The "helicopter parenting" phenomenon seems to be getting nuttier by the minute and it's easy to harrumph over the latest anecdote about a mother calling the academic dean of a college to ask why her child got a bad grade. As a college counselor at an "elite" private high school I often had to deal with mommies (seems like it's more often mommies than daddies) who wanted to know how their child could get an A instead of an A- so he or she could get into Brown. Or who basically ran the college process while the children lazed about in blissful torpor. These stories tend to validate our feeling that the current generation of college-aged students has become way too pampered for its own good.
Unfortunately for us, Margaret K. Nelson has written an interesting and level-headed book on the topic called Parenting Out of Control: Anxious Parents in Uncertain Times. Rather than gleefully narrating the various misbehaviors of these over-involved parents, she approaches the topic from a sociological perspective. (Nelson is a professor of sociology at Middlebury College in Vermont.) Using class divisions and technological innovation as prisms, she looks at why parents might behave the way they do and provides some clear, if incomplete, insights about why parents these days do the things they do.
Nelson bases her conclusions on a relatively small sampling of individuals she divides into "working class," middle class," and "professional middle class" parents. As a result, her brush paints a rather broad picture of child-rearing practices in each group. She writes that WC and MC parents "are...less interested in intimacy and engagement [with their children] than they are in clear rules of authority within the family." In contrast, the PMC parents she describes have "a lengthy perspective on children's dependency without a clear launching point for a grown child," and "put child rearing front and center: even in the midst of extremely busy lives, they highlight the significance and meaning they find in this activity, and they avoid shortcuts (such as playpens) that could make the job easier."
But more interesting is how Nelson contrasts the WC/MC and PMC views of their children as individuals in a way that puts most of the helicoptering onus on the PMC parents. Less privileged parents, according to Nelson, "insist that by the end of a comparatively short educational career a child should be ready to pick a career, find a job, and begin the next stage of life as a fully formed adult." They "want to encourage their children to grow...But their role involves acceptance of the particularities of their children and does not rest on a view of unlimited potential, of children who can become 'the best.'" Especially in relation to college, WC/MC parents want their children to do something productive, not play around for four years.
In contrast, PMC parents see their children as ongoing projects with unlimited potential. As a result, there's no end to the work of seeing them develop, which is why they insist on being "present" so constantly. For them, college isn't a "vocational training ground," it is a place for personal self-development: "...in lieu of job preparation, elite parents talk about the important opportunities colleges might provide for self-discovery and for gaining self-confidence. Rather than viewing college as a launching pad to independent adulthood, parents see it as a time for their children to acquire the necessary cultural and social capital to be able to seize any opportunities for status that may arise." No wonder my students' parents wanted them to go to Brown and not Tufts!
If you perceive your children as "out the door" when they turn 18, there's no need to keep a continual eye on them. As a parent, you've done your job and what results is what you've got. PMC parents have created a never-ending process that needs continual tweaking and adjusting. They see their children as extensions of themselves and their parenting, and so must always be involved. College is a place to refine their projects in the never-ending drive toward "perfection," whatever form that may take.
Nelson makes the case that technological devices such as baby monitors, security bracelets, and cell phones have changed the ways parents connect with their children, often making them more fearful, not less, and promoting a sense of needing to be continually in touch with their offspring. She notes, however, that PMC parents are less likely to rely on technology to monitor and control their children than are MC/WC parents because of their commitment to molding their children's "potential" and being intimately involved with every detail of their lives. PMC parents make calls, write emails, and so on as a natural extension of their involvement with their children; MC/WC parents are less likely to do so because they see their children as already on their way to independence.
Parenting Out of Control does a good job of delineating some of the possible sources of helicopter parenting even while it remains frustratingly shallow. It relies too heavily on Nelson's small sample and seems to lean too much on stereotypes of privileged versus non-privileged parenting and family life without offering real three-dimensional analysis. However, using class as a way to talk about families' expectations for their children and college is a fresh way to talk about the subject, and readers attuned to the relationship of college attainment to status consciousness will find Parenting a good source for further discussion and observation.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Monday, January 5, 2009
Taming the Testing Dragon
The coming new year for the Chinese is the Year of the Ox, so I'm going to go with that spirit and suggest it's time to tell students applying to college that they can take the ACT or SAT once and that's it. The current discussion about "score choice" and what colleges want versus what the College Board wants them to want versus what ACT is doing and how all the test prep companies figure into all this mess cries out for a Gordian knot solution (sorry to mix cultural references). I've said many times that the admission process is far too complicated, overgrowing students' educations and becoming more important than what they're learning in high school. So, to repeat: Limit students to taking the SAT or ACT once. Period. We'll all be better off.
I know many will shriek at this limitation of students' right to flay themselves in the quest for collegiate Valhalla, but let's think about some of the issues (and for the sake of argument I'll try to limit my own abhorrence of these tests):
Argument: Students should have the right to take the test as many times as they wish and report their best scores to enhance their applications. It's a free country!
