I hope you’ll keep reading at my new locale.

Farewell, Class of 2014, your amazing race is finished.  And welcome to the long and winding road, ‘15ers.  We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.

In the short interim between one admission process and the next, the Admissions Office is uncommonly quiet.  The phones don’t ring.  The lobby is mostly empty, except on Fridays.  My in-box has fewer than a dozen messages in it.  While there’s no tumbleweed blowing across the quad, we do miss the company. 

But the quiet moment is short-lived.  The Fourth of July brings more than fireworks and parades to a college campus: SUVs and minivans full of visitors will reappear in our parking lots soon enough.  The tour guides walking backwards in flip flops (try it—it’s not easy) will have lots of ground to cover.

As the soon-to-be or recently-graduated seniors can attest, the college search does end.  The endless visits and deadlines and questions about “next year” do produce a destination.  And, happily, much of the anxiety about “first choices” and Early Decision and “safety schools” and waiting lists fades quickly.  Once a search produces a college (and hopefully it’s a college of choice) that place suddenly feels like the obvious selection, the one that was staring you in the face for months but you didn’t see it.

Dear rising (I’ve always loved that vampire-like modifying adjective, but maybe I’ve been watching too many episodes of “True Blood”…) seniors: as you escape the end-of-junior-year crush of AP exams and proms and senior portraits for the yearbook, take a moment and enjoy the summer.  I kid you not.  Here’s a hall pass, signed by the dean.

Don’t fill the precious weeks of July and August with more stress and new deadlines and an endless list of things “to do.”  Go for a swim.  Play some games or plant a garden full of flowers or tomatoes.  Sleep a little longer.  Eat a Popsicle.  Spend some quality time with your grandmother or little brother. You’re only 17 once (unless you’re a teen vampire…) and, while it’s been a long time since I could claim that number as my own, I remember it fondly. 

In short, give yourself permission to be a kid for a little bit longer.  Junior year was hard, as it’s supposed to be. Rest up for your senior year, when there really will be a degree of stress, new deadlines to meet and a robust list of things “to do.”  Remember, schools call it “summer vacation” for a reason.

See you in September.  (Yes, I think I just gave myself a blogging vacation!)

In a few days (sooner than later, I hope) your college search will end as the Candidate’s Reply Date comes and goes.  It feels like I just pressed the “send” button on March 31, sending thousands of decisions into cyberspace.  But here we are, almost a month later, and we’re smiling at one another in a coy dating dance as the hourglass empties. 

I hate to be a party pooper but it’s time to decide.  If this were a game of musical chairs, the music is about to stop and it’s time to grab a seat. 

April has been a busy month for all of us.  We talked, virtually and in person, as you mulled your enrollment choice. You read all the blogs and reread the viewbook. Facebook kept you “connected” and preoccupied for a few weeks as you checked out the other accepted students and asked yourself, “Do these kids seem cool?  Do I want to spend four years with this crowd?” You hopped in the car or on a plane and took a second look at your options. 

We planned an Open House (three of them, actually) and many hundreds of you (plus a parent or two, although most were clearly instructed to “keep quiet” as you took charge) visited campus one last time.  It was mostly sunny here in Medford and the quirkiness of Tufts was on full display as the Academic Quad sprang to life in a carnival-like atmosphere.  Panels and tours and overnight stays in the dorms were on the menu.

Some of you headed home with bulky shopping bags from the campus bookstore (always a good sign) while others were still scratching their heads as the program ended.  “It’s down to two!” one girl told me, relieved that she had already eliminated six other suitors. 

We’re staring at the finish line, tired and excited to see this marathon end.  To date, 890 students have joined our Class of ’14 and 385 seats are left to be claimed over the next week.   The final decision is imminent and that makes your stomach drop just a bit, doesn’t it?

For those of you still sitting on the fence as you compare and contrast Tufts and University X or College Z, here’s my last bit of advice: follow your gut.  Most of you know, deep down, where you want to go but you wrestle with an understandable need to document your decision with facts.  It’s what we do.  It’s geometry redux: you’re working on a proof.

