As the fallout from the recent college admissions scandal slides from the top of my notifications down to page two, I have noticed that the reactions to the stories seem to fall into two distinct camps. One is shock and outrage: what do you mean some kids get into school based on something other than merit? That’s so unfair. The other is bemusement: wait, are you telling me that you just now noticed that some kids are more privileged than others? Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you just now noticed that water is wet. The one element of this story that both sides seem to be somewhat in agreement on, however, is amazement at the sheer ballsiness of the whole scheme: the way that there seemed to be almost no effort at subtlety. It’s as if Mulder and Scully had both just found out that AT&T has a special “friends and family” plan for aliens—yes, Scully was finally convinced that aliens are real, but even Mulder was shocked by how commonplace they were.
The effect that this story has had on me personally is kind of a cross between the two reactions: on the one hand, with two college-age children (one just beginning, the other finishing up her undergrad), I can’t help but be annoyed at the thought that someone could simply write a check and duplicate the years of study (on one of their parts), practice (on the other’s), and community service (both of them) they undertook. On the other hand, this story has only made it clearer for me all of the ways our own family’s privilege has helped them buy their way into college.
I know this to be true because the first thing I thought when I read about the one parent who paid $15,000 dollars for someone else to take the ACT for their child, (thereby raising their score from a 23 to a 35) was, “Damn, that’s a pretty good deal.” And it is, because even at a state school the difference between a 23 and a 35 is roughly equivalent to about $60,000 in scholarships. More importantly (or, rather, important on a different level, because $60,000 is pretty important), the difference between a 23 and a 35 could be the difference between a thin little rejection letter and a fat acceptance packet.
But that’s not fair, you say. No, it isn’t. But then again, how fair was it that I was able to send my children to study abroad or take school trips to Mexico, San Francisco and LA? How fair was it that they didn’t have to get after school jobs to help pay the rent, and so were able to do volunteer work instead? How fair was it that they got their ACT scores raised by subject specific tutoring? Because if we’re talking a strict dollar to dollar comparison, I am sure that I spent far more than $15,000 on college prep.
In this country there are many different doors to get you into college; unfortunately, almost all of them are in the back. The myth of the promising student plucked from obscurity and given a full ride is on the same level as the myth of the beautiful girl working at the soda fountain before being “discovered” by a Hollywood agent. Sure, both of those stories might have happened to someone, once, but even if they are true it is highly unlikely that they will ever happen again.
When you make something unaffordable, yet necessary, people are going to do whatever it takes to get it. And “whatever it takes” generally implies lying, cheating, and stealing. (And yes, I know that not everyone needs a four-year degree, but community colleges certificate programs and technical schools come with a cost—sometimes quite steep—as well.) It seems to me that the shock and outrage at the “college admission scandal” would be far better directed at the cost of getting into and attending college than at a few people who got caught trying to navigate it all.
Maybe it’s time for everyone to stop hating the players, and start to hate the game.