Response: Many may see a one-time testing approach as too similar to the European all or nothing tests (and many people still think of the tests as the be-all-and-end-all for college admission). But a test score in the U.S. is not determinative; it can be considered, downplayed, or lauded by any college to whom it is reported. And it doesn't limit where students can apply. Hundreds of institutions don't even use the scores or are score optional, with little effect on the quality of their student bodies. And even those who use scores often downplay them when necessary to enroll athletes, legacies, talented minority students, and so on. In other words, scores are fungible, not fixed; one set of scores or six doesn't really make that much of a difference.
Argument: Students should have the opportunity to get their best scores to indicate their true abilities.
Response: The College Board, which produces the SAT, long ago gave up the myth they themselves originated that the test can't be coached since it was an indicator of innate abilities. It even offers its own prep courses to subvert (sorry, prepare for) the test. And companies like Princeton Review and others, whatever one might think of them, have demonstrated that it is possible to raise scores not by knowing more about geometry or American history, but by knowing how the test is structured. How this adds to a student's academic qualities has yet to be determined. Ironically, students who take the test again and raise their scores significantly can be accused of cheating, and a very high test score coupled with low or mediocre grades can brand an applicant a slug in class. So it's damned if you do, damned if you don't, and whatever "true ability" is is certainly not being measured by the ACT or SAT.
Argument: Taking the test several times is just a good way to get a better score; it's not unfair or anything.
Response: Practice tests already exist for the SAT and the ACT, namely, the PSAT and the PLAN. Administered at students' schools, they come back with detailed explanations of what students got right and wrong and what concepts they need to work on for when they take the test for real. In fact, students can take the PLAN and the PSAT in their sophomore and junior years, without scores being reported anywhere, so they have plenty of time to see what they need to improve when the time comes.
Argument: If students want to take the test multiple times, what's wrong with that?
Response: Well, nothing, really, if you think that going through hours of test prep, anxiety, and craziness, not to mention hundreds if not thousands of dollars somehow are positive educational developments. Testing already crowds out actual academic subjects as early as third grade, and drilling for college entrance exams is the most tedious, boring, and retrograde activity a school can indulge in. No wonder students hate it. Students are already idiotically overtested and as to whether it's always the students' choice to take and retakes the tests, I'd look more closely at parental influence.
Argument: Test prep and multiple testing give students a taste of what's expected of them in college.
Response: I for one wouldn't attend an institution that focused on testing like that as an evaluative measure. Does it introduce concepts to think about, encourage intellectual development, accurately measure what a student knows? No. Testing is something to be gotten through, not embraced. It is intellectually deadening and as welcome as plague. Most students will find that, except for huge institutions with classes of hundreds, they will rarely see SAT-like tests.
Argument: A student can have an "off" day on the one day that the test is given, leading to a "false negative" score.
Response: A student's score is always considered in the context of high school strength and GPA; an "off" day could easily be seen as that in the admission process when so-so scores accompany an otherwise strong record. Scores (as well as every other application element) are subject to the sense and good judgment of the individuals reading applications, so there is every reason to believe that a sense of who's "off" can be developed with a one-test limit even as it is now with multi-test scores being reported.
Argument: Colleges need to be able to put the best scores of their applicants together so they can put together the best profiles possible, so allowing students to take the tests multiple times is to their advantage.
Response: This is a college issue, not a student or educational issue. In my experience we spent much more time talking about students' activities, courses, and achievements than their test scores in committee. One argument is that no college wants to have poorer scores to report than its competitors do. But if everyone has only the one score to report, a deflation will occur across the board and equilibrium should be maintained.
Argument: Multiple scores enable colleges to get the best bond ratings and rankings.
Response: Aside from the insidiousness of these methods of rating colleges, the same principle applies as in the answer above: If all institutions have the same one-test figures, it seems likely that everything will reach an equilibrium that would merely lead to a recalibration of the ratings and the rankings.
Argument: A single test date would put more pressure on students because there would be no "safety valve" if the results weren't good.
Response: Probably, but it would be up to colleges and universities to put the test in a more enlightened context by showing how they use it and where it actually stands in the admission hierarchy. In fact, adopting the one-time test might cause colleges to rethink how they use it because it would be a rawer picture of the test-taker, more "authentic," so to speak. A single date would be intense, but knowing it would all be over afterwards might be liberating. If the date were at the end of junior year, results received in the summer might provide motivation for doing better in courses senior year to make up for a poor score.
There are many reasons to support a one-time only test:
1. The hours and dollars spent on test prep seriously distract from more useful activities like homework and true academic development, whether they're sponsored through schools as classtime sessions or after school. Especially in areas with a high percent of first-generation or poor students, it is critical that time and dollars not be sacrificed for something as ephemeral and uncertain as test prep. I know of one school that has spent nearly $60,000.00 on test prep for students who could have better been served by spending that money on academic enhancement, tutoring, equipment, and so on. A recent article in Harper's magazine (September 2008) documenting a year of test prep in a New York City school is illuminating. Click on this entry's title to go to the article.