But there’s the impasse: analytical reasoning overlooks your emotions.  You’re a smart kid with proven analytical skills, so I know it feels funny to let your heart guide you on this one.  Your head wants a piece of the action, too.  It says “make a list, weigh the evidence, assess some info!”  But here’s the thing: you already did that.  You identified a set of schools that fit your academic and personal parameters.  You did the analysis.  You weighed the merits.  And you applied to a particular group that matched your interests and aspirations.  If you’re like most of the students we accept each year, you have impressive options.  That’s the straightforward part.

Now it’s time to honor a more personal impulse: which one feels like home?  I can’t offer you any data that will answer that question for you.  Your tastes and reactions are unique.  It’d be like asking someone at Baskin Robbins, “What’s your best flavor?”  “Best” depends on the tongue.

Don’t over-think your decision.  Listen to what your gut is whispering in your ear.  It won’t lie to you.  (And I hope it’s whispering “Tufts!”)

So far, 75 students have deposited since we released Regular Decision outcomes and the pace is quickening as mid-April approaches.  I was a history major but I like numbers, and the sometimes unexpected stories they tell, so I thought it would be interesting to take a peek at the first 14 enrollees this spring. 

I’m not sure if it means anything but here’s what I discovered:

• The first new (potential) Jumbo joined our Facebook group four minutes after we released decisions at 3 p.m. on March 31 (so fast!), and the very first deposit arrived on April 1. (We’re assuming it was not an April Fools prank.)
• The first nine enrollees are women; three are named Sarah.  Remember, that’s the 2^nd-most popular name among accepted students so the crowd of gals named Sarah shows early signs of making a run at the top spot in the enrolled class.  The Michaels better get a move on, as they say, if they hope to retain their top perch.
• Five are Americans of color and two are international students (from Hong Kong and Nigeria, in case you’re curious). 
• Six live in Massachusetts.
• All 14 joined the School of Arts & Sciences.  The first engineer was #15 (so close!).  The group includes three pre-meds, two pairs of bio and econ majors, and single shots at architectural studies, psychology, classics, anthropology, peace & justice studies, Russian and chemistry.  That’s a nice academic rainbow. 
• Twelve submitted an optional essay as part of their Supplement but none were You Tubers. 
• Three posted an 800 on the SAT-Writing, one aced the Critical Reading section and another achieved perfection on the Math portion.  (So did the engineer but I can’t talk about #15 until next year so forget I mentioned him.)
• Two are recruited athletes (sailing and field hockey, both women).

Only 698 to go and the Class of 2014 will be filled!

Tufts will release admission decisions tomorrow afternoon and, with that click of a button, our next freshman class will be 30 days away from completion.   Tufts received 15,437 applications for the 1,275 spots in the Class of 2014, and 24.5 percent of them will receive happy news tomorrow.  (For what it’s worth, that represents our lowest acceptance rate since 2001.) 

As we close out another admissions cycle, here are 14 fun stats about ’14:

1,767 > Number of high schools (from all 50 states, DC, Puerto Rico and 63 countries) represented in the accepted class

431 > Number of accepted students for whom English is a second language

1,821 > Number of applications received on January 1, 2010 (such procrastination…)

22,585 > Percentage increase since 1997 (you were 5…) in the number of applicants with an e-mail address

250 > Percentage increase from last year in the number of applicants from Zimbabwe

9,223,320 > Cumulative SAT-Math score for the applicant pool

1, 2, 3 > Rank order of Michael, Sarah & Alexander as the most common first names among applicants

 56 > Percentage of admitted students who attend a public high school

 144 > Number of applicants from the Southern Hemisphere

 1, 2, 3 > Rank order of Lee, Kim and Chen as the most common last names in the applicant pool

475 > Number of accepted students from California

352 > Number of accepted students who will be the first in their families to attend college

41 > Number of accepted students from China

15 > Number of days the Admissions Committee was in session during March.  Pounds of snacks consumed during those 15 days?  Too many to admit…

Let me be clear: this is not a complaint.  On the contrary, reading season—yes, admissions folk enjoy five seasons per year—is my favorite part of the admissions cycle.  As a former colleague once said, it’s the work of the work.  And I love it.

