<p>Great topic! I guess I’ll weigh in…</p>
<p>So I sit on the admission committee of a college with an acceptance rate that goes between 20-25% (and the conservatory admits around 15% of auditions). It’s not quite like those schools with less than 10%–places like Harvard, or Juilliard–but part of our job is routinely turning away more people than apply. I read the file of every conservatory applicant, but also read files of general applicants to the college. My own life experiences have shaped the way I handle the “subjective” components of the application process (once we’ve calculated the student’s GPA using our own criteria, and noted any AP’s, things like National Merit, etc.). Here’s a few ways in which my thinking and impressions have been shaped:</p>
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<li><p>I worked for a while conducting a youth orchestra in New Jersey. Most of the kids in the orchestra were the children of Princeton faculty, or scientists/executives in the big pharma companies in the neighborhood, or other professionals. It was a kind of hothouse environment where parents would sit and chat during the rehearsals, and compare notes and experiences in much the same way we trade posts here on CC. Kids would go to Chile for a summer to build something or other, or they’d go tutor in Trenton, or candystripe, or take a class or two at Princeton (or a summer science course at another university). Kids in this orchestra went to both good music schools (like NEC and CIM), as well as some of the best academic schools (including–surprise–Princeton). I loved this job…most of the kids were really great, bright, and fun to be around. One is even a student of mine here at Bard. However, some number of them (I’ll say, somewhat arbitrarily, ~40%) had no business being in this youth orchestra. They could play an instrument rather well, but the moment I put down my baton to rehearse a different section of the orchestra, the graphing calculators would come out, or Spanish verbs would get conjugated. It always took an extra minute or two to get the full orchestra’s attention (extra on top of the scrambling and looking for the right rehearsal letter that is typical of a youth orchestra) to get the 18-pound chemistry textbook off the lap and the violin under the chin. The passion of music-making, the ability to listen and concentrate during a rehearsal, these elements were totally absent in these students. It was my biggest pet peeve in the job, and I take that experience with me when I go and see someone’s listing “youth orchestra” as an EC on their app. The Common App does attempt to be helpful, by asking if someone plans to continue a particular activity in college. Not that answering “No” to that question is necessarily a bad thing (wouldn’t expect it for yearbook or cheerleading anyway), but if you say you did Amnesty in HS, and then say you don’t plan to do that in college, and there’s very little in your record that mentions Amnesty (nothing in either essay, none of your teachers mention it, your guidance counselor doesn’t mention it either), that shades my interpretation of your investment in that particular activity. I believe this is what most adcoms mean by “passion”–they basically want to see whether you’re doing something just to do it (which isn’t a bad thing, it’s not like it counts against you or anything), or whether you’re truly invested in it as an ACT OF PLEASURE.</p></li>
<li><p>I once overheard a current Bard student, in a moment of indiscretion, complain about having to travel up to Albany to perform a concert at a nursing home. Now this person was very busy that week, and we all get cagey when we’ve got a lot on our plates, so whatever. But after that moment I started looking at the charity/community service claims of our applicants a little more critically. Bard students do a lot of community service, so that’s very important to us in the application process. There’s lots of good ways to show your altruism and community spirit without looking too self-serving. Simply ask the person best acquainted with your service (the manager of the animal shelter, or the coordinator at the nursing home) to write a letter on your behalf. If you have a genuine connection to this person, it won’t feel like you just showed up one day, baled hay for a few hours, then said “here fill in this form.” Send in a copy of the programs if you have them–then it changes from “playing at various church-sponsored charity events” to something more concrete: in your senior year, you played at 8 events to raise money for Haiti, and then a local paper clipping says those efforts helped raise $2,000. The bigger issue, the one hinted at by a record of community service, is whether an applicant has the kind of human qualities we value above and beyond virtuosity. And honestly, as hokey as it sounds, very often it comes across in the playing–an individual who is there to serve music, rather than be served by it. There are those who are truly invested in learning, in growing, and exploring, and then there are those who play in instrument because they CAN, and for them it’s about how awesome they are, that they can tear up a particularly hard etude or roar through a concerto. Bravado is necessary to convince an audience, but if it’s all about you, then…</p></li>
