Why the SAT Still Matters: My Take on the UC Faculty Revolt

A quiet rebellion inside one of the country's most prestigious university systems is teaching families exactly what I've been saying for years.

There's a quiet rebellion happening inside one of the most prestigious public university systems in the country, and every family with a college-bound student should be paying attention. Because the lesson coming out of it is one I've been telling my families for years: a test score is not your enemy. In a lot of cases, it's your best friend.

What's actually happening

In a recent piece for The Atlantic (Idrees Kahloon, June 9, 2026), we learned that faculty across the University of California system are openly demanding that the UC reconsider standardized testing in admissions. This started when veteran Berkeley math professors noticed something alarming: students were showing up to calculus unable to handle basic algebra. One professor described the bottom quarter of her class as being "in freefall." Another said she had to stop and re-teach fractions before she could teach calculus at all.

Five Berkeley professors wrote an open letter arguing that, at minimum, STEM applicants should once again have to submit test scores. As of the article's publication, more than 1,400 professors and lecturers had co-signed it. That's not a fringe complaint. That's a faculty revolt.

The breaking point came after UC San Diego released a report finding that roughly one in twelve incoming students struggled with middle-school-level math. Here's the statistic that should stop every parent cold: more than a quarter of the students who landed in UCSD's remedial math course had earned a 4.0 GPA in high school math. A perfect transcript that did not reflect the actual skill.

Why I agree — and why this matters for your family

I'll say it plainly: I think we need standardized test scores back, and the UC faculty are right to demand them. Here's my reasoning as a counselor who sits across the table from real students every week.

The transcript alone can no longer be trusted. Grade inflation has hollowed out the meaning of a strong GPA. When a 4.0 in math can coexist with the inability to solve a linear equation, the GPA has stopped doing its job. A proctored, standardized exam is one of the only signals left that can't be quietly inflated, padded, or — increasingly — outsourced.

AI has changed the game for the rest of the application. Essays can now be polished, rewritten, or essentially generated by artificial intelligence. Extracurricular lists reward families who know how to package a résumé. Of all the pieces in an application, the test sat under controlled conditions is the one that's hardest to game. As one Berkeley professor put it, without it, admissions risks becoming a "random draw out of a black box."

Tests can lift up the students who deserve it. This is the part critics often miss. The UC's own 227-page faculty task force concluded back in 2020 that test scores predicted college performance — GPA and graduation rates — better than high-school GPA alone, and that this held true for disadvantaged students too. When MIT brought testing back in 2022, it specifically said scores helped them find talented, low-income students who had no other way to prove they were ready. A great score from a struggling high school is a megaphone for a kid who would otherwise be overlooked.

The market has already spoken. MIT reinstated testing in 2022. Harvard followed in 2024, Stanford in 2025, and Yale just last month. The UC is now the outlier, not the trendsetter.

The honest counterpoint

I won't pretend this is one-sided, because good counseling never is. The Atlantic piece is clear that abandoning the tests did not blow up the UC system the way either side predicted. The racial makeup of the student body barely changed, and overall graduation rates held steady. Critics also make a fair point: the pandemic devastated math learning nationally — NAEP scores show 45% of 12th graders now testing "below basic" — and the SAT can't fix that decline. It can only measure it.

A thermometer doesn't cure the fever, yet you'd never want a doctor to throw it away. Right now, the UC is treating students without taking their temperature — and then acting surprised when calculus class falls apart.

What this means for you, practically

• Prepare for the test as if it's coming back — because it is. The momentum is unmistakable, and the worst position to be in is unprepared when the requirement returns.

• A strong score is leverage, not a burden. Even at test-optional schools, a good score strengthens your file. Submit when it helps you.

• Don't let a soft transcript lull you into a false sense of readiness. If you're heading into a STEM major, your actual math fluency matters more than your report card. We'd rather find the gap now than have you discover it in a Berkeley lecture hall.

• Build genuine skill, not just an application. AI can write your essay. It can't take your calculus exam for you in week three of college.

The students who'll win the next few years are the ones who treat the test as proof of real preparation — not a hoop to jump through. That's the work we do at Clearing. We help students walk into admissions and into freshman year actually ready.

Thinking about how testing fits into your college plan? That's exactly the conversation we love to have. Reach out to Clearing College Bound Counseling — let's build a plan that's ready for whatever admissions does next.

Source: Idrees Kahloon, "Actually, the SAT Was Necessary After All," The Atlantic, June 9, 2026.

How to Build a College List That Actually Works

Most families approach the college list the same way they approach a wish list. They write down schools they have heard of, schools their friends' children attended, schools with recognizable names. Then they add a couple of schools that feel safe and call it balanced.

That is not a college list. That is a collection of names. And it tends to produce a senior year full of anxiety, surprises, and decisions made under pressure rather than with clarity.

A college list that actually works is built on three things: honest data, a clear-eyed assessment of a specific student's profile, and a genuine understanding of what each school on the list offers that student. Here is how to do it.

Start with an honest academic profile

Before you put a single school on the list, you need to know where the student stands. That means GPA, the strength of the curriculum, and standardized test scores if the student is submitting them. It also means understanding how these numbers compare to the middle 50% of admitted students at each school you are considering, not the average, which can be misleading, but the range from the 25th to the 75th percentile.

A student whose numbers fall comfortably above the 75th percentile is likely to be admitted. A student whose numbers fall below the 25th percentile faces real difficulty regardless of other strengths. This is not the whole picture, but it is the foundation of every honest list.

Build genuine categories

A balanced list has three categories. Most families know the words but misapply them.

A safety school is a school where the student is highly likely to be admitted based on their academic profile, and where the student would genuinely be happy to attend. That second part matters as much as the first. A school that a student refuses to consider attending is not a safety. It is a placeholder. Every student should have two or three genuine safeties on their list, schools they have researched, schools that fit who they are, schools they could walk into on September 1st feeling good about.

A target school is one where the student's academic profile falls solidly within the admitted range, where acceptance is probable but not guaranteed. Target schools are the center of gravity of any good list. A student with a realistic, well-matched set of target schools has options regardless of how the reaches play out.

A reach school is one where the student's numbers are below or at the lower end of the admitted range, or where the school is so selective that even highly qualified students face long odds. Reaches belong on every list. They represent ambition, and sometimes they come through. But a list built primarily on reaches is not a plan. It is a gamble.

How many schools

The right number is somewhere between ten and fifteen for most students. Fewer than ten and the list does not provide enough options. More than fifteen and the quality of each application tends to suffer. Supplemental essays take real time and thought, and a student writing thirty supplements is rarely writing any of them well.

A reasonable structure for most students is two to three safeties, five to six targets, and three to four reaches. The exact balance shifts depending on the student's profile and goals, but that structure gives a family real choices when decisions arrive in the spring.

The list changes with strategy

If a student is applying Early Decision to a school, the list adjusts. ED fills a significant portion of many schools' incoming classes, which means the remaining spots in the regular round are fewer. A student committed to an ED school still needs a complete list, but the safety and target categories become even more important as a backstop if the ED outcome is a deferral rather than an admission.

Research is not optional

Every school on the list should be there for a reason. Not because a friend mentioned it, not because it appeared on a ranking, but because the student or family has looked at it seriously. That means understanding what the school offers academically in the areas the student cares about, what the campus culture feels like, what the financial aid picture looks like, and what students who attend actually say about their experience.