Reading Season is the time when all the planning and talking and traveling and recruiting come to fruition.  Each file on my desk represents a story to be told, a new person to meet.  And I like people so I like this part of the job, even if the “people” are paper-based (for now).  Of course, Tufts offered a “video essay” option this year (you can check them out on You Tube) so every once in a while the paper yields to a real kid who’s dancing or chatting or juggling on my computer screen, and that’s been an unexpected treat.  But mostly I read. 

My 19 colleagues and I are reading our way through 15,435 applications, the third-largest pool in Tufts’ history.  So pardon us, or at least me, if a blog or two slips out of date.  Our fingers are busy documenting each file and assessing its merits.  We’ll be missing in action for several more weeks: our friends and family will miss us, our eye doctors will scold us, and paper cuts will torment us.  (And I hope you’ve never experienced the searing pain of a paper cut inflicted by a manila-folder!)

If you’re not an admission officer, there’s nothing quite like Reading Season, although I suppose an accountant feels a similar, endless sprint as April 15 approaches.  Reading Season can best be described as 12 straight weeks of final exams. (Why did you groan?)  And as the Class of 2014 takes shape, we’re MIA. 

Stay tuned.  See you in April?

The idea that I would have a seat in the mysterious room where the decisions were made was so exciting.  It felt like I had a pass to a secret place.  And, like everyone else who’s on the outside looking into the admissions process, the rookie version of today’s dean was curious to see and feel the process up close.  My appointment as an assistant director of admissions at a highly selective college gave me that opportunity and I was not disappointed as the Big Day arrived.

Flash forward 20 years.  I chair the selection committee at Tufts.  I am (pick your favorite metaphor) the ringleader or referee or chief justice of a smart, unruly, opinionated, high energy gang of officers who care passionately about their “kids” and want to steer as many of them as possible into the Class of 2014. 

I am the gatekeeper.  Think of me as the troll at the end of the bridge (a la Monty Python) who says “not so fast” or “let’s think about this” or “that feels like a harsh (or soft) reading of the file.”  It’s my job to be judicious and stay dispassionate—which is much, much easier said than done—as our multifaceted pool of applicants works its way through the selection process.  I must focus on “the big picture,” remember the critical elements of the University’s enrollment plan, be practical when my colleagues grow emotionally attached.  Like I said, that’s easier said than done. 

The room itself is just a room, not very fancy.  There’s a large table with ten chairs around it (two committees work simultaneously) and the room is either unbearably hot or too chilly.  (We need a Goldilocks thermostat so we can be “just right.”)  There are baked goods and chocolate-covered espresso beans (the dean’s fave) and assorted snacks to keep us fueled as we march from school to school and consider the candidates.  We read and think and argue and laugh (more than you might expect).   

To gain a seat in the class, an applicant needs a yes vote from two-thirds of the committee, so seven is the magic number.  Happily, most applicants muster a unanimous decision but some do engender divided outcomes, and those are tricky.  Like Congress or “Survivor,” success requires an ability to count votes and see how things are headed before a vote is called.  Sometimes there’s a surprise.  After a heated debate last Thursday, the committee voted 3-7 to defer a student; as the conversation unfolded, I was guessing it was 5-5 or 6-4.  I was wrong.  My swing votes swung the wrong way.  (Yes, I was one of the three votes to admit, which just shows that the dean doesn’t always get what he wants.)

Other cases seem split but suddenly emerge unanimous.  And, after the territory manager made a strong appeal, another applicant stalled one vote shy of the two-thirds majority.  A pen or a piece of popcorn might have been thrown. Yes, Virginia, there’s drama in the committee room.