2. Test prep as a part of schooling is a kind of regression to the days of rote learning, which has long since been abandoned in this country. It kills motivation, deadens intellectual curiosity, and makes education look like a hoop to jump through rather that an ongoing source of personal development. It makes students and teachers cynical; no good teacher I know will sacrifice a classroom discussion about "Death of a Salesman" for an SAT vocabulary drill. And no student would willingly attend. He may not care for Arthur Miller, either, but at least there's the possibility that something interesting might come up. (Furthermore, it most disadvantages those who can least afford it: First-generation and other underserved students who most need to learn the basics of English, math, and so on to do well in college.)
3. Multiple testing opportunities favor those already privileged; a one-time test date can even the playing field to a certain extent. While privileged students can still afford the books and testing that non-privileged students can't, the one-time test means that what you see is what you get on the other end. Will non-privileged students suffer because they can't afford test prep or the ability to try again? Those students already have extra consideration for their backgrounds and lack of educational support, so test scores will continue to be seen that way. (Remember, test scores have been shown definitiely to have cultural biases.) It will affect privileged students more, because they'll have to live with their scores without being able to tinker with them over and over. (Idea: After adopting the one-test only policy, schools can ask "Estimate how much preparation you received or paid for before the test." The more that's reported, the less credible the test. Fantasy I know, but still...)
4. Multiple testing is a financial bonanza that offers little real improvement in educational environment, siphoning off money from individuals and school systems that could be put to better use. While test prep companies and the College Board get rich coming and going, that money doesn't go to enhancing educational opportunity (although the companies do provide their services pro bono in many circumstances). And schools that can't really afford it are led to chase the ephemara of scores as a way to getting their students into college rather than focusing on building their academic programs.
5. The ability to take the test multiple times fosters the idea that testing is more crucial than it really is. Like Sysiphus, rolling the stone up the hill only to have it roll down again so he has to start all over again, multiple testing really accomplishes very little while creating great strain and anxiety. Nothing gets learned, nothing is accomplished, other more fruitful opportunities are passed up, and in the end, an admission decision can be made in spite of scores as much as because of them. Consistently, according to NACAC, a student's GPA and course strength are the most compelling parts of the application; the scores are really more window dressing. They're easy to look at and mess with; they have acquired a magical quality; and they play into our love of lists and bests/worsts. So while admission officers tend to drool over big scores, they also can see the proverbial "diamonds in the rough" that shine in class without the burnishing of high test scores.
Adopting a one-time only testing policy may be seen as radical, but it would help to simplify and equalize the whole testing universe. Colleges and universities should consider cutting back the testing underbrush while at the same time promoting the importance of academic achievement more forcefully.
I know many will shriek at this limitation of students' right to flay themselves in the quest for collegiate Valhalla, but let's think about some of the issues (and for the sake of argument I'll try to limit my own abhorrence of these tests):
Argument: Students should have the right to take the test as many times as they wish and report their best scores to enhance their applications. It's a free country!
Response: Many may see a one-time testing approach as too similar to the European all or nothing tests (and many people still think of the tests as the be-all-and-end-all for college admission). But a test score in the U.S. is not determinative; it can be considered, downplayed, or lauded by any college to whom it is reported. And it doesn't limit where students can apply. Hundreds of institutions don't even use the scores or are score optional, with little effect on the quality of their student bodies. And even those who use scores often downplay them when necessary to enroll athletes, legacies, talented minority students, and so on. In other words, scores are fungible, not fixed; one set of scores or six doesn't really make that much of a difference.
Argument: Students should have the opportunity to get their best scores to indicate their true abilities.
Response: The College Board, which produces the SAT, long ago gave up the myth they themselves originated that the test can't be coached since it was an indicator of innate abilities. It even offers its own prep courses to subvert (sorry, prepare for) the test. And companies like Princeton Review and others, whatever one might think of them, have demonstrated that it is possible to raise scores not by knowing more about geometry or American history, but by knowing how the test is structured. How this adds to a student's academic qualities has yet to be determined. Ironically, students who take the test again and raise their scores significantly can be accused of cheating, and a very high test score coupled with low or mediocre grades can brand an applicant a slug in class. So it's damned if you do, damned if you don't, and whatever "true ability" is is certainly not being measured by the ACT or SAT.
Argument: Taking the test several times is just a good way to get a better score; it's not unfair or anything.
Response: Practice tests already exist for the SAT and the ACT, namely, the PSAT and the PLAN. Administered at students' schools, they come back with detailed explanations of what students got right and wrong and what concepts they need to work on for when they take the test for real. In fact, students can take the PLAN and the PSAT in their sophomore and junior years, without scores being reported anywhere, so they have plenty of time to see what they need to improve when the time comes.