A school that lands on the list without genuine research is a school that could produce a bad decision in May. The families who feel best about where their student ends up are almost always the ones who treated every school on the list as a real option, not just a name on a spreadsheet.

The list is a living document

A college list built in January of junior year should not look identical in September of senior year. Schools change. A student's profile changes. The early application strategy takes shape. Research produces surprises in both directions — schools that seemed appealing turn out not to be, and schools that seemed like afterthoughts turn out to be genuinely exciting.

Build the list early. Revisit it often. And treat it as a tool for making a good decision, not a ranking of how ambitious you are willing to be.

At Clearing, building the college list is one of the first things we do together, and one of the things we return to most often. It is the foundation of everything that follows.

Acceptance Rates Have Collapsed. Most Families Haven't Noticed.

There is a number most families do not know, and it is one of the most important numbers in the college process right now.

Vanderbilt University accepted 33% of applicants in 2007. Today that number is 2.8%, from a pool of nearly 49,000 students. NYU admitted 65% of applicants in 1995. Today it is 7.7%. Northwestern and Tufts, schools that once accepted more than 30% of students, now admit fewer than 10%. Duke, Brown, Dartmouth, Bowdoin, and Williams are posting record-low acceptance rates. The schools that defined "ambitious but reachable" for a generation of families have moved to a different category entirely.

And most families are still working from the old map.

What Actually Happened

The number of students applying to college has risen 30% since 2020. The number of applications submitted has increased 55%. The graduating Class of 2025 is projected to be the largest in American history, at nearly 3.9 million high school seniors. Colleges are not expanding their freshman classes to match this demand. They are simply choosing from larger pools, which means acceptance rates fall year after year at the schools that were already selective.

The Common Application made it easy to apply to 15 or 20 schools with minimal additional effort. Many strong students now do exactly that. The result is that highly selective schools are flooded with well-qualified applicants, most of whom will be rejected regardless of their credentials.

At the same time, more than 2,000 colleges across the country accept the majority of students who apply. Some are now using direct admissions, where students are accepted simply by entering basic information into the Common Application. Access to a college education is not disappearing. What is disappearing is the middle ground, the schools that once felt like solid targets for a student with a 3.8 GPA and a strong profile. Many of those schools have shifted into a different tier entirely.

What This Means for Your Student

The families I work with are not trying to get into Harvard. They are trying to make a good decision about a strong school that fits their student. The challenge is that the schools in the middle of the selectivity range have gotten dramatically harder to get into, and many families are building their college lists based on acceptance rates from five or ten years ago.

A school that admitted 25% of applicants a decade ago might admit 12% today. That is not a minor adjustment. That is a different calculation entirely, and it changes which schools belong in the target, reach, and safety categories for a given student.

None of this is a reason for panic. It is a reason for preparation. The students who navigate this environment well are the ones with genuinely balanced college lists built on current data, not outdated assumptions. They are the ones who understand how to use Early Decision and Early Action strategically. They are the ones whose applications are specific and coherent rather than generic. And they are the ones whose families started the conversation early enough to make real decisions rather than rushed ones.

The landscape has shifted. What worked for the class that graduated five or ten years ago is not a reliable guide for the class that is applying now. Understanding where things actually stand is the starting point for everything else.

That is the conversation I help families have at Clearing.

The Numbers Don't Lie: Applying Early Changes the Odds

Every year I have the same conversation with families. They have a school they love. They are reasonably well-matched to it. And they are planning to apply in January with everyone else.

I understand the instinct. January feels safer. There is more time to prepare, more time to improve a test score, more time to think. But the data tells a different story, and it is one every family in the college process should understand before they decide when to apply.

The American college admissions calendar is not neutral. When you apply matters. At many schools, it matters enormously.

What the Data Actually Shows

The numbers below are drawn from the most recent admissions cycles and reflect publicly reported institutional data. They are not outliers. They are representative of a pattern that has held for years and, if anything, is widening.

Tulane University Early Decision: 59% Regular Decision: 14% The gap: 45 percentage points. A student applying ED to Tulane is more than four times as likely to be admitted as one applying in the regular round.

University of Miami Early Decision: 44% Regular Decision: 18% UM's ED rate is more than double its overall rate. For a school that many Miami families consider seriously, this is a number worth knowing.

Boston College Early Decision: 30% Regular Decision: 14% BC admits roughly twice as many of its ED applicants as its regular decision pool, from an overall applicant base of nearly 40,000 applications.

Emory University Early Decision: 37% Regular Decision: approximately 11% Emory fills a substantial portion of its class through ED. Students who apply early are competing in a smaller, more intentional pool and are rewarded for it.

Vanderbilt University Early Decision: approximately 24% Regular Decision: approximately 6% Vanderbilt is one of the most dramatic examples in the country. Applying regular decision to Vanderbilt, for a student who knows it is their first choice, is leaving a significant advantage on the table.

Why the Gap Exists

There are two reasons the early numbers are consistently higher, and both matter.

The first is yield. Colleges care deeply about the percentage of admitted students who actually enroll. An ED admit is a guaranteed enrollment, which makes ED applicants extremely valuable to an admissions office trying to build a predictable class. Schools reward that commitment.

The second is pool quality. Students who apply early tend to be more prepared, more certain about their choice, and more engaged in the process. The early pool is smaller and more focused, which changes the competitive dynamics in ways that benefit serious applicants.

Neither of these factors is going away. If anything, as more students become aware of the early advantage and apply early, the regular decision pool at selective schools is becoming increasingly competitive for the remaining spots.

What This Means for Your Student

ED is not right for everyone. It is a binding commitment, which means it only makes sense when three conditions are met: the school is a genuine first choice, the student is academically well-matched, and the family has enough clarity on finances that committing before seeing an aid package is not a risk.

Early Action is more flexible. It is non-binding, which means a student can apply early, get an answer in December, and still compare financial aid offers before making a final decision. For schools that offer EA, there is almost no downside to using it.

The families who navigate this well are the ones who do the work early enough to make a real decision. They identify the first-choice school before the fall of senior year. They have a clear enough picture of their financial situation to know whether ED is viable. And they understand that waiting until January is not the safe choice. It is often the more difficult one.

This is exactly the kind of planning I help families do at Clearing. If your student is a junior, the time to be having this conversation is now.

Ten East Coast Colleges Worth a Much Closer Look

Most families build their college lists around names they already know. That is understandable. The schools that dominate the conversation have spent decades building their reputations. But the list of colleges that offer a genuinely excellent education is far longer than the one that appears in the headlines, and some of the best options for a particular student are schools that family and friends have simply never heard of.

These ten colleges are not hidden because they are second-rate. They are hidden because they are not famous. There is a difference.

The South

Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida sits on one of the most beautiful lakeside campuses in the country. It is a serious liberal arts institution with strong pre-law and business programs and the kind of small-class environment where students actually know their professors. For Florida families in particular, it deserves far more attention than it typically gets.

Rhodes College in Memphis, Tennessee offers a rigorous academic experience in a distinctive Gothic campus setting. With around 2,000 undergraduates, it is small enough that students are never lost in the crowd. Its undergraduate research record is exceptional for an institution of its size.