Committee is a messy, inefficient process but, at Tufts at least, it’s the vital heart of our admissions effort.  It’s where the class gets shaped and develops a voice.  It’s the moment when we can see the new class emerging from the more anonymous applicant pool as stories and perspectives take hold.  And it’s a slice of quasi-democracy in action as 10 officers wrestle with facts and impressions and institutional priorities as we complete our work.

In a few days, this round will be finished and the first seats in the Class of 2014 will be offered.  The committee will retreat to our separate corners for more reading and evaluating before our next session convenes in late January, when we’ll meet a new set of applicants and a new table-full of baked goods…

Bendetson Hall (the Undergraduate Admissions Office) feels like a library during finals.  It’s eerily quiet—save for the occasional shriek from down the hall when an essay tickles my colleague Jen Simons—as we read, and type, and think.  We’re all swimming in the deep end of the Early Decision pool.  (Sorry, bad pun…)

People often ask me, “What stands out as you read?”  Not surprisingly, I suppose, a good essay is invaluable.  A strong voice and a compelling personal narrative go a long way toward advancing a file from “applicant” to “accepted” status.  I read one this morning, a response to our alternate history prompt, and said to myself, “She’s so damned smart.”  I voted to admit her.  We’ll see if the second reader shares my enthusiasm.  Another made me scratch my chin and say “huh?”  That one has a less rosy fate, I suspect.

Reading is my favorite part of the admissions process, “the work of the work” as a former colleague liked to say.  It is.  It’s the moment when all the talking and recruiting and touring gels into an application, and it’s time to consider the file on its merits.  With a pot of green tea next to my pile of files, I dig into the task at hand.  I jiggle my leg while I read; I bite my lip and pull my earlobe.  It’s like I never left 2^nd grade. 

Okay, back to work…  These folders don’t read themselves

So, where do I start?  There are so many possibilities I feel dizzy (and it’s not because I’ve eaten too many Reese’s Peanut Butter cups in the last 48 hours, although I suppose that is a possibility).  In random order, I’ll offer a few naughties and just let it rip:

Myth #1: “Optional” really means “Required.”

Truth: “Optional” sections of an application (like our “infamous Supplement,” as one girl referred to it last month) are not covert opportunities to trip you up.  I kid you not.  If an essay or standardized test or interview is labeled “optional,” there is truth to that blessed adjective.  The college has given you a choice.  Use it or dispose of it as you see fit.  Don’t over-analyze it.  It’s not a trick question, and you won’t be “penalized” if you skip it.  That’s why it’s “optional.”  (It really is a lovely word.)

Myth #2: “Too many people are applying from my high school and we will knock each other out because the college has a quota from my school.”

Truth: While there are usually limits to the number of acceptances a college can extend, especially in the most selective pools, we do not pre-determine a quota for each high school and stick to it.  If the pool from a school is deep and compelling then multiple candidates will be invited into the class.  If it’s not, then the number of acceptances will be low.  These are case by case decisions, not a herd approach.  Similarly, there are no quotas for international students, or people of color, or kids from New Jersey.

Myth #3: “Colleges check Facebook pages.”

Truth: No, we don’t.  Seriously, we don’t look and we don’t want to look.  If this type of inspection would be useful to our decision-making, we would ask you to send us a link to your Facebook page so we could evaluate it; maybe it would be “optional.” But there are enough things for us to study and, frankly, there are some things we should not see.  Facebook is one of them.  (Having said that let me add that Facebook is a public space and, well, sometimes a reflective pause before you post is prudent.)

Myth #4: “The college said it will use my highest test scores but they asked for all my scores so those will secretly be used against me.”

Truth:  Everybody wins when we use your highest scores.  Our computer picks the best individual score on the critical reading, math and writing sections of the SAT, or the respective subjects on the ACT, and those become the scores we see when we read your file.  End of story.