Argument: If students want to take the test multiple times, what's wrong with that?
Response: Well, nothing, really, if you think that going through hours of test prep, anxiety, and craziness, not to mention hundreds if not thousands of dollars somehow are positive educational developments. Testing already crowds out actual academic subjects as early as third grade, and drilling for college entrance exams is the most tedious, boring, and retrograde activity a school can indulge in. No wonder students hate it. Students are already idiotically overtested and as to whether it's always the students' choice to take and retakes the tests, I'd look more closely at parental influence.
Argument: Test prep and multiple testing give students a taste of what's expected of them in college.
Response: I for one wouldn't attend an institution that focused on testing like that as an evaluative measure. Does it introduce concepts to think about, encourage intellectual development, accurately measure what a student knows? No. Testing is something to be gotten through, not embraced. It is intellectually deadening and as welcome as plague. Most students will find that, except for huge institutions with classes of hundreds, they will rarely see SAT-like tests.
Argument: A student can have an "off" day on the one day that the test is given, leading to a "false negative" score.
Response: A student's score is always considered in the context of high school strength and GPA; an "off" day could easily be seen as that in the admission process when so-so scores accompany an otherwise strong record. Scores (as well as every other application element) are subject to the sense and good judgment of the individuals reading applications, so there is every reason to believe that a sense of who's "off" can be developed with a one-test limit even as it is now with multi-test scores being reported.
Argument: Colleges need to be able to put the best scores of their applicants together so they can put together the best profiles possible, so allowing students to take the tests multiple times is to their advantage.
Response: This is a college issue, not a student or educational issue. In my experience we spent much more time talking about students' activities, courses, and achievements than their test scores in committee. One argument is that no college wants to have poorer scores to report than its competitors do. But if everyone has only the one score to report, a deflation will occur across the board and equilibrium should be maintained.
Argument: Multiple scores enable colleges to get the best bond ratings and rankings.
Response: Aside from the insidiousness of these methods of rating colleges, the same principle applies as in the answer above: If all institutions have the same one-test figures, it seems likely that everything will reach an equilibrium that would merely lead to a recalibration of the ratings and the rankings.
Argument: A single test date would put more pressure on students because there would be no "safety valve" if the results weren't good.
Response: Probably, but it would be up to colleges and universities to put the test in a more enlightened context by showing how they use it and where it actually stands in the admission hierarchy. In fact, adopting the one-time test might cause colleges to rethink how they use it because it would be a rawer picture of the test-taker, more "authentic," so to speak. A single date would be intense, but knowing it would all be over afterwards might be liberating. If the date were at the end of junior year, results received in the summer might provide motivation for doing better in courses senior year to make up for a poor score.
There are many reasons to support a one-time only test:
1. The hours and dollars spent on test prep seriously distract from more useful activities like homework and true academic development, whether they're sponsored through schools as classtime sessions or after school. Especially in areas with a high percent of first-generation or poor students, it is critical that time and dollars not be sacrificed for something as ephemeral and uncertain as test prep. I know of one school that has spent nearly $60,000.00 on test prep for students who could have better been served by spending that money on academic enhancement, tutoring, equipment, and so on. A recent article in Harper's magazine (September 2008) documenting a year of test prep in a New York City school is illuminating. Click on this entry's title to go to the article.
2. Test prep as a part of schooling is a kind of regression to the days of rote learning, which has long since been abandoned in this country. It kills motivation, deadens intellectual curiosity, and makes education look like a hoop to jump through rather that an ongoing source of personal development. It makes students and teachers cynical; no good teacher I know will sacrifice a classroom discussion about "Death of a Salesman" for an SAT vocabulary drill. And no student would willingly attend. He may not care for Arthur Miller, either, but at least there's the possibility that something interesting might come up. (Furthermore, it most disadvantages those who can least afford it: First-generation and other underserved students who most need to learn the basics of English, math, and so on to do well in college.)
3. Multiple testing opportunities favor those already privileged; a one-time test date can even the playing field to a certain extent. While privileged students can still afford the books and testing that non-privileged students can't, the one-time test means that what you see is what you get on the other end. Will non-privileged students suffer because they can't afford test prep or the ability to try again? Those students already have extra consideration for their backgrounds and lack of educational support, so test scores will continue to be seen that way. (Remember, test scores have been shown definitiely to have cultural biases.) It will affect privileged students more, because they'll have to live with their scores without being able to tinker with them over and over. (Idea: After adopting the one-test only policy, schools can ask "Estimate how much preparation you received or paid for before the test." The more that's reported, the less credible the test. Fantasy I know, but still...)
4. Multiple testing is a financial bonanza that offers little real improvement in educational environment, siphoning off money from individuals and school systems that could be put to better use. While test prep companies and the College Board get rich coming and going, that money doesn't go to enhancing educational opportunity (although the companies do provide their services pro bono in many circumstances). And schools that can't really afford it are led to chase the ephemara of scores as a way to getting their students into college rather than focusing on building their academic programs.