Mercer University in Macon, Georgia operates as a genuine research university with strong programs in law, medicine, and engineering. It is consistently generous with merit aid, which makes it worth a serious look for high-achieving students who want a strong academic environment without an Ivy League price tag.

Carolinas, Virginia, and DC

The University of Richmond in Richmond, Virginia combines a liberal arts education with one of the most generous financial aid programs in the country. Its business school and pre-law pipeline are both strong, and the campus is genuinely beautiful. It is one of the most underrated universities on the East Coast.

Elon University in Elon, North Carolina has built a national reputation for experiential learning. Its study abroad participation rate is among the highest in the country, and employers consistently seek out its graduates. For a student who wants to do things, not just study them, Elon is worth serious consideration.

Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia is one of the oldest and most distinctive universities in America. Its honor system shapes the entire culture of the campus. Class sizes are small, the faculty is exceptional, and its pipeline to law school is among the strongest in the South.

The Northeast

Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts offers something almost no other institution does: qualifying seniors can complete a free master's degree as part of their undergraduate experience. It is a small, research-driven institution with a strong international focus and a genuine commitment to connecting academic work to real-world problems.

Muhlenberg College in Allentown, Pennsylvania is known for outstanding pre-med and theatre programs and for being consistently generous with merit scholarships. It is the kind of school where students who want to lead and contribute from day one will find real opportunities early.

Dickinson College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania has one of the strongest study abroad programs of any college its size. It attracts students who are serious about languages, sustainability, and international engagement. Small and intentional, it produces graduates who think across disciplines and across borders.

Colby College in Waterville, Maine is perhaps the strongest academic institution on this list that most families outside New England have never considered. It practices need-blind admissions and meets 100 percent of demonstrated financial need. Its campus is stunning, its research culture is exceptional, and its graduates go on to outstanding graduate programs and careers.

None of these schools is right for every student. The right school is always the one that fits the particular person. But if your student is building a college list and none of these names appear on it, it is worth asking why.

A.I. and Choosing a Major

For a long time, the standard advice was simple. Find what you love. Study that. The rest will follow.

That advice was never complete, and right now it is less complete than it has ever been.

AI is not a distant development. It is already changing what professionals in dozens of fields actually do every day. Legal research, financial analysis, medical imaging, basic coding, content production. Tools that automate significant portions of these jobs exist now and are improving rapidly. That does not mean those professions are disappearing. It means the skills that make someone valuable inside them are shifting.

The students entering college today will graduate into a labor market that looks meaningfully different from the one that existed when their parents graduated. Choosing a major without accounting for that is a real risk.

Consider a few concrete examples.

A student who loves writing and chooses journalism or content marketing is entering a field where AI tools already produce first drafts, summarize sources, and generate social copy at scale. The journalists who are thriving are not the ones who write faster. They are the ones who investigate, build sources, ask harder questions, and produce work that requires human presence and judgment. A journalism degree paired with data literacy and a specialty beat in health, finance, or politics positions a student very differently than a general writing degree.

A student drawn to law has real career prospects, but the entry-level legal work that once occupied first and second-year associates, document review, basic research, contract drafting, is being compressed by AI tools. The lawyers who will matter are those who counsel clients through complexity, argue, negotiate, and build relationships. A pre-law student who develops strong analytical and communication skills across disciplines is better positioned than one who simply checks the boxes.

A student interested in finance who pursues accounting with the goal of doing bookkeeping or basic tax preparation is choosing one of the most exposed paths available. A student who combines finance with data analysis, technology, or behavioral economics is pursuing something AI cannot easily replicate: the ability to interpret ambiguous information and advise real people making real decisions under uncertainty.

On the other side of the ledger, fields that are holding up well share common characteristics. Nursing and clinical medicine require physical presence, real-time judgment, and human trust in ways that cannot be systematized. Occupational therapy, speech pathology, and clinical psychology depend on relationship-based work that AI observes but cannot perform. Engineering disciplines focused on physical systems, civil, mechanical, structural, involve constraints and tradeoffs that require human accountability. Teachers, particularly those working with younger children or students with complex needs, are doing work that is fundamentally irreplaceable.

The creative fields are more nuanced. A graphic designer who only executes is exposed. A designer who directs, conceives, and makes strategic decisions about visual communication is not. An architect who draws is more exposed than one who thinks spatially about how humans inhabit space. A filmmaker who edits footage is more exposed than one who understands story, character, and what an audience needs to feel.

None of this means passion is irrelevant. A student who has no genuine interest in what they are studying tends not to do it well. But passion and trajectory are two different questions, and both deserve serious attention.

The conversation worth having is not which major sounds impressive or which career pays the most in year one. It is which combination of skills and knowledge positions a student to do work that requires a human being, specifically this human being, in ten years and beyond.

That is a conversation most families are not having early enough, and one I consider essential at Clearing.

Living on Campus

There is a version of the college experience that happens inside classrooms. Lectures, seminars, papers, exams. That part gets planned carefully. The other version, the one that often matters more, happens everywhere else.

It happens at 11pm in a dormitory common room when a student who has never been away from home figures out how to handle a conflict with a roommate. It happens when a group of people from completely different backgrounds end up talking about something none of them expected to care about. It happens the first time a student makes a decision entirely on their own, without a parent to consult.

That version of college does not happen from an off-campus apartment.

Living on campus freshman year is not just a housing decision. It is a developmental one. The research on this is consistent. Students who live on campus their first year are more likely to stay enrolled, more likely to graduate, and more likely to report feeling connected to their institution. Connection matters. A student who feels they belong somewhere shows up differently than one who does not.

The transition from high school to college is significant under any circumstances. Living on campus during that first year reduces the friction. It puts a student inside the community they are trying to join, rather than on the outside looking in.

Some families resist it for financial reasons. That conversation is worth having honestly. But for most students, the case for living on campus freshman year is strong, and the cost of skipping it is harder to measure and easier to underestimate.

The College Application Calendar Has a Secret

Most families assume the college application process works like this: spend fall of senior year getting everything together, submit applications in January, and wait.

That assumption costs students every year.

The American college admissions calendar has an early window, one that most families outside the U.S. educational system have never heard of, and one that even many American families misunderstand. It is called Early Decision and Early Action, and knowing how to use it is one of the most significant strategic advantages available to any applicant.

What Early Decision and Early Action Actually Are

Early Action and Early Decision are application programs that allow students to apply to colleges in late October or early November, roughly two months before the standard January deadline, and receive their admissions decision in December rather than waiting until spring.

They are not the same thing, and the difference matters.

Early Action (EA) is non-binding. A student applies early, receives a decision in December, and is under no obligation to attend. They can compare financial aid packages, visit other campuses, and make a final decision by May 1st. EA gives students the advantage of an early answer without locking them in.

Early Decision (ED) is binding. A student applies early with the commitment that if admitted, they will attend. They withdraw all other applications and enroll. In exchange for that commitment, many colleges give ED applicants a meaningful admissions advantage.

That advantage is real. At selective institutions, ED acceptance rates are often significantly higher than regular decision rates, sometimes double or more. A school that admits 15 percent of all applicants in the regular pool may admit 35 percent or more of its ED pool. The student is the same. The odds are not.