Myth #5: “A coach called me so that means I am a recruited athlete.”

Truth: The coach called you. That means you are someone he or she wants to get to know and you might become a “recruited athlete.”  Proceed carefully and don’t get your hopes up too quickly. A phone call, e-mail or letter of interest from a coach does not mean you are “being recruited.”

Myth #6: “I have to fill in all the lines on the extracurricular section of the Common Application.”

Truth:  Fill in as many lines as necessary to illustrate your involvement outside the classroom.  “More” is not “better” if your participation is light. If you attended a single meeting of the Quidditch Club in 10^th grade, you don’t really need to tell us about it (unless you figured out a way to fly on a broom). Highlight the good stuff; show us where your passion lies.  But don’t feel the need to add random things to the list or embellish a minor club just to fill the space.

Myth #7: “I need financial aid so I can’t (or shouldn’t) apply ED.”

Truth: If a financial aid applicant applies early, he/she does surrender the chance to compare packages in the spring, and that is an important element to consider.  However, at least at Tufts, applying ED does not compromise your eligibility for need-based aid or the amount of the award we will offer you.  In other words, the financial aid award from Tufts will be the same no matter when you apply.  In the (highly) unlikely event that our award does not meet your definition of “need,” you can ask for a reconsideration of the award and we will release you from the binding enrollment agreement if we can not agree on a package.

Since 7 is considered a lucky number, I’ll stop here.

 I visited 12 high schools in two days and 21 over a four-day window.  (I slept really well each night…) I met more than 300 students, mostly seniors in the last leg of the college search but a fair share of juniors popped up as well, early birds getting ready for the journey ahead.

I got lost twice.  I discovered 103.5FM from New York City and “Evacuate the Dance Floor” by Cascada emerged as the anthem of my travel season.  I shook dozens of hands (and bathed myself in Purell because good hygiene is important this year).  CLIF bars powered me through a few itineraries that seemed realistic when I scheduled the appointments but, silly me, I forgot to schedule a time to each lunch… (One day I went five-hours without a pit stop… Do the math.)  As always, my trek through Fairfield County reinforced my deep appreciation for teachers and their ability to offer five periods of lessons each day as well as traveling salespeople who work out of a car. 

In college admissions, “fall” and “travel” are synonymous.  It’s what we do. It’s one of our “seasons.” We hit the road. We disappear from our campuses, say farewell to loved ones, and spread the word. This week, for example, Tufts admission officers are visiting schools in Atlanta, Orange County, Toronto, Baltimore, Hartford, London, Detroit, Phoenix, Miami and Chicago. One is making her way through Bulgaria (Tufts’ first-ever visit!) and Turkey.  That’s a lot of frequent flier miles for a staff of 20 but it’s a key part of the cycle we coordinate: we travel to points near and far to talk about Tufts.  We are road runners, quite literally. 

School visits are our chance to connect (and reconnect) with kids.  Ideally, my stop in the Career Center or guidance office is a chance to make a closing argument, a final opportunity to amplify the ideas and ideals of Tufts to students who have done their homework, visited campus and are mulling their options as the deadline inches closer.  And, sometimes, I introduce the place to students who recently discovered Tufts as an option.  Either way, it’s a valuable opportunity to put a name with a face.  When I read applications from these schools (at Tufts, we travel where we read) it helps me remember the person behind the paper.  Personalities emerged.  I know who they are.  I’m human; I remember.

School visits give travelling admission officers a chance to strengthen our understanding of local factors (perhaps a high school dropped its AP curriculum due to budget cuts, for example), to renew partnerships with guidance and college counselors, and to see an applicant where she lives.  I experienced some lovely campuses and passed through metal detectors on my way into a few schools; those impressions add context to the way I recruit and the way I read. 

And maybe most importantly, school visits are a chance to talk with kids without any adult supervision (guidance counselors notwithstanding), an unfiltered conversation that puts students and their interests or concerns at center stage.  I’ll drive 700 miles to do that.