<li><p>I worked all through high school. I cooked, washed dishes, and also had a stint in a vitamin factory (I was paid to stare at vitamins). With this money I was able to pay for my cello and also go to some out of state music camps. Now had I took all the time spent working and converted it in to hours in the practice room, I would have had better prospects for music school admission, and the program where I now work has very high standards, so I recognize the need for young musicians to put in the hours with their instrument. But I guess I do have a soft spot in my heart for someone who’s worked an actual job while in high school. In some ways I’m convinced a summer spent working at Burger King teaches more than a summer spent building a school down in Peru. I once sliced the tip of one of my thumbs off at my job, though, and that cost me a chance to perform in an important concert, so choose your job carefully! </p></li>
<li><p>I think an important part of the conversation should be “raw materials.” How does the student play the hand she’s dealt? This has musical implications as well. One particular teacher here at Bard (and considered one of the finest teachers in the country on this instrument) really focuses on this during the audition and the decision-making process. If the student is coming from Interlochen, or Juilliard Pre-college, or from a teacher well-known to this faculty member as having consistently outstanding students, there’s this sense that he needs to demonstrate he’s really come very very far. The stakes are higher. As far as the general college admission process is concerned, outside of auditions, I want to see what kind of environment this particular student grew up in, and how the student made use of the opportunities that upbringing provided. We also learn as much as we can about the school itself: the guidance counselor is supposed to furnish us with all sorts of good information, like the number of AP courses offered, whether the school caps the number of AP classes a student can take, what % from that school go on to college, whether the GPA is weighted, whether the school ranks its students, etc. The counselor is asked to rate your course load relative to other students (less demanding, average, very demanding, most demanding).</p></li>
<li><p>Reading comments to The Choice blog on the NY Times website, and particular any time Harvard’s Admissions Dean is featured, is kind of a depressing exercise. It’s similar to other areas of the CC website–fortunately the music major forum is spared so much drama! There’s a lot of anxiety out there, wanting to make the right decision and so on, and so it’s good to seek out advice, to want to better understand the process. And it’s especially important now, as we’re in a bit of a demographic bulge when it comes to graduating high school seniors. </p></li>
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<p>Contributing to this anxiety is the fact that the whole process just isn’t terribly predictable. Each year, the decisions made in admissions offices nationwide are for that year’s group of students. And while stacks of prior years’ statistics can be gleaned to make conclusions about what will happen in the coming years, it’s still not an exact science. </p>
<p>Actually, at one point in history, college admissions tried to be scientific. At the turn of the 20th century, Harvard began using an examination, and if you scored above a certain level, and could afford the tuition, you got in. A problem soon developed, though: too many of the “wrong sort of people” (Jews) were getting in. And so the more subjective components of the admission process–beginning to measure intangibles like “drive”, “ambition”, “character” became cover for ensuring Harvard remained, in the eyes of those who ran the place, Harvard. (Waspy, New England, “St. Grottlesex.”) And it’s perhaps that legacy–that in the past these subjective criteria were used to discriminate–that makes people nervous nowadays. </p>
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<li>For anyone with the time and energy and interest, I really recommend reading these three things: they’ve shaped how I view this process, and ultimately how I read files of applicants to the college. (Fortunately, like all schools, there’s a committee, and my input is weighed against the impressions of many others. It’s not like I’m some Roman emperor–the thumb goes down and the applicant is torn apart by lions, like in that crazy Respighi tone poem Feste Romane.)</li>
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<p>A nice New Yorker article by Malcom Gladwell (Blink, Outliers, Tipping Point) giving a lot of good background on the subjective admission process: [Getting</a> In : The New Yorker](<a href=“Getting In | The New Yorker”>Getting In | The New Yorker) </p>
<p>A quote I particularly like from the article: “The endless battle over admissions in the United States proceeds on the assumption that some great moral principle is at stake in the matter of whom schools like Harvard choose to let in—that those who are denied admission by the whims of the admissions office have somehow been harmed. If you are sick and a hospital shuts its doors to you, you are harmed. But a selective school is not a hospital, and those it turns away are not sick.”</p>
<p>Another thing to read is “Overachievers,” a book by Alexandra Robbins (who also wrote an interesting book on sororities called “Pledged”): [Alexandra</a> Robbins: The Overachievers | The Secret Lives of Driven Kids](<a href=“http://www.alexandrarobbins.com/theoverachievers/]Alexandra”>http://www.alexandrarobbins.com/theoverachievers/)</p>
<p>And finally, I can’t help but mention the Ivy League entry from the Stuff White People Like blog. It’s hilarious! (And you can insert Juilliard for Harvard and it would certainly apply to music): [Stuff</a> White People Like #98: The Ivy League](<a href=“http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/05/06/98-the-ivy-league/]Stuff”>#98 The Ivy League | Stuff White People Like)</p>