Why So Many Families Don't Know This

If you went to university in Latin America, Europe, or almost anywhere outside the United States, this system did not exist where you studied. University applications in most countries work on a single timeline. You apply, you are evaluated, you hear back. The idea of a binding early commitment in exchange for better odds is a distinctly American construct, and one that is not explained anywhere unless you already know to look for it.

Even families who have been in the U.S. for years often miss it. The information is available, but it is scattered across university websites and assumes a level of familiarity with the system that first-time navigators simply do not have.

The families who know about ED and EA and use them strategically enter the process with an advantage that has nothing to do with grades or test scores. It is purely informational. And information, in this process, is leverage.

How to Use Early Decision and Early Action Wisely

ED is a powerful tool, but it is not right for every student or every situation. Here is how to think about it.

ED makes sense when a student has a clear first-choice school, is academically well-matched to that school, and the family has a strong enough sense of the financial picture that committing before seeing an aid package is not a risk. Because ED is binding, applying without clarity on finances can create real problems. If the aid package comes back and the family cannot afford it, there is a process for withdrawal, but it requires documentation and is not guaranteed.

EA is more flexible and almost always worth considering for schools that offer it. There is very little downside to applying early non-binding. A student gets their answer sooner, relieves a significant amount of senior-year anxiety, and in many cases benefits from a slightly more favorable review.

Not every college offers both programs, and the rules vary. Some schools offer restrictive Early Action, which limits a student from applying EA to other private institutions simultaneously. Understanding the specific policies of each school on your list is essential.

The Bigger Picture

The college admissions process rewards preparation. Families who understand the calendar, the programs, and the strategic options available to them are not gaming the system. They are participating in it fully. Families who don't know these options exist are not less deserving. They are simply less informed.

That gap is exactly what I work to close at Clearing.

If your student is a junior, now is the time to be having this conversation. The early application deadlines in the fall of senior year arrive faster than most families expect, and the preparation, identifying the right first-choice school, building a realistic college list, understanding financial aid, takes time to do well.

The calendar has a secret. Now you know it.

Judd Shapiro is the founder of Clearing College Bound Counseling in Miami. He works with a small number of students each year, closely and individually, to find the school that is the right fit, not just the most impressive name. Learn more at clearingcbc.com.

Getting In and Thriving Are Not the Same Thing

Every spring, families celebrate college acceptances. The portal opens, a name appears, and the relief is enormous. Years of grades, activities, essays, and anxiety seem to resolve in a single moment.

But here is what that moment does not answer: will your child actually thrive there?

That is a different question entirely. And it is the one that matters most.

The purpose of a college education is not the diploma. It is what happens in the four years before it. The relationships formed with professors who push a student to think differently. The confidence built by leading something, contributing something, discovering that you are capable of more than you knew. The slow, irreversible process of figuring out who you are and what you care about.

That transformation is real. It happens at hundreds of institutions across the country. But it does not happen automatically, and it does not follow the rankings.

It happens when the environment is right for the student.

Some students flourish in large, intensely competitive universities where the pace is relentless and the peers are formidable. Others do their best work in smaller communities where professors know their names, where leadership opportunities open up in freshman year, where they feel confident enough to take intellectual risks rather than simply survive.

Neither path is better. The question is which one is right for your particular student.

Research in educational psychology has documented something families often discover the hard way. Students develop their sense of academic ability not just from their own performance, but from the performance of the people around them. A student who has always been strong can arrive at a highly selective institution and, surrounded by equally accomplished peers, quietly begin to doubt themselves. They participate less. They take fewer risks. They hold back. Their ability has not changed at all. But their environment has, and the environment shapes everything.

The right college surrounds a student with the people and resources that help them grow. It challenges them without overwhelming them. It gives them room to lead, to connect, to become.

That is a concrete outcome, and it is achievable. But it requires looking beyond the name on the sweatshirt and asking harder questions: Where will my child feel confident enough to engage fully? Where will they find real opportunities from the beginning? Where will they become the most interesting version of themselves?

At Clearing, this is the work. Not chasing prestige for its own sake, but finding the environment where a specific student, with their particular strengths, temperament, and ambitions, will genuinely flourish.

After nearly four decades in education, I have seen what the right fit produces. I have also seen what happens when a student lands somewhere that looks impressive on paper but does not fit the person inside. The difference is not subtle.

The right school is out there. Finding it takes clarity, honesty, and someone who knows how to ask the right questions.

That is exactly what I am here for.

Judd Shapiro is the founder of Clearing College Bound Counseling. He works with a small number of students each year, closely and individually. Learn more at clearingcbc.com.

Recommendation Letter

Why balance matters more than matching your major

The strongest approach for most students is simple: one letter from a STEM teacher (science or math) and one from a humanities teacher (English or history). The reason is equally simple. Colleges are not looking for confirmation that a student is good at the thing they already plan to study. They are looking for evidence that the student can think well in more than one area. A pre-med applicant with two science recommendations tells the admissions committee one thing. A pre-med applicant with a strong science recommendation and an equally strong English recommendation tells them something far more interesting.

Balance shows range. It shows a student who can think analytically and write clearly, who can handle a lab report and a research paper, who engages seriously in more than one kind of classroom. That is what selective colleges want to see.

There is also a practical redundancy problem with two letters from the same side of the curriculum. If a student is strong in science, they are generally strong in math. If they write well in English, they are likely a strong history student, too. Two science letters often end up saying the same thing in slightly different language. One from each side of the aisle gives the reader a more complete picture of the student.

When I work with students on this decision, I also encourage them to think about the relationship, not just the subject. The best recommendation comes from a teacher who knows the student well, who has seen them work through something difficult, and who can write something specific and genuine about them. A compelling letter from a history teacher who genuinely knows your student will always outperform a generic letter from a science teacher who barely remembers them.

And here is something students underestimate: teachers notice who shows up prepared, who is polite and respectful, and who contributes meaningfully to class discussions. These are not small things. A teacher who has watched a student engage consistently over the course of a year has something real to write about. A teacher who cannot recall the student's voice in the room does not. The recommendation letter is often a reflection of how a student showed up every day, not just how they performed on exams.

Timing matters as well. The best time to ask is at the end of junior year, before summer begins. Teachers are more available, less overwhelmed, and the year's work is still fresh in their memory. Students who wait until the fall of senior year are competing with dozens of other requests, and even the most generous teacher has limits on time and energy. Asking early is not just courteous. It is strategic.

Choose one STEM, one humanities. Choose teachers who know you. Ask before the summer. That combination does the work it needs to do.

Two Southern Colleges Worth a Much Closer Look

When families think about Southern colleges, they tend to land on the same handful of names. The schools below deserve a place on more lists. They offer rigorous academics, strong career outcomes, and the kind of environment where students are known rather than lost.

Sewanee: The University of the South (Sewanee, Tennessee)

Sewanee sits on 13,000 acres atop a Tennessee mountain, and the campus alone signals that something different is happening here. This is a school that takes the liberal arts seriously, runs its classes as discussions rather than lectures, and guarantees every student funding for a summer internship or research fellowship and a semester abroad at no extra tuition cost.

Academically, Sewanee ranks among the top 50 national liberal arts colleges, with a 9:1 student-to-faculty ratio and strong programs in environmental studies, biology, and the humanities. The Sewanee Pledge goes further than most schools dare: graduate in four years, or the fifth year is tuition-free.

