U.S. Colleges Are Ill Prepared for Their Invasion

HERE COME THE WAR BABIES!

U.S. Colleges Are Ill Prepared for Their Invasion

AS HE gives informal talks to alumni across the U.S., the dean of admissions of a famous Ivy League university likes to give the old grads a jolt. "If you were to apply for your alma mater today," he is quoted as saying, "only 20% of you would get it." In that particular ploy, the dean is not alone. Says Acting President Archibald Macintosh of Haverford College : "I have occasionally talked to alumni about getting into Haverford today and have told them, 'I sometimes doubt if I would have admitted myself.' "

Though both men are intentionally exaggerating, their words illustrate a point. Never before have so many Americans wanted to get into college--and never before has the competition been so keen. Last week the U.S. Office of Education estimated that before the school year is out, enrollment in U.S. colleges and universities will hit a record high of 3,250,000. This record comes at a time when the college-age population, which in 1955 sank to its lowest point in 25 years, is still made up mostly of Depression babies. The crisis that the U.S. campus is now bracing for is the coming invasion of war babies.

The Pattern. So far, only the big-name colleges, mostly in the East, have really felt the first impact of the great tidal wave. Though the number of high-school students who go on to college has jumped from 15% in 1940 to 40%, the nation's 1,800 institutions of higher learn ing can still keep up with the demand. But what of the years immediately ahead? By the time the present crop of first-graders is ready for college, says Dean of Admissions Arthur Howe Jr. of Yale, en rollments may soar to between 5,000,000 and 8,000,000. What the favored campuses are going through now will soon become the standard pattern for all.

Last fall Oberlin College was able to accept only one out of two of those who applied. Since the 19403, Yale's applicants have jumped from 1,500 to 4,000, Harvard's have more than trebled. For the 6,000 boys who say they want to get into Dartmouth next fall, there are only 725 openings. Says Dean Emery Walker Jr. of Brown (present freshman class: 635): "Ten years from now we might have 10,000 applicants. That will be the real problem."

Panic & Deals. Actually, the problem is all too real right now for thousands of high-school students. In their panic to get into college--and in their wild search for the best scholarship deals--today's youngsters have acquired the habit of applying to as many schools as possible. One Connecticut boy, for instance, was able to choose between Amherst, which offered him no scholarship. Bates, which offered $600, Wesleyan with a $500 offer, Holy Cross with $700, and Yale with $1,250. Another boy sent Princeton an irate letter after he was rejected, pointed out that of the 23 colleges he applied for, 22 had accepted him. What, the boy wanted to know, was wrong with Princeton?

Because of these multiple applications, the favored schools are haunted by "ghosts." These are the students who are accepted but go elsewhere--the boys and girls, say the admissions officers, "who won't take yes for an answer." To make sure of an entering class of 1,200, the University of Pennsylvania accepts 2,100 students. Princeton accepts 1,200 to get a class of 750. Stanford estimates that 35% of those accepted will probably never show.

Brighter & Brighter. By piling up the total number of applications, the ghosts tend to distort the demand for higher education. But the demand is nevertheless there--and it has already begun to change the whole sociology of U.S. higher education. With more and more students to choose from, the big-name campuses are becoming more and more selective. At Harvard the number of students on the dean's list has gone up from 27% before World War II to nearly 40%. Indeed, says Amherst Dean of Freshmen Eugene

Wilson, "in five or ten years we may have 80% to 90% of our students capable of honors work."

Not only is the gentleman's C beginning to disappear, but to some extent so is the gentleman. "A college education," says Headmaster Edward Hall of the Hill School, "is no longer a hereditary right like a membership in a club. It is a prize to be won against increasingly rigorous competition." Though the child of the old grad may still have a slight advantage, even top private Eastern prep schools can no longer guarantee him a place in the college of his choice. Says Headmaster Hall: "It's kind of hard on the Yale alumnus who develops a kid as bright as his father but no brighter."

The emphasis on College Board aptitude tests has hastened the change. Since no one can prepare for them, the extra cramming that a prep school offers can no longer get the dullard through. Furthermore, the top private colleges have become increasingly less parochial in their search for students. Though swamped by applications, they still send out recruiters to schools all over the U.S. They want not only a bright student body, but a broad one; and wealth and background are less and less a factor. In 1910 only 10% of the men who applied for Harvard asked for scholarship aid; now 50% do. In 1947 the ratio of private-to public-school graduates at Yale was three to two; today it is the reverse.

