cooperstown] history will recall that our fictional characters - like Leatherstocking and Uncas - attended Eleazar Wheelock’s, as did real personalities like Joseph Brant. I wonder what these men of principle would think of their alma mater’s iron-fisted approach to squelching alumni-driven democracy?

Or you can read a piece in the Wall Street Journal, highlighted by Phi Beta Cons, that takes a look at what it takes to get into a good college. PBC contributor George Leef summarizes: “It depends in large part on whether you’re perceived as having “interesting things to say about American society.”"

Or you can take the time to congratulate Hillsborough County School Board Member Jennifer Faliero on her move back to the district she’s charged with representing.

Or you can head on over to Open Culture and watch some full-length films via Google Video [ie., Mr. Smith Goes to Washington] - as well as some fine documentaries.

That’s plenty to keep you busy.

This is a continuation of Part I, a reaction to Paul Graham’s essay on the value of a top-tier degree.

Picking up where we left off:

I’m not saying, of course, that elite colleges have evolved to prey upon the weaknesses of large organizations the way enterprise software companies have. But they work as if they had. In addition to the power of the brand name, graduates of elite colleges have two critical qualities that plug right into the way large organizations work. They’re good at doing what they’re asked, since that’s what it takes to please the adults who judge you at seventeen. And having been to an elite college makes them more confident.

I’m not certain that graduates of elite colleges are any more controllable than graduates from a third-tier school. A cynic could suggest that to be accepted to an elite school and complete a degree requires extra commitment to diligence and obedience, but there’s no evidence to support that. In contrast, some elite institutions are quite easy on their students - after all, if they’re accepted to _____ they must be brilliant and the reins are loosened.

Students are increasingly treated as consumers who direct their own education rather than lucky souls who are given a wonderful opportunity to work the will of the grisly gang in the Ivory Tower. Suggesting that success at such a school is largely a result of committing to the party line is a baseless oversimplification of higher education.

And, yes, graduating from an elite college gives one confidence because, on average, they’re far better prepared than fourth-tier graduates. That confidence is justified.

Back in the days when people might spend their whole career at one big company, these qualities must have been very valuable. Graduates of elite colleges would have been capable, yet amenable to authority. And since individual performance is so hard to measure in large organizations, their own confidence would have been the starting point for their reputation.

I would argue that responsible diligence and obedience, along with appropriate confidence in one’s abilities, are still valuable. If I were a university president, I’d hate to pump out graduates who were missing any of those qualities.

I’m a bit confused here with Graham’s logic - he bemoans a worker who is ‘amenable to authority,’ then discounts using that worker’s own judgment [his confidence] to evaluate performance. If he doesn’t listen to his boss and his self-evaluation isn’t accurate, who’s steering his ship?

Things are very different in the new world of startups. We couldn’t save someone from the market’s judgement [sic] even if we wanted to. And being charming and confident counts for nothing with users. All users care about is whether you make something they like. If you don’t, you’re dead.

The market is an excellent judge of the product - the market doesn’t judge the process. But we need a process to get a product.

I have a feeling that Graham is saying that the obedience with process is less important than in the past. Cherry-picking elements of process and product to prove the point is intellectually irresponsible. Users of Yahoo.com don’t care about the charm and confidence exhibited by the minds behind the website [product], but that doesn’t mean that those attributes aren’t important to the process that resulted in the service.

Knowing that test is coming makes us work a lot harder to get the right answers than anyone would if they were merely hiring people. We can’t afford to have any illusions about the predictors of success. And what we’ve found is that the variation between schools is so much smaller than the variation between individuals that it’s negligible by comparison. We can learn more about someone in the first minute of talking to them than by knowing where they went to school.

Essentially, Graham is advocating a streamlined process that focuses on delivering a valuable result. This isn’t new; it’s not only good business, it’s likely a major reason why Graham’s ventures [and those he’s funded] have largely been successful. It’s how we all need to work.

Graham touches on the point of variation - and that really should be the meat of his argument.

50 years ago, there were marked differences between an Ivy and, for example, the average state agricultural college. That gap has been closed by an intellectual flattening, broadening and the expansion of higher education.

Consider the following points:

Narrow to broad curricula. Generations ago, even larger universities didn’t offer 1,000 different degree programs and an overwhelming array of classes. A degree from a solid institution certified a body of knowledge not only because of a school’s reputation for quality, but also because there were few opportunities to stray significantly from that prescribed body of knowledge. Human Resources at a given company knew that a degree in business from a reputable institution certified mastery of the principles of business as well as familiarity with all elements of a liberal arts education and the basic skills it cultivates.

Now, a student graduating from a college or university generally has anywhere from 1/4 - 1/2 their curriculum mandated [with obvious variations depending on one’s track] - a paltry portion compared to the prescribed curricula of yesteryear. The important point is that standard curricula have ceased to dominate higher education; we simply can’t view a degree as a certification of knowledge or abilities because of this variation.

I attended Boston University - it’s a very large research university with plenty of funding. I made sure that I studied with the