5. The ability to take the test multiple times fosters the idea that testing is more crucial than it really is. Like Sysiphus, rolling the stone up the hill only to have it roll down again so he has to start all over again, multiple testing really accomplishes very little while creating great strain and anxiety. Nothing gets learned, nothing is accomplished, other more fruitful opportunities are passed up, and in the end, an admission decision can be made in spite of scores as much as because of them. Consistently, according to NACAC, a student's GPA and course strength are the most compelling parts of the application; the scores are really more window dressing. They're easy to look at and mess with; they have acquired a magical quality; and they play into our love of lists and bests/worsts. So while admission officers tend to drool over big scores, they also can see the proverbial "diamonds in the rough" that shine in class without the burnishing of high test scores.
Adopting a one-time only testing policy may be seen as radical, but it would help to simplify and equalize the whole testing universe. Colleges and universities should consider cutting back the testing underbrush while at the same time promoting the importance of academic achievement more forcefully.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Footsteps in the Hall: The College Admission Process as Existential Crisis
[NOTE: This essay was published in the Journal of College Admission, January, 2008)
The college admission process puts adolescents in a bind: it asks them to observe and evaluate themselves before theyҀve had a chance to develop a consistent sense of who they are. At a time when theyҀve been trying on personalities and exploring the world of adulthood in an effort to establish an identity, theyҀre suddenly asked to manufacture one to the vague yet compelling specifications that colleges impose upon them. They are evaluated, measured and sorted by mysterious strangers, and asked to be ӀauthenticԀ in an entirely inauthentic situation. Just as threatening, they are asked to submit to what Jean-Paul Sartre calls Ӏthe Gaze,Ԁ a pitiless stare that tears them out of themselves and forces them to ӀactԀ instead of Ӏbe.Ԁ As a result, adolescents now go through an existential crisis of identity well before theyҀre ready for it or even realize itҀs happening.
The existential moment may come for most of us in our forties or so. We have enough experience to look back at life and wonder if thereҀs been any purpose to it or if who weҀve become is the person we actually are. Usually married, well into a career, with children and possessions to anchor us, we may face a sudden death, loss of a job, or other crisis that forces us to confront how weҀve defined ourselves. We may feel directionless, hollow, and cynical, unable to hold on to the things we once thought important. The film American Beauty illustrates this condition particularly well. Kevin SpaceyҀs character, Lester Burnham, goes into free fall realizing that, although heҀs done everything according to the rules, heҀs Ӏlost something,Ԁ even though heҀs not sure what it is. He feels his life disintegrating: His marriage is cold, his job banal, and his daughter a stranger to him. The world has become artificial and he sees himself as simply an actor in a particularly bad play, not as a human being. The adolescent struggling with a college application hasnҀt even voted yet, but is being asked to be an actor before having become a fully integrated self.
Role Reversal
In the past, the college admission process was primarily functional and had little to do with identity development. It was simply the mechanism to reach the next step in oneҀs education. Through the seventies and early to mid-80s, even as the number of students applying to and attending college rose significantly, the procedure was relatively simple: Most colleges drew from their geographic regions, most students didnҀt go much farther than 250 miles or so from home, and there was less concern about competition to get into the ӀbestԀ colleges. Teens took their high school courses, took their tests, and took their chances, filing a few applications and going where they were accepted. The idea of planning years ahead so one could get into a particular type of college or even a particular college was little known. An application rose or fell on oneҀs history, the day-to-day decisions and activities pursued in high school. Choices were made on the basis of interests and needs that had to do with the studentҀs immediate concerns. Those choices were ӀauthenticԀ in a Sartrean sense: They were immediate and not calculated, essential to the adolescentҀs Ӏself.Ԁ Students participated fully in activities and developed their personalities and characters as they went along; college followed out of these choices.
The college process today turns adolescent development on its head, creating an existential dilemma well before high school students are prepared to handle it. Rather than resulting from authentic life decisions, it dictates them, forcing students into an ӀinauthenticityԀ that separates them from their own lives. They learn theyҀre supposed to take AP courses, be president of a winning Model U.N. club, and do significant community service, so thatҀs what they do, even if they have no genuine interest in those activities. (One current book even suggests that students who play the violin find time to play in nursing homes so they can look more compassionate.) They become cardboard cutouts and assume that others are as well.
ӀAuthenticityԀ as a Challenge
Up until this point, even in todayҀs competitive environment, adolescents (with many precocious exceptions, of course) may see their lives as confusing and chaotic but not necessarily Ӏinauthentic.Ԁ ThereҀs an immediacy to what they do even if itҀs a short-term commitment. They live essentially and for the moment. As adults we see this when our children do impulsive or reckless things: TheyҀre fully in the moment, not considering the long-term consequences of their behavior. The college application process, however, asks them to reach a conclusion before theyҀve had a chance to have a Ӏbeing.Ԁ TheyҀre asked to define themselves before theyҀre capable of doing so, bringing on a crisis that challenges their sense of who they are. When Lester Burnham is asked by a consultant to write out a job description (read Ӏcollege essayԀ) for himself he realizes his days at the magazine are numbered. Being forced to contemplate himself sends him over the edge. Asked to do so by colleges, adolescents struggle with the same angst and see the same blankness.