Acceptance rate: approximately 51%. Tuition and fees run around $58,000, with an average net price for aided students closer to $26,000. Six years out, median graduate earnings are around $53,000, with 97% of graduates employed, in graduate school, or in service within six months. The alumni network is especially strong across the South.

Belmont University (Nashville, Tennessee)

Belmont is not a secret in the music world. Its Mike Curb College of Entertainment and Music Business is one of the most respected programs in the country, and the campus sits a short walk from Nashville's Music Row. But Belmont is far more than a music school. It offers strong programs in nursing, business, entrepreneurship, and the sciences, and it consistently ranks among the top schools in the country for undergraduate teaching.

Acceptance rate: approximately 88%, which makes it genuinely accessible. Tuition runs around $43,000, with the average aided student paying closer to $32,000. Ninety-four percent of graduates are employed within six months. The Nashville location means internship access that most comparable schools simply cannot match.

Both schools reward students who seek engagement over anonymity. If your student is self-motivated and wants to be known on campus, either of these is worth a visit.

Why "I Don't Know What I Want to Study" Might Be Your Student's Biggest Advantage

The case for intellectual curiosity over premature focus

One of the most common things I hear from families at the start of the college process is a version of the same anxiety: their student does not know what they want to study, and they are worried that this is going to hurt them.

I want to say something that took me years to say with confidence: it will not. For students with a certain kind of profile, genuine curiosity and intellectual range are not weaknesses to be managed. They are assets to be built into the application.

What Colleges Are Actually Looking For

Selective colleges are building a community. They are not hiring entry-level workers for pre-established roles. They want students who are going to ask questions, change their minds, and connect ideas across disciplines. A student who has decided at seventeen exactly what they want to do and has engineered every experience toward that outcome can be compelling. It can also read as flat, coached, or intellectually narrow.

A student who can articulate genuine curiosity, who can say honestly and specifically what they find interesting and why, even if they cannot say where it leads, is often more interesting to read about.

Undecided Is Not the Same as Unfocused

I am not making the case for the student who has nothing to say about their interests. I am making the case for the student who is genuinely curious across multiple domains, who has pursued real things in multiple directions, and who has not yet resolved the tension between them. That tension, handled well, is not a liability. It is a story.

The best personal essays do not announce a conclusion. They show a mind in motion. The student who has followed a single well-lit path from ninth grade to senior year sometimes struggles to write this essay, because there has been no real motion. The student who loves literature and wants to be a doctor, or who is drawn to both business and community service and cannot quite reconcile them, has something to write about. Done well, that is a powerful piece of writing.

How to Build the Application Around Curiosity

Curiosity needs to be demonstrated, not asserted. The activities list should show genuine engagement across areas, not a random collection of resume-building. The essay should not try to force a conclusion that was not actually felt. And the school research needs to be real. Supplemental essays for undecided students often ask some version of "what would you study here and why," and generic answers are the death of the undecided application.

There are also schools specifically designed for students who do not yet know what they want. Brown's Open Curriculum is the most famous example. Many of the best liberal arts colleges are built around exactly this premise. For the genuinely curious student, these schools are not fallbacks. They are the best possible fit.

When I work with a student who does not know what they want to study, the first thing I tell them is that we are not going to force an answer. What we are going to do is understand who they actually are, what they find interesting, and how to communicate that clearly and honestly. The students who do this well do not pretend to be certain. They demonstrate that their uncertainty is the product of genuine engagement with the world, not indifference to it. In the right hands, that is a strong application.

How Jewish Students Should Think About Campus Climate When Building a College List

Campus climate, Jewish life, and how to make a college decision you can feel good about

Over the past two years, I have had more conversations with Jewish families about campus antisemitism than in all my previous years of counseling combined. These are serious questions and they deserve serious answers, not reassurances, not panic, and not vague advice that sounds helpful but tells you nothing.

What the Data Actually Shows

The pattern is not uniform. It is specific. The schools where Jewish students have reported the most distress are concentrated among elite institutions, particularly in the Northeast, that have historically had large Jewish populations. Columbia is the most documented example. Harvard and Penn have had similar, if less extreme, experiences.

At the same time, there are schools with large, thriving Jewish communities where the climate has remained genuinely welcoming and where students report feeling comfortable being openly Jewish. The mistake is treating this as a single undifferentiated problem. It is specific to certain institutions, and the response of leadership has varied enormously.

What Actually Matters When You Evaluate a School

Administrative response, not just incidents. Every large campus will have some antisemitic incidents. The meaningful question is how the institution responded. The ADL's Campus Antisemitism Report Card grades universities on exactly these criteria and is worth consulting directly.

The strength of the Hillel and Chabad. A school with a well-funded, actively used Hillel where students regularly show up is a school where Jewish identity is normalized. Hillel International publishes data on Jewish student populations and engagement for hundreds of campuses. Use it.

What Jewish students actually say. Not what the university says. The most useful information I can get is from a twenty-minute conversation with a current Jewish student I did not get from the admissions office. Visit during the academic year. Walk into the Hillel unannounced. The students will tell you what the brochure will not.

Schools That Are Getting This Right

Tulane has roughly 44 percent Jewish undergraduates, not because it is a Jewish institution, but because it has become a place where Jewish students feel genuinely at home. George Washington University has one of the highest Jewish percentages of any private university in the country and a Hillel deeply embedded in campus culture. Emory, Brandeis, Boston University, and the University of Maryland all have substantial Jewish communities and meaningful administrative support. Brown is one of only two Ivy League schools where Jewish enrollment has grown over the past decade and its administration acted more decisively in response to campus protests than several peer institutions.

A Harder Conversation About Prestige

Some of the schools at the top of many Jewish families' lists are also the schools where Jewish students have had the most documented difficulty. I am not going to tell a family their student should not apply to Columbia or Harvard. Those are extraordinary institutions with profound Jewish histories, and many students will be fine there.

What I will say is that prestige is not a sufficient reason to dismiss legitimate concerns about campus climate. A student who attends a school where they can be openly Jewish, where Shabbat dinner is a social norm rather than a subcultural act, where the administration has demonstrated it will act when students are targeted, is in a better position to learn and thrive than a student at a more prestigious institution spending energy managing their identity. That matters. Four years is a long time.

There are excellent schools at every level of selectivity where Jewish students are genuinely flourishing. Finding the right one requires honesty, research, and sometimes the willingness to look past the name on the sweatshirt.

If Your Senior Is Traveling to Israel This Fall, the Time to Act Is Now

Why the college application calendar does not wait for the Israel trip

Every year, I work with Jewish day school families managing the same quiet collision: a senior who is supposed to be deep in the application process in August and September, and a school trip to Israel that takes them away for some or all of it.

The families who handle this well are not the ones with the most organized students. They are the ones who understood the problem early enough to build around it.

Why August and September Are Not Optional

There is a widespread misconception that the college application process really gets going in October. It does not. By October, the students who are in the best shape have already been working for months.

The personal essay needs six to eight weeks of drafting, feedback, and revision. Students who start in September for a November 1 deadline are starting late. Students who start in October are in serious trouble. Supplemental essays for selective schools require real research and careful editing. And August and September are among the last windows to sit the SAT or ACT before November 1 deadlines. Miss the September test and your options narrow significantly.

