In today’s Crimson, the editorial staff rules on the 300 likely letters that the College will send out to select members of this year’s senior class. Its main objection is to the fact that roughly two-thirds of the letters go to recruited athletes. Instead, the board believes that they should “give equal weight to a broader range of talented applicants, not just primarily athletes.” Furthermore, the editorial states that the admissions office should use the letters more sparingly, only in instances of “exceptional circumstances for exceptional students.”
But the piece does a poor job in defining what exceptional is and recommends a course of action that will hurt the university, in terms of its ability to attract the best and brightest in all fields. Furthermore, the editorial contradicts itself in various areas while failing to acknowledge the realities of college recruiting.
“Disadvantage?”
To start, the existing admissions office’s 2:1 ratio of athlete to “other” candidate strategy is deemed as giving “preference to one particular subset of the student population to the disadvantage of all the others.” This line suggests that non-athletes are somehow facing a disadvantage if they don’t receive a likely letter. But in a class of nearly 1,700 students, wouldn’t being a part of the 1,400-person majority that didn’t receive a letter simply be the norm? I don’t think that this overwhelming proportion of the student body feels in any way disadvantaged for having to wait until the official April 1 notification date; it is after all when we were expecting to hear back in the first place.
Likely Letters = Early Action?
The editorial then goes on to equate likely letters to the early action program that Harvard eliminated in 2006, purporting that the letters “privilege a specific pool of applicants” and upend the even playing field that was established with a strictly regular decision program. “[T]he College would do well to evaluate whether the institution of likely letters is truly consistent with its alleged commitment to equal opportunity.” I have a difficult time reconciling the fact that early admissions was eliminated at Harvard so that low-income and minority applicants wouldn’t actually be disadvantaged with the notion that likely letters simply inform certain applicants of their acceptance a bit earlier. I understand that both programs use the word “early” to describe them, but their objectives and outcomes are completely different.
The intent of early admissions was to give students the opportunity to apply by November 1 and hear back in mid-December. Applicants were said to demonstrate a clear interest in the university by taking this initiative. These early applicants also happened to know the exact difference between early action, which is what Harvard practiced, and early decision, which binds a student to attend the university if accepted. The latter hurts low income families because they don’t have the chance to compare financial aid offers, which come in after the regular decision round.
In the NYT article that the Crimson editorial references, interim-President Derek Bok said, “[M]any potential applicants did not understand the distinction between Harvard’s program and those that require an upfront commitment and were discouraged from applying.” Through an all-inclusive regular decision program, the college was able to ensure that people of all ethnic groups and classes would be able to apply at the same time with the advantage of early applications eliminated. Likely letters simply take from this egalitarian pool those who shine. The equality of opportunity is preserved. And in terms of sheer numbers, close to 40% of admitted applicants came from the early admissions round in 2005. Last year, a mere 14% of admitted students were notified with a likely letter.
Academic Index and The Stigma
Another aspect of admissions that the editorial lambastes is the Academic Index (AI), which is a number derived from an applicant’s high school GPA and standardized test scores; the average AI of Harvard’s athletes must lie within one standard deviation of the student body’s. The board objects to how “the admissions process for recruited athletes has an institutional structure that is not granted to applicants with any other skill set.” However, in the following paragraphs, the editorial goes on to discuss the stigma directed towards athletes, in which they are perceived as being “intellectually inferior and thus undeserving of a place among the student body.”
It bemoans the fact that this stigma exists and chastises the university for not doing anything to mediate this situation. But the board is being wholly contradictory when on the one hand it empathizes with student-athletes, while on the other it lashes out against the AI. Doesn’t the exact system that The Crimson criticizes justify our student-athlete peers’ place on this campus? Doesn’t the AI quantify this for us? If their academic credentials meet this stringent Ivy League-wide measurement, shouldn’t this be proof enough that they are in fact the intellectual equals we know them to be? And wouldn’t eliminating the AI cast even more doubt and further perpetuate the stigma?
The answer is a resounding yes to all these questions. Although the AI slightly changes the standards of admission, it does not serve as the final determining factor in a student-athlete’s admission. A coach cannot simply get a recruit accepted because s/he meets the AI criterion. The final judgment lies with the admission office. Rather, the AI quantitatively demonstrates that the school is meeting its commitment to academics, all the while trying to bolster its athletic program. The same could be said about the music department or any research field.
The Crimson cannot have it both ways; it cannot advocate for the abolition of the AI, which empirically legitimizes everyone’s academic qualifications, as it laments the “unfounded stereotypes” that exist surrounding student-athletes. They are unfounded for the reason that the AI exists.
A New Standard for What Is Exceptional?
As mentioned earlier, the conclusion of the editorial is that likely letters should be used in “exceptional circumstances for exceptional students.” What this exactly means for a student body that is supposedly exceptional in the first place is a bit ambiguous. The two examples provided are as follows: “gifted students who are the first from their country to apply to Harvard or Olympic athletes with notable academic achievements.” These are truly atypical circumstances. Perhaps someone from the Republic of South Sudan will fit this bill next year and receive a likely letter. But in the meantime, I object to The Crimson‘s unrealistic conception of what it means to be “exceptional” and instead throw my support closer in line with the current policy.
The Realities of Recruitment
It is clear that Harvard is committed to its athletics. With the largest Division I program in the nation, the school holds steadfast in its beliefs that its students can excel both on the field and in the classroom. My own experiences with peers who have to manage 15-hour practice schedules (which quickly inflate during weeks with matches and travel time) with a full course load prove this. So, in order to preserve this vision, the school must do its part in attracting and recruiting the brightest and best student-athletes. As per the likely letter program, it is doing that. Without the ability to grant athletic-based scholarships, Harvard is faced with the difficult task of having to compete with other academically excellent universities that can do so, such as Stanford and Northwestern. The likely letter proves to be a useful tool in addressing this concern. In addition, it is encouraging to see that the school was able to cull such a talented basketball recruiting class for next year, all the while maintaining the department-wide Academic Index.
Where To Go From Here
One of the few areas that I do agree with The Crimson on is having more likely letters target other talents. It is essential to build a diverse student body, with people who possess various skills and hail from different backgrounds. Perhaps raising the number of non-athletic likely letters from 100 to 200 would go a long way in encouraging the best musicians, researchers, mathematicians, writers, and others to come here and enrich our collective experience.
The likely letter is indeed a “powerful tool” that Harvard can use to its advantage to attract these candidates. That is why it would be a complete waste for the university to send out only a handful to “Olympic athletes” and “gifted students who are the first from their country to apply to Harvard.” Additionally, by sending them out, the admissions office isn’t hurting any of its applicants or reverting back to the days of early admissions. Instead, it is notifying qualified student-athletes and other highly-coveted candidates that they have a place in the next freshman class.
Would Harvard have to send out so many—if any—likely letters if it could grant athletic scholarships? Or admit students early? Or grant merit-based scholarships? The answer is no. But if we were to answer yes to any one of these questions, that would mean that the admissions playing field is no longer even and/or less need-based scholarship money is available. So, given that Harvard operates within the framework of remaining committed to equal opportunity and its need-based aid program, likely letters remain a necessary component of admissions.