The college admission process tears adolescents out of an environment of relative certainty and throws them into a confusing arena that has no clear boundaries. They are suddenly asked to sum up their lives, to construct a consistent personhood they have yet to develop, and to consider themselves in the context of a larger world they have yet to fully understand. In the process they lose the authenticity of simply ӀbeingԀ who they are and become ӀperformersԀ of parts they have not yet fully developed. Like nearly all the characters in American Beauty, they must present artificially constructed lives to the world, rather than their own realities, in order to be ӀsuccessfulԀ: LesterҀs wife Carolyn is a real estate agent who has to psych herself up to meet clients (ӀI will sell this house today!Ԁ) and ӀperformԀ for her biggest rival; Ricky, the boy next door, pretends to be Ӏan upstanding young citizen with a respectable jobԀ so he can carry on his profitable drug dealing; RickyҀs father disguises his attraction to men with a brute military bearing; and so on. Even high school girl Angela (Mina Suvari), who seems in touch with her sexual power and even her reputation as the school ӀslutԀ is only playing a role to disguise her insecurity. (Anecdotally, IҀve noticed that college freshmen are often attracted to the works of Ayn Rand. I used to wonder about that until I realized that RandҀs exaltation of individual identity and fidelity to oneself is the perfect antidote to the Sartrean dilemma.)
The Dilemma of Being Looked At
All of these characters, like our adolescent college applicant, are caught in Ӏthe GazeԀ of others, another element of existential anxiety. Consciousness of the ӀOtherԀ prevents us from having genuine interactions, whether those others are potential home buyers or admission officers. Becoming subject to Ӏthe Gaze,Ԁ of the college admission process, adolescentsҀ ӀpersonhoodԀ is disfigured. No longer able to be Ӏauthentic,Ԁ they create a shell for those Others, becoming ӀobjectsԀ and not authentic persons.
Sartre illustrated this quandary in Being and Nothingness. He describes a man peering intently through a keyhole at some (presumably salacious) activity in the room beyond. His intense curiosity focuses his entire being on what heҀs doing׀he has no consciousness of his ӀselfԀ but simply is that self. For those moments he is entirely ӀauthenticԀ (think of how we feel when we are completely involved in an activity we love). Suddenly, however, the man hears footsteps in the hall. He becomes conscious of another person as well as himself spying on the roomҀs occupants and now sees himself acting as well as actually acting. He is embarrassed, aware of the implications of what heҀs doing, worried about the other personҀs reactions to what heҀs doing, and so on. He stumbles as he rises, straightens his clothes and tries to act ӀnormalԀ but has lost the ability to do so. Even the phrase Ӏtrying to act normalԀ implies that he canҀt really be his normal self. To the inadvertent observer (the Gaze), the man at the keyhole is Ӏacting,Ԁ not Ӏbeing.Ԁ His equilibrium has been upset and he cannot function as Ӏhimself.Ԁ He is torn from his personhood and left in a kind of purgatory of uncertainty.
Looking for the ӀGenuineԀ Applicant
The college admission process has become those footsteps, seriously undermining adolescentsҀ sense of self by demanding that they ӀactԀ instead of Ӏbe.Ԁ Students submit to the Gaze and twist themselves in knots under its power. It causes adolescents (and those with a stake in their success) to forsake their ӀauthenticԀ selves in order to create a persona that will be acceptable to those mysterious observers. This situation gives rise to a particularly poignant irony: Colleges, saying they want ӀgenuineԀ or ӀauthenticԀ students, guarantee that they will get exactly the opposite. The stage is set for the artificially enhanced super-student who feels compelled to do whatҀs necessary to gain admission to a particular school or group of schools instead of doing what engages him and insisting that colleges judge him accordingly. Their lives become ӀconstructedԀ instead of organic, less and less in touch with a reality they can readily recognize. By the time they are accepted to college theyҀre living a life like Lester and Carolyn BurnhamҀs, Ӏan advertisement for ourselves,Ԁ and not a reality.
Holding Yourself Together
High school students thus become ӀinauthenticԀ at an early age, a situation Sartre also calls living in Ӏbad faith.Ԁ They not only have to develop their identities, they have to be aware of themselves doing so. Appeals to Ӏlive in the momentԀ and Ӏenjoy what youҀre doingԀ in order to be accepted by a college fall on deaf ears because they know they need to do certain things and not others to Ӏsucceed.Ԁ Is it any wonder that cynicism and ironic detachment follow? Students have succumbed to the power of the Gaze and in doing so have sacrificed their authentic lives. Worse, adolescents often end up negating their own being and desires to achieve something that may or may not be in their best interests. This is more than just doing what oneҀs parents want, itҀs an active denial of oneҀs one authentic existence. Knowing all this on some level, they become like Lester at forty: cynical, sarcastic, and unable to inhabit themselves fully.