What the Trip Actually Costs

A student who leaves in mid-August and returns in mid-September, plus a week or two to feel re-engaged, is looking at late September before serious work begins. That is five weeks before November 1. Five weeks sounds like enough. It is not if you are starting from scratch.

The students who return from Israel and do not fall behind are the ones who left with their essays substantially drafted, their college list finalized, and a clear sense of what they are doing in October. The work they do in October is finishing work, not starting work.

What to Do Before the Summer Is Over

Start the essay in the spring of junior year, or at the very latest in June. Use July and early August as your production window. Finalize the college list before departure. And do not rely on Israel for productivity. Plan for a pause. If your student surprises you and gets work done, treat it as a bonus.

On testing: if your student has not settled their standardized testing situation before they leave, this needs to be resolved before they go. A student returning in mid-September has one realistic shot at a test before November 1. One bad day, one illness, and it is gone. Vague plans do not survive three weeks abroad.

The college application process does not flex around life events the way we might wish it would. What you can control is how prepared your student is before they go. That preparation starts now.

If you are not sure where to start, that is what I am here for.

What the Financial Aid Letter Is Telling You

Every spring, acceptance letters arrive and families feel a wave of joy. Then, a few weeks later, the financial aid packages follow. For many families, that second envelope is where the real decision gets made.

Financial aid letters are consequential documents. They are also, frequently, confusing ones. Understanding what you are actually looking at can make the difference between a good decision and one that takes years to recover from.

The sticker price is not the price. Colleges publish a cost of attendance that includes tuition, fees, housing, meals, books, and personal expenses. That number rarely reflects what a family will actually pay. What matters is the net price after grants, scholarships, and any institutionally awarded aid are subtracted. Two schools with very different sticker prices can end up costing a family nearly the same amount, and sometimes the school with the higher published cost is actually the better financial offer.

Not all aid is the same. Financial aid packages often bundle several different types of funding together, and the distinctions matter enormously. Grants and scholarships do not need to be repaid. Loans do. Work-study programs provide campus employment opportunities but require actual work hours to generate the funds. A package that looks generous at first glance may, on closer inspection, consist largely of loans. Read every line carefully.

The FAFSA is the starting point, not the whole picture. The Free Application for Federal Student Aid determines eligibility for federal grants, loans, and work-study programs. Many private colleges also require the CSS Profile, a separate form that asks for more detailed financial information and is used to determine the school's own institutional aid. Families applying to a mix of public and private schools may need to complete both. Filing early matters. Some aid is distributed on a first-come, first-served basis, and state deadlines often arrive well before the federal one.

You can ask for a better offer. This is something many families do not know, and it is worth saying plainly. If your financial circumstances have changed, if another school has offered significantly more, or if the package simply does not work for your family, you can contact the financial aid office and ask for a reconsideration. Put it in writing. Be specific. Be polite. Colleges expect these conversations, and some have formal appeal processes in place for exactly this purpose.

Fit and finances are connected. This is the piece that gets lost in the excitement of acceptances. A student who graduates with substantially less debt has more freedom. More freedom to choose a career based on interest rather than necessity, to pursue graduate school, to take a risk, to live without the pressure that significant loan obligations create from the very first month after graduation. Financial aid is not a separate conversation from the question of where a student belongs. It is part of the same conversation.

The goal is not just to get in. It is to get in somewhere, and then to be able to go. Understanding the financial aid letter is how that happens.

What You Are Actually Looking For on a College Visit

Most families approach the campus visit the same way they approach the college search itself, with a checklist. Dorms. Dining. Rec center. Safety rating. They walk the tour, nod at the right moments, collect the tote bag, and drive home trying to remember which campus had the better-looking library.

This is not the visit's fault. It is what happens when we treat a deeply human decision like a consumer comparison.

The campus visit, done well, is one of the most valuable tools in the entire college process. Done poorly, or for the wrong reasons, it produces nothing except a full tank of gas and a folder of brochures that look identical to one another.

Here is what I tell families before they go.

Stop trying to evaluate. Start trying to feel.

The tour will cover the buildings. You do not need to pay close attention to the tour for that. What you are actually trying to figure out cannot be found in any building. You are trying to answer one question: Can I see this student living here?

Not visiting. Not surviving. Living.

Watch what happens between the buildings. Watch how students move through campus. Are they alone, heads down, moving fast? Are they stopping? Are there groups gathered outside talking about something that seems to genuinely interest them? The energy of a campus on a regular Tuesday morning tells you more than any weekend open house event ever will.

Sit down and stay quiet.

Find a campus coffee shop, a dining hall, a library reading room. Sit for twenty minutes and do nothing. Just observe. This sounds simple. Most families skip it entirely because it does not feel productive. It is among the most productive things you can do.

A student who feels comfortable sitting in a campus space alone, not on their phone, just present, is telling you something about how that campus fits their temperament.

Ask the tour guide something real.

Tour guides are trained. They will tell you what they are supposed to tell you. You can usually disrupt this pleasantly by asking something specific. Not "What do you like about the school?" because that question produces a rehearsed answer. Try: "What surprised you most about being here?" Or: "What do you wish you had known before you came?" Or even: "What would you tell a student who was choosing between here and somewhere else?"

The answers to those questions, and the way the guide responds to the unexpectedness of them, will tell you something real.

Pay attention to how you feel in the last ten minutes.

Not the first ten. Not the middle of the tour when you are concentrating on the facts. The last ten minutes, when you are tired and your guard is down and you have stopped trying to evaluate anything. That is when the feeling surfaces, if there is one. Students who end a campus visit already imagining themselves there, already rearranging the furniture, already picturing a walk they might take, are often picking up on something accurate. That instinct deserves weight.

A note for parents.

Your job on the visit is harder than your student's. You are there to observe your student, not the campus. Watch their body language. Notice when they engage and when they go quiet. Listen for the questions they ask without prompting. You will learn more about where they belong by watching them in an unfamiliar environment than you will from any ranking or acceptance rate.

The goal of the visit is not a verdict. It is information. And the most useful information is rarely on the brochure.

The Gap Year Question: What Colleges Think

For many students, the gap between May's graduation ceremony and the following August's move-in day feels like the finish line. However, for a growing number of high schoolers, that gap stretches a full year, and with good reason.

Gap years have quietly shed their old reputation as a sign of indecision or privilege. Today, they are increasingly recognized as a deliberate, meaningful choice, and many colleges have come around to the same view. Still, when families bring up the idea during the admissions process, the room often gets a little quieter. Let's clear up some of what surrounds this conversation.

What colleges actually think. Most selective colleges, and many less selective ones, actively support gap years. Schools like Harvard, Princeton, and MIT have for years encouraged admitted students to defer enrollment and take time to grow before arriving on campus. In fact, Harvard's admissions office has published guidance on the topic for decades, noting that students who take a structured year off often arrive more focused and prepared to engage. Deferral policies vary by school, so it's worth asking directly, but the stigma around gap years in admissions offices is largely gone.

Timing matters. There is a meaningful difference between taking a gap year before applying and deferring after admission. Many students find it easier, and less stressful, to apply during their senior year, secure admission, and then request a deferral. This approach keeps the application process on a normal timeline and removes the uncertainty of spending an entire gap year without knowing where you'll be heading afterward. If a student is genuinely unsure about college at all, that's a different conversation worth having. But for students who are committed to college and simply want a year to grow, applying first is usually the wiser path.