Open Door? The approach of the tidal wave has also had an effect on publicly supported institutions. Those that are required by law or tradition to take in every taxpayer's child with a high-school diplo ma within their states have begun to wonder whether they can expand rapidly enough to maintain their open-door policy. Some have already answered no.

Since California has the most elaborate junior-college system in the country, the university is able to require that applicants have a B average in high school. But in such states as Oregon, where junior col leges are rare, many educators have begun to worry about what the tidal wave of students will do to their schools unless admissions standards go up. "It seems to me," says Chancellor John Richards of the state higher education system, "that if the weight of numbers of students threatens college instructional quality, then it is our clear obligation to control the numbers." Adds President Jean Paul Mather of the University of Massachusetts, which is studying a plan to consider only the top 20% of state high-school students: "In the future, we are going to have to place a tremendous faith in tests. We are the first to admit that there are faults in this, but for us it is not a matter of expediency. It is a matter of necessity. We have to get the horde off our necks." Retention v. Admission. As the standards go up at both private and public institutions, some educators have begun to worry about whether the emphasis on brains and tests might go too far. Many state-supported schools still feel they have a moral obligation to give every taxpayer's child his chance, even though he may flunk out. "We believe," says President Fred Hovde of Purdue University, "in the doctrine of opportunity. If students fail, they at least know they've had their chance." To Headmaster Seymour St. John of Choate, mere "quickness of mind" may become far too important. "Is there not a hazard," he asks, "of neglecting by default other vital factors in a student's makeup?" Adds Admissions Director Robert Jackson of Oberlin: "You have to leave the door open for the Winston Churchills. It is said of him that on the basis of his school record, he wouldn't be admitted to any college today."

Unfortunately, there is no sure scientific way to identify late-blooming Churchills. But most campuses try their best to look for more than brains. Today, says Director of Admissions Charles William Edwards of Princeton, "we talk in terms of the ideal entering class, not the ideal individual candidate. We want a well-rounded class. We wouldn't want everybody to be geniuses in physics, or editors of their school newspapers." "We want," says Dean Walker of Brown, "the brightest boys, but we want them balanced too." A typical well-balanced group is this year's freshman class at Yale. Of 1,031 boys, 506 were captains of varsity teams or won varsity letters, 228 were editors of their school papers, 114 were editors of their yearbooks, 178 were either presi dents of their student councils or of their senior classes.

Bribes & Phone Calls. With all this emphasis on brains and balance, the competition to get into college sometimes becomes a desperate affair. Dean Robert Pitt of the University of Pennsylvania says that in one year he received phone calls or letters from ten governors, as many Congressmen, and a host of board chairmen, all interested in pushing candidates. He has also been offered bribes ("O.K., how much do you want?" demanded one father as he whipped out his checkbook), has seen another father offer the university $3,000 if only it would take his son in. In Washington, D.C., the wife of a State Department official is even planning to move to France so that her two sons can learn French and German and thus have an advantage when the time for college comes. One Princeton alumnus hounded his alma mater to take in his boy, even though he knew the boy would probably flunk. The father's argument: unless his son got in, he wouldn't be eligible for the Princeton Club of New York.

To cut down on the number of student casualties and parental disappointments, city after city has organized elaborate counseling programs to try to identify the college material early and to steer students to the schools best suited to them. At the same time, private prep schools are trying to persuade ambitious fathers not to think only in terms of big-name colleges. But, says Headmaster W. Gray Mattern Jr. of Wilbraham (Mass.) Academy, "It's difficult to convince the third generation Harvardman that his obviously unqualified son just won't be admitted. After a while, you get tired of talking and say, 'All right, go ahead and apply,' even though you know it's hopeless."

Goodbye, Loafer.No matter how much U.S. higher education expands or how many junior colleges the nation builds, there will still be casualties, because the admissions standards of most colleges are bound to keep rising. But to Headmaster Lloyd M. Clark of Pennsylvania's Kis kiminetas Springs School, the big competition for education is not a crisis but a cause for rejoicing. "This change at the admissions office," says he, "has altered the atmosphere all over the campus. In the classrooms the professors can insist on high achievement levels and dismiss the loafer . . . The time has come when the college student must really produce . . . How the educators love this!"

In Marin County, Calif, last week, young Mike Zeller, a senior at the Sir Francis Drake High School, added an observation of his own that is as good a summary as any of the plight of the American student: "We all have the feeling," says he, "that we're not going to get into the college we want to. When I was a sophomore, older kids told me that it was tough to get into college. But I didn't believe it. When you're a sophomore, you want to have fun. I wish somebody had made me believe it. I'm really sweating it now."

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