American higher education, specifically at the undergraduate level, is reaching a breaking point. The competition for admission has hit a fever pitch, students - especially female students as described in a recent and much-discussed New York Times article - are feeling severe pressure and the costs of attendance are spiraling out of control. Here, I'd like to argue that what is ratcheting up this intense competition is an even more intense "sweepstakes culture" that has come to characterize college and university admission.
As The Dartmouth reported ("Acceptance Rates Hit All Time Low," March 30), admission into the class of 2011 was the most competitive yet, not only at Dartmouth but also at most other Ivy League Schools. What's striking about this admission cycle is, as James Vaznis of the Boston Globe has noted, is that this competition is still present outside of the Ivies - at least in Massachusetts. For example, the rate of admission to Northeastern University in Boston, Mass., has dropped from 85 percent in 1995 to 39 percent this year. A greater degree of selectivity is also present at the public University of Massachusetts at Amherst, where admission has dropped from 73 percent in 1997 to 62 percent this year. This competition is described in the article by 17-year-old Mark Murray as "brutal," leaving him echoing the now common sentiment that "it's like you can't do enough to get into a good school."
This competition is not only driven by a sheer increase in number of graduating seniors, but also by the number of applications each one fills out. How many schools did you apply to? The guidance counselor spoken to in Vaznis' article recommended 8 to 10 schools, and we all know that one kid who applied to 15 or more school and wore this figure like a badge of honor. This volume of application creates havoc for admissions officers who must sort through thousands of well-qualified candidates and hope that those selected will then attend their school.
But it also creates a somewhat poisonous "sweepstakes culture" that, though it certainly characterized our own college application process, is becoming ever more intense for each incoming class of first-years. In this culture, a Dartmouth admissions letter is equivalent to winning the lottery; an acceptance to other schools is no more than winning $5 from a scratch-off ticket. What perhaps get lost in the shuffle is that these are schools, not lottery tickets.
A recent article in The New York Times by Katie Stone Lombardi tells the story of one admissions dean, Marilee Jones of MIT, who worries deeply about this current state of affairs. She believes, rightly so, that it has led to "the most anxious, sleep-deprived, steeped-in-stress, judged, tested, poorly nourished generation" ever. Her demands? For parents to back off, children to have downtime, high schools to lower the pressure, and colleges to be straight with teenagers about admission criteria.
To Jones' message, I add that change will only come when colleges are seen as learning institutions instead of lottery prizes. The current culture only leads to dashed hopes, unrealized expectations, and mounds of debt for the many who win the college lottery and, in their excitement, jump into the open arms of a lender willing to spot them the $160,000 - with 8-10 percent interest of course.
How can we help to put an end to this culture now? Perhaps we can share our experiences with our family members and those in our high schools that, while Dartmouth is fantastic (or not), life here is more similar to life at other colleges than the glossy brochures make it seem. Graduating seniors can also send the message to those back home that a Dartmouth education doesn't equal an immediate high paying job, nor automatic admission to a top grad school, nor any other gilded road that they may have once been known to pave.
The process for success outside of college, if one even exists, is murky. As many seniors, myself included, are now finding out, your "lottery winning", or lack thereof, is not the foremost consideration for most employers.