What makes a gap year worthwhile. Colleges aren't looking for an extraordinary itinerary. They're looking for intentionality. A student who spends a year working a meaningful job, volunteering consistently, traveling with purpose, or developing a skill they couldn't pursue in high school will arrive on campus with something most freshmen don't have: a clearer sense of why they're there. That self-awareness tends to show up in the classroom, in relationships with professors, and in the choices students make about majors and careers.

A gap year spent aimlessly, sleeping in and drifting between odd jobs without reflection, is unlikely to help much. But that's a matter of planning, not a reason to dismiss the idea altogether.

A note for families. The gap year conversation is often harder for parents than it is for students. It can feel like delay, or a sign of something wrong. In most cases, it's neither. If your student is approaching this idea thoughtfully, with a concrete plan and genuine motivation, the year ahead may turn out to be one of the most formative experiences of their life, and one that makes the four years that follow far more purposeful.

As with so much in the college process, the right answer depends less on what any particular school prefers and more on what your student actually needs. That's worth figuring out early, and it's worth figuring out together.

What the College Essay Is Really For

What the College Essay Is Really For

Most students approach the college essay as an obstacle. Something to get through, get right, and get submitted. By the time they sit down to write, they have usually already asked some version of the following question: "What do colleges want to hear?"

That is the wrong question. And the answer, ironically, is that colleges want to hear something other than what most students say when they try to give colleges what they want.

Admissions officers read thousands of essays. They have read the sports injury that taught resilience. They have read the service trip to another country that opened a student's eyes. They have read the grandmother whose wisdom changed everything. These are not bad topics. They become ineffective when they are selected because they seem impressive rather than because they are true.

The personal statement exists for a specific purpose: to give an admissions committee a window into who this student is that the rest of the application cannot provide. Grades and test scores speak to academic preparation. Activities speak to how a student has spent their time. The essay speaks to how they think, what they notice, what they care about, and how they move through the world.

That is a meaningful invitation. Most students underestimate it.

The students who write the most compelling essays are almost never the ones who chose the most dramatic topics. They are the ones who wrote about something real with enough specificity and honesty that a stranger could recognize a distinct human being on the other side of the page. A great essay can be about a summer job, a family recipe, a long drive, an argument that changed something. The topic matters far less than the quality of attention the student brings to it.

My advice, when I work with students on their essays, is the same advice I have given for years. Start with what is actually true. Write toward it rather than around it. Trust that your real voice, at its most specific and most honest, is more interesting than the voice you think colleges want to hear.

They have heard that one. They are waiting for yours.

Starting Early

Starting Early Is Not About Pressure. It Is About Perspective.

One of the questions I hear most often from parents of ninth and tenth graders is some version of: "Is it too early to start thinking about this?" My answer is always the same. It is not too early to think about it. It is too early to panic about it.

There is a real difference between those two things, and it matters.

Starting the college planning process early is not about loading a fourteen-year-old with anxiety. It is about giving a family the time to make thoughtful decisions rather than rushed ones. It is about building a foundation before the pressure of senior year makes everything feel urgent. It is about helping a student discover who they are, not just what looks good on a resume.

In my experience, the families who wait until late junior year often find themselves overwhelmed. The timeline compresses, options narrow, and decisions that deserved careful thought get made in a hurry. Stress fills the space that perspective should occupy.

When students begin earlier, the process looks different. A sophomore has time to explore extracurricular interests genuinely rather than strategically. A junior can start researching schools with curiosity instead of desperation. By the time applications open, the student knows something about themselves and something about the schools they are considering. That knowledge is the difference between an authentic application and a manufactured one.

I want to be clear about what early planning does not mean. It does not mean hiring a college counselor in eighth grade and building every high school decision around admissions. It does not mean optimizing every summer for its application value. That approach produces anxious students with polished profiles and very little sense of who they actually are.

What it does mean is staying engaged, asking good questions, and taking the long view. The college process is ultimately a chapter in a much larger story. Starting early gives a student the time to figure out what that story is actually about.

The Safety School is Often the Right School

A safety school, in the common usage, is the backup. The consolation prize. The school a student places at the bottom of their college list because the odds of admission are high, not because anyone is particularly excited about it. It sits there quietly, doing its job, while the real energy of the process flows toward the reaches and the targets.

I have been doing this work for a long time, and I want to offer a different way of thinking about it.

Some of the best college outcomes I have witnessed over the years involved students who ended up at their so-called safety. Not because their other applications fell short, though sometimes that happened too, but because when they finally visited, or when the financial aid letter arrived, or when they sat down and got honest about what they were actually looking for, the safety turned out to be anything but a compromise. It turned out to be the right fit.

Here is what gets lost in the prestige conversation. A school that a student can get into easily is often a school where that student will be academically comfortable in the best sense of the word. Not bored, but well-matched. They will be competitive for research opportunities, scholarships, leadership positions, and the kind of faculty attention that transforms an undergraduate education. At a school where a student is a reach, those same opportunities are harder to access, and the daily experience of feeling academically outpaced carries real costs that nobody talks about much.

There is also the financial reality, which families sometimes treat as separate from the question of fit but which is deeply connected to it. A student who graduates with significantly less debt has more freedom. More freedom to take the internship that does not pay well. More freedom to pursue graduate school, or start something, or take a risk in their career before they have obligations that foreclose those choices. The name on the diploma opens some doors. Financial flexibility opens others, and those doors stay open longer.

None of this means a student should abandon ambition or stop applying to schools that excite and challenge them. Reach schools belong on every balanced list for good reasons. But I have sat across from enough families to know that the safety school is often the one that gets the least serious consideration, the least research, the fewest campus visits. It is treated as a formality rather than a genuine option.

My suggestion is to treat it like an option, because it is one. Visit it with the same curiosity you bring to the schools higher on the list. Look at what it actually offers in the programs and experiences that matter to your student. Ask what a student like yours tends to do there, and where they go afterward. You might find what many families find when they slow down and look carefully. That the school they almost did not take seriously was the one that made the most sense all along.

A Calm Timeline for College Planning

The process feels rushed. It does not need to be. Most families are not behind. They are simply surrounded by urgency. The antidote is a timeline that creates breathing room.

Grade 9

• Build habits and academic consistency

• Explore interests without turning life into a resume

• PSAT testing to determine a baseline

Grade 10

• Add depth to 1–2 activities: discussions around community service/internships/experiences

• Start noticing what environments help this student thrive

Grade 11

• Course rigor matters most here

• Build a balanced list of schools that fit academically, socially, and financially

• Testing (SAT/ACT) should be done early enough to avoid panic

Grade 12

• Fewer, better applications

• Essays that sound like the student

• Decisions made with fit in mind, not fear

The best plans reduce pressure. Clarity makes better work. If you want help building a timeline that fits your student, schedule an initial consultation.

Alignment

Junior year. Straight A’s. Recommendations that read like endorsements for public office. Clara’s parents came to my office with data. Acceptance rates highlighted in red. Rankings circled. Early Decision strategies mapped out like military campaigns. They spoke in probabilities and tiers. They did not ask what she wanted to study. In our first meeting alone, I asked her what she wanted from college. She paused.