In the process of acting for others rather than being for themselves, adolescents also become dependent upon the Gaze because itҀs what holds them together. Applying to college implies that there is a meaning to what theyҀve done so far in life, yet dependence on the Gaze turns them into people who cannot embrace the freedom to explore, discover, and take chances. They become objects, subservient to the will of others, just as the servant at the keyhole is subservient to the one who discovers him, and therefore unable to truly Ӏbe themselves.Ԁ Lester BurnhamҀs slavish obsession with the adolescent AngelaҀs ӀGazeԀ is an adult case in point: His attraction to her and his consciousness of her consciousness of him permanently disables his ability to act rationally, leading to his death at the end of the film.
The Process and Its Products
Students going through this process think less about authenticity than they do about being accepted and looking good to admission deans. Yet it does several things that are antithetical to healthy adolescent development: It creates a situation where oneҀs ӀselfԀ must be defined before it has been truly developed. It also puts that ӀselfԀ at the mercy of others, forcing the adolescent to create an artificial rather than authentic self, leading to a feeling of acting rather than being.
We wonder why there seem to be more problems on college campuses with binge drinking, casual sex, studying, and relationships in general. While one canҀt blame the college admission process for what is largely part of a social and cultural phenomenon that crosses many boundaries, one can see the whole process as a shock to the system: Adolescents previously fully involved in creating their own being are suddenly asked to create a ӀbeingԀ that can be gazed at before theyҀre ready. This acute self-consciousness, like that of the man at the keyhole, deforms their ability to behave unselfconsciously. They arrive at college not having a sense of themselves as integrated individuals, but as constructs that hold together only as long as they are Ӏseen.Ԁ As a result, they look for ways to assert themselves meaningfully, to fill the emptiness of that construct. Unfortunately, that includes surrendering to the intensities of sex, drinking, drugs, and dangerous ӀextremeԀ behavior, all of which can be seen as attempts to re-experience a time when each moment was unique and for them alone. Thinking again about American Beauty, one can see how the sudden realization of emptiness, of having lived for the Gaze instead of for oneself, might put adolescents on the brink of despair. Deprived of a meaningful life in high school, they try to fill the void and reestablish that meaning, a situation Sartre and Lester Burnham understood all too well.
The college admission process puts adolescents in a bind: it asks them to observe and evaluate themselves before theyҀve had a chance to develop a consistent sense of who they are. At a time when theyҀve been trying on personalities and exploring the world of adulthood in an effort to establish an identity, theyҀre suddenly asked to manufacture one to the vague yet compelling specifications that colleges impose upon them. They are evaluated, measured and sorted by mysterious strangers, and asked to be ӀauthenticԀ in an entirely inauthentic situation. Just as threatening, they are asked to submit to what Jean-Paul Sartre calls Ӏthe Gaze,Ԁ a pitiless stare that tears them out of themselves and forces them to ӀactԀ instead of Ӏbe.Ԁ As a result, adolescents now go through an existential crisis of identity well before theyҀre ready for it or even realize itҀs happening.
The existential moment may come for most of us in our forties or so. We have enough experience to look back at life and wonder if thereҀs been any purpose to it or if who weҀve become is the person we actually are. Usually married, well into a career, with children and possessions to anchor us, we may face a sudden death, loss of a job, or other crisis that forces us to confront how weҀve defined ourselves. We may feel directionless, hollow, and cynical, unable to hold on to the things we once thought important. The film American Beauty illustrates this condition particularly well. Kevin SpaceyҀs character, Lester Burnham, goes into free fall realizing that, although heҀs done everything according to the rules, heҀs Ӏlost something,Ԁ even though heҀs not sure what it is. He feels his life disintegrating: His marriage is cold, his job banal, and his daughter a stranger to him. The world has become artificial and he sees himself as simply an actor in a particularly bad play, not as a human being. The adolescent struggling with a college application hasnҀt even voted yet, but is being asked to be an actor before having become a fully integrated self.
Role Reversal
In the past, the college admission process was primarily functional and had little to do with identity development. It was simply the mechanism to reach the next step in oneҀs education. Through the seventies and early to mid-80s, even as the number of students applying to and attending college rose significantly, the procedure was relatively simple: Most colleges drew from their geographic regions, most students didnҀt go much farther than 250 miles or so from home, and there was less concern about competition to get into the ӀbestԀ colleges. Teens took their high school courses, took their tests, and took their chances, filing a few applications and going where they were accepted. The idea of planning years ahead so one could get into a particular type of college or even a particular college was little known. An application rose or fell on oneҀs history, the day-to-day decisions and activities pursued in high school. Choices were made on the basis of interests and needs that had to do with the studentҀs immediate concerns. Those choices were ӀauthenticԀ in a Sartrean sense: They were immediate and not calculated, essential to the adolescentҀs Ӏself.Ԁ Students participated fully in activities and developed their personalities and characters as they went along; college followed out of these choices.
