This December, Take a Pass on Recruit-to-Deny Admissions

A few years ago, still panting from her modern dance class, a student burst into my office on Cyber Monday to tell me about a “bizarre” email she had just received from a college.

No names. But it was an Ivy with a microscopic acceptance rate.

So I took a pause from the Saks website and we read it together. It was a buttery, sweet-talking, ingratiating recruitment email reminding her that “there was still time” to apply to said college through regular decision. 

We had talked about this particular college once, for less than two minutes, 10 months earlier. We had dismissed it as not a match, and it was a stretch on the admission side.

“This is gross,” the student declared, “like they need another application, and I know I’m not going to get admitted in regular decision. I love my list, and just don’t want to mess with it. And don’t even get me started on their supplement.” 

Vexed, she clutched my sequined Jonathan Adler throw pillow like a life preserver, and asked me what I thought she should do.

“Take a pass,” I said, not missing a beat. “Right,” she said, handing the pillow back to me and departing in a flash of self-empowerment. And we never spoke of it again. A wise and fortuitous response to one of the the slickest perils of the modern admission world: recruit-to-deny admissions.

Recruit-to-deny is a practice in which some ultra-selective colleges (those with acceptance rates below about 15%) work overtime to rope as many candidates into their pools as humanly possible. And then they turn around and deny a vast majority of them. Why? You asked that at just the right time. It artificially suppresses their acceptance rates, and in turn, boosts their rankings, their brands, and their self-serving perceptions of their own prestige. You know: all the important things that really matter in education, and in life. End sarcasm.

Part of the effectiveness of this Gordon Gekko-ish strategy lies in the “new math” of college admission, in which these ultra-selective colleges fill huge proportions of their classes through early admission programs, leaving far fewer seats available for regular decision contenders. Here are some numbers from an ultra-selective college during a recent admission cycle (I have rounded the numbers off slightly for the sake of simplicity):

And you better believe that their overall acceptance rate would be all kinds of higher if it wasn’t for those 44,000 regular decision applications.

The long and the short of it is that no college in America needs a six percent acceptance rate to effectively fill their class with fabulous people. Not one. 

So if you get one of those sugary emails from one of these ultra-selectives – or as someone I know calls them: “ultra-rejectives” – this December, think carefully about why they want you to apply. Here is a hint: it’s probably not you specifically. It’s definitely not your $75. They could just be looking to say “no” as much as they can.

But what if you “love” it? Sorry, boo. I’ve heard that one before. If you really loved it and it was a great fit – and an admit was in the realm of possibility – it almost certainly would have found its way onto your list by now.

But this is a good time to take one last hard, honest look at that list. You should make sure that you genuinely like all the colleges to which you are applying, that they are all good fits, and that you would be happy to attend all of them. Every. Single. One. This is particularly important for your likely schools, as I wrote about last year at this time.

In the end, I admit that it can be hard to say “no,” even if an offer or invitation comes with dicey motives. It takes strength and power and purpose, and a little bit of courage. And a resolute knowledge that you will land in the right place, with the right people, at the right moment – and through the right process.

This is true in the college admission world. And it's true in life. 

When I was 29, I frequented the OG Barry’s Bootcamp in West Hollywood, just around the corner from my apartment. I’ll admit that I was addicted: to the steam, the flashing lights, the ab crunches, the oft-sighted celebrity – the whole gestalt. The bass from Bad Romance literally shook the whole building. It was magic, and being there felt fabulous.

One day, as I was heading out after a particularly brutal class, I was approached by somebody whose name you’d recognize. I sure did. A Los Angeles heavyweight with a brilliant smile and seven-figure bank balance. And a deeply questionable reputation. 

He asked me if I would be interested in dinner.

I remember thinking that this was one of those weird LA moments that usually coalesced into a bad first screenplay.

Except that I also remembered: we always write our own films.

I looked at him and said: “You’re sweet, and I’m beyond flattered: but I’m going to take a pass.”

The Year of Living Gratefully

Despite the overt risk of sounding like a clearance bin self-help guide, I will admit that at certain points in my life, I’ve struggled to express enough gratitude. Perhaps this affliction is not uncommon amongst those who loosely match the public perception of my previous self: young, ambitious and outwardly fabulous.

But in middle age, gratitude is something that I find myself trying to summon more and more - and thankfully, it eludes me less and less. Part of this evolution is just the wise, natural march of age. But honestly, I owe a good chunk of this quiet victory to my profession.

In turn, I constantly remind students to find and seize gratitude in the college process, its work, and its associated transitions. I surely do. And there is much on offer.

If you are a junior just starting out, this may seem odd to you. Gratitude for something that feels like a daunting, perilous schlep into the unknown?

Well, yes. If you do this process in any way that even abuts right, I guarantee you will grow exponentially in the year ahead. You’ll also have copious fun. You will meet fabulous people, many of whom can walk backward while praising student research opportunities and ignoring plainly visible beer cans in public waste receptacles.

You will become a far better writer and a more organized person. You’ll get to travel to random places that you’ve previously only flown over - and you will learn that you really don’t have to pay parking tickets issued by campus police.

You’ll discover that you can spend quality time with your family while simultaneously yelling at them. Critically: You will learn more about what makes you tick. And what makes you happy. And what gets you excited. And not because someone else told you these things - but because you found your way to them with your own instinct, your own reflection.

If you are a senior just wrapping up, or taking a break after Regular Decision - well good work. But you need gratitude, too.

First, extend some to yourself. You burned it out. You made it over the hump. Perhaps you got exactly what you wanted in December. Perhaps you didn’t (but trust me, you will end up someplace fabulous in the end).

Second, the next 12 months will be among the most profound and magnetic of your entire life.

I’ve found that we often have the most fun when the curtain is either going up or down - and in the next year, you will have both. You will get to celebrate yourself over and over again - and others will be there to celebrate you, too. It’s one of the only times in your life that you will be able to say “I’d rather have the cash” and not appear rude.

You will, for one last moment, relish the familiar.

And then, like magic, everything will be novel. You will realize that you miss your parents, and be happy that you had them to support you. You will get to make a raft of adult decisions for the first time. But the consequences of those decisions will be yours, too: an onus that will tee up opportunities for maturation and humility. This might mean that footage of you barfing in front of your dorm becomes a hot ticket Instagram reel. Your peers may think it funny - the Dean of Students will not.

You may fall in love for the first time with the person across the hall. They may not love you back. No matter. You’ll listen to Anti-Hero on repeat while running the stairs at the campus stadium and get over them in five minutes - and then you’ll meet someone new at the top of the stairs.

You’ll finally get to read all the books banned in Florida. It will take a while.

For all of this, dear students: you will and should be grateful. Doing so will help you become a better human and a better you. It will help you live your best life. And from the lessons of my own I can conclusively say: the more gratitude you discover in these years, the more you will inevitably discover as your life flows through adulthood.

And remember that gratitude comes alive when we express it. So tell others that you are grateful for them. Tell your family you love them. Thank people profusely, and hug people consensually. Write notes of encouragement on white boards. Buy your zealous but helpful lab partner Blue Bottle coffee, and take your overly forgiving roommate out for 2am pancakes. Send your hard-working college counselor a Saks gift card because they read your Carleton supplement 17 times.

However you show it - show it. Make it matter. Make it meaningful. Make 2024 the year of living gratefully.