“I want a professor who knows when I miss class,” she said.

That answer redirected everything. We stopped looking at acceptance rates first. We started looking at class size. Advising structures. Faculty access. Residential systems that made anonymity difficult. Not sexy metrics. Not the kind of thing that impresses at dinner parties.

She visited a small liberal arts college we had discussed in early spring. Cold. Brick buildings. No banners announcing rankings. A student tour guide who mentioned professors by name without checking notes. She sat in on a literature seminar. Twelve students around a table. No laptops. No raised hands. Just argument. After class, the professor lingered. He asked Clara what she was reading outside of school. Not what she planned to major in. Not her GPA. What she was reading.

“The Kite Runner,” she said.

“First time?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think Amir owes?”

She didn’t hesitate. “More than an apology.”

The professor smiled slightly. “Good. Guilt without action is indulgence.”

They talked for ten minutes. About loyalty. About exile. About how silence compounds harm. No one asked her test scores. No one referenced rankings. They talked about a book. The following week she walked into my office already smiling.

“That felt different,” she said.

Her first acceptance came from that school. Not an Ivy. Not top 15. A place many of her parents’ friends would have needed to Google. She cried when she opened the letter. Not because it was prestigious. Because she could see herself in that seminar room.

I used to believe there was a right school. Not one for everyone. One for each student. A name that signaled arrival. A logo that confirmed talent. I participated in that system longer than I care to admit. I counted acceptances. I did not count conversations.

Parents still arrive with spreadsheets. They ask, “Where can she get in?”

They rarely ask, “Where will she grow?”

The pressure economy runs on prestige. Bumper stickers become shorthand for parenting success. Acceptance letters are displayed like trophies. Students absorb this quickly. They learn to conflate selectivity with value, brand with identity.

Clara’s visit showed me the crack in the system. There are strong schools. There are weak schools. There are environments that stretch a student and environments that let one drift. But the myth of the singular, life-defining school is sustained mostly by adults treating adolescence like a qualifying round.

Clarity is rarer than ambition. Ambition multiplies applications. Clarity reduces them.

Ambition asks, “How high can I climb?”

Clarity asks, “Where do I belong?”

I had a student I’ll call Marcus who applied to fourteen schools. All ranked. All selective. He was admitted to three, including one Ivy. He visited twice before depositing. Large lecture halls. Teaching assistants running sections. An advising appointment scheduled six weeks out.

He lasted one semester, and transferred to a regional university forty minutes from home. Smaller classes. Professors who asked follow-up questions. An honors program that put him in a research lab by sophomore year.

His parents still don’t mention the transfer.

I have watched students arrive at elite institutions and disappear inside lecture halls of two hundred. I have watched others attend less celebrated schools and flourish because they were challenged, known, and expected to contribute. Prestige impresses neighbors. Alignment shapes lives.

At 61, I see the admissions process differently than I did at 41. It is not a referendum on worth. It is not a ranking of futures. It is a search for friction in the right places: intellectual stretch without isolation, independence without anonymity. The myth of the right school persists because certainty is comforting. If there is one best place, the path feels clear. But growth is rarely linear, and success rarely tied to a logo.

The students who thrive are not the ones who “win” admissions. They are the ones who enter environments that match their temperament and challenge their limits.

I think about Clara sometimes. Not often, but when parents arrive with their spreadsheets. She graduated three years ago. Double major. Honors thesis on post-conflict literature. She teaches high school English now in a town no one has heard of. She emails occasionally. Short notes. Always about a student, never about herself.

Last fall she wrote:

“One of my kids asked if she should apply early to Yale. I asked her what she wanted from college. She said, ‘I want a professor who knows when I miss class.’ I think I stole that from someone.”

The goal is not arrival. It is alignment. Look at the student first. Look at the institution second. Then watch where the two meet.

What Matters Most in Admission Decisions

Grades and course rigor still do most of the work Families often over-invest in the wrong variables. The strongest predictor of admission success remains consistent academic performance combined with an appropriately challenging curriculum.

Recent NACAC reporting continues to show grades and strength of curriculum at the top, with test scores playing a smaller role than they once did.

This is good news. It means the process is less about tricks and more about sustained effort. If you want a strategy, put energy into what compounds: course choices, writing, intellectual curiosity, and stable engagement over time. If you want help translating “what matters” into a plan for your student, reach out.

Suggested link: https://www.nacacnet.org/factors-in-the-admission-decision/

Test Optional Does Not Mean Test Irrelevant

The question is not “Should we test?” It is “Does testing help this student’s story”

Test optional policies created confusion. The practical question is simple: will a score strengthen the application given the student’s academic context and target schools?

A useful framework:

• Submit scores when they are clearly a strength in the context of the school list

• Go test optional when the score adds noise or distracts from stronger evidence

• Decide early enough that senior year is not dominated by retakes

Families do best when they treat testing as one tool, not the story. Grades, curriculum, and writing still carry the most weight. If you want help deciding whether scores help, I can give you an honest read quickly.

Suggested link: https://bigfuture.collegeboard.org/plan-for-college/apply-to-college/sat-testing-faq

The Common App Essay: The Best Essays Are Coherent, Specific, And Human

The Common App confirmed that the main personal essay prompts remain the same for 2025–2026. A strong essay usually does three things:

1. It makes a clear point

2. It uses specific detail rather than abstraction

3. It sounds like the student, not a committee

Admissions readers are not looking for performance. They are looking for clarity and a person they can imagine on campus. If your student is stuck between “impressive” and “honest,” choose honest and make it well structured.

Suggested link: https://www.commonapp.org/blog/announcing-2025-2026-common-app-essay-prompts

How to Build a Sensible College List

Building a College List - A good list reduces stress. A bad list creates it.
A workable list is balanced across three realities:

• Academic likelihood

• Social and environmental fit

• Financial feasibility

A simple structure:

• 2–3 Likely schools (true likelies, not wishful thinking)

• 4–6 Target schools

• 2–4 Reach schools, chosen thoughtfully

The best lists are not status statements. They are decision-ready options. If a list does not produce real choices, it was never a list. It was a hope. If you want, I can help you build a list that produces good options without panic.

Suggested links: https://www.usnews.com/education/best-colleges/articles/nonacademic-factors-to-consider-when-choosing-a-college

Early Decision: When It Helps and When It Hurts

Decision Season - Early decision is a strategy. It is also a commitment.

Early decision can be a strong tool for the right student and the right family. It can also backfire if it is used to relieve anxiety instead of to express a genuine first choice.

Before applying early decision, be sure:

• The school is a true first choice

• Your family understands the financial implications

• You will be comfortable enrolling if admitted

The best early decision applications come from clarity, not fear. If you want a quick sanity-check before committing to ED, schedule a consultation.

The Most Underrated Service in College Counseling: Post-Admission Decision Support

Decision Season - Getting in is not the finish line. Choosing well is.

Most families focus on admission. The most consequential moment is often the final decision.

A good decision process includes:

• A side-by-side comparison of academic support and student experience

• Total cost and real affordability

• Campus culture and day-to-day life

• The student’s readiness and temperament

The goal is not to win admissions. It is to choose a place where the student will actually thrive. If your family is weighing options and feeling stuck, that is exactly the moment to talk.