Across the country, millions of high school seniors are already preparing college applications for next fall. Those who apply to highly selective universities will be engaged in a struggle for very few spots. Last year, my university, Johns Hopkins, admitted 2,477 students from a pool of 38,513 applications.
An offer of admission can be transformational, especially for students from low- and middle-income families. Universities continue to be among the most powerful engines in our society for moving people up the socioeconomic ladder: An American with a college degree is poised to earn more than twice as much as an American without one.
But are universities giving students a fair shot? Evidence suggests not. Harvard economist Raj Chetty and colleagues found last year that “high-income students are 34 percent more likely to attend selective colleges than low-income students with the same test scores.” With so many talented students vying for so few seats, schools have adopted an array of policies and practices to help determine whom to admit. Regrettably, these policies often disadvantage high-achieving low-income students.
Take “demonstrated interest,” or an applicant’s perceived enthusiasm for a school, typically measured by campus visits, alumni interviews or whether an applicant visits a school’s Web site.
Although seemingly innocuous, “demonstrated interest” tilts in favor of students with the ability and knowledge to travel to campuses, to schedule and navigate interviews, and to send potentially esoteric signals of interest. Did a student write a “thank you” note to a campus tour guide? Spend more time reading an e-mail from the university than the average applicant? Make a phone call to the admissions office? Those who are unable or don’t know to do these things end up losing out to those who do, creating a structural impediment for low-income and first-generation students, who are also overwhelmingly students of color.
Why does such a practice develop? One word: yield. This refers to the fraction of students who accept an offer of admission each year. The higher the yield, the more selective the school becomes. More selectivity increases institutional prestige and was, for many years, a critical factor in determining where a school landed on US News and World Report’s annual college rankings. Policies designed to maximize yield like “demonstrated interest” — which Johns Hopkins does not consider — are an unfortunate consequence of this competition among and between universities.
The quest for ever higher yields is benefitting wealthier students. It doesn’t have to, but the incentives need to change. Universities should instead be competing for more high-achieving, low- and middle-income students.
Colleges and universities have engaged in virtuous competition before to make higher education more accessible and affordable. In 1966, as calls for greater equity in higher education reached a fever pitch, Yale University — under the leadership of a progressive president and dean of admissions — announced that its admissions would henceforth be “need-blind” (meaning that the school would guarantee financial aid to any admitted student regardless of need). This kicked off a scramble among selective universities to follow suit.
Then, in the 2000s, in the midst of mounting criticism of the price of higher education, universities engaged in what journalists described as a financial aid “arms race” to attract and make college more affordable for low- and middle-income students. In each case, a potent combination of cultural pressure and institutional courage created the conditions for lasting, systemic change.
American higher education can do this again. But it will require action on several fronts. Universities themselves need to adapt their admissions practices to level the playing field and recruit more low- and middle-income students. They can eliminate entirely or radically reimagine polices like “demonstrated interest” to be fairer and more transparent and increase outreach to urban and rural public schools. Additionally, college and university rankings need to take account of social mobility to incentivize change, which US News and World Report has already begun to do.
The 19th century preacher Lyman Beecher once called American colleges and universities the “practical equalizers of society.” We haven’t fully realized that vision yet, but we can if we’re willing to fight for it.
Ron Daniels is the president of Johns Hopkins University and the author of “What Universities Owe Democracy” (Johns Hopkins University Press, out now.)