The college process today turns adolescent development on its head, creating an existential dilemma well before high school students are prepared to handle it. Rather than resulting from authentic life decisions, it dictates them, forcing students into an ӀinauthenticityԀ that separates them from their own lives. They learn theyҀre supposed to take AP courses, be president of a winning Model U.N. club, and do significant community service, so thatҀs what they do, even if they have no genuine interest in those activities. (One current book even suggests that students who play the violin find time to play in nursing homes so they can look more compassionate.) They become cardboard cutouts and assume that others are as well.
ӀAuthenticityԀ as a Challenge
Up until this point, even in todayҀs competitive environment, adolescents (with many precocious exceptions, of course) may see their lives as confusing and chaotic but not necessarily Ӏinauthentic.Ԁ ThereҀs an immediacy to what they do even if itҀs a short-term commitment. They live essentially and for the moment. As adults we see this when our children do impulsive or reckless things: TheyҀre fully in the moment, not considering the long-term consequences of their behavior. The college application process, however, asks them to reach a conclusion before theyҀve had a chance to have a Ӏbeing.Ԁ TheyҀre asked to define themselves before theyҀre capable of doing so, bringing on a crisis that challenges their sense of who they are. When Lester Burnham is asked by a consultant to write out a job description (read Ӏcollege essayԀ) for himself he realizes his days at the magazine are numbered. Being forced to contemplate himself sends him over the edge. Asked to do so by colleges, adolescents struggle with the same angst and see the same blankness.
The college admission process tears adolescents out of an environment of relative certainty and throws them into a confusing arena that has no clear boundaries. They are suddenly asked to sum up their lives, to construct a consistent personhood they have yet to develop, and to consider themselves in the context of a larger world they have yet to fully understand. In the process they lose the authenticity of simply ӀbeingԀ who they are and become ӀperformersԀ of parts they have not yet fully developed. Like nearly all the characters in American Beauty, they must present artificially constructed lives to the world, rather than their own realities, in order to be ӀsuccessfulԀ: LesterҀs wife Carolyn is a real estate agent who has to psych herself up to meet clients (ӀI will sell this house today!Ԁ) and ӀperformԀ for her biggest rival; Ricky, the boy next door, pretends to be Ӏan upstanding young citizen with a respectable jobԀ so he can carry on his profitable drug dealing; RickyҀs father disguises his attraction to men with a brute military bearing; and so on. Even high school girl Angela (Mina Suvari), who seems in touch with her sexual power and even her reputation as the school ӀslutԀ is only playing a role to disguise her insecurity. (Anecdotally, IҀve noticed that college freshmen are often attracted to the works of Ayn Rand. I used to wonder about that until I realized that RandҀs exaltation of individual identity and fidelity to oneself is the perfect antidote to the Sartrean dilemma.)
The Dilemma of Being Looked At
All of these characters, like our adolescent college applicant, are caught in Ӏthe GazeԀ of others, another element of existential anxiety. Consciousness of the ӀOtherԀ prevents us from having genuine interactions, whether those others are potential home buyers or admission officers. Becoming subject to Ӏthe Gaze,Ԁ of the college admission process, adolescentsҀ ӀpersonhoodԀ is disfigured. No longer able to be Ӏauthentic,Ԁ they create a shell for those Others, becoming ӀobjectsԀ and not authentic persons.
Sartre illustrated this quandary in Being and Nothingness. He describes a man peering intently through a keyhole at some (presumably salacious) activity in the room beyond. His intense curiosity focuses his entire being on what heҀs doing׀he has no consciousness of his ӀselfԀ but simply is that self. For those moments he is entirely ӀauthenticԀ (think of how we feel when we are completely involved in an activity we love). Suddenly, however, the man hears footsteps in the hall. He becomes conscious of another person as well as himself spying on the roomҀs occupants and now sees himself acting as well as actually acting. He is embarrassed, aware of the implications of what heҀs doing, worried about the other personҀs reactions to what heҀs doing, and so on. He stumbles as he rises, straightens his clothes and tries to act ӀnormalԀ but has lost the ability to do so. Even the phrase Ӏtrying to act normalԀ implies that he canҀt really be his normal self. To the inadvertent observer (the Gaze), the man at the keyhole is Ӏacting,Ԁ not Ӏbeing.Ԁ His equilibrium has been upset and he cannot function as Ӏhimself.Ԁ He is torn from his personhood and left in a kind of purgatory of uncertainty.
Looking for the ӀGenuineԀ Applicant
The college admission process has become those footsteps, seriously undermining adolescentsҀ sense of self by demanding that they ӀactԀ instead of Ӏbe.Ԁ Students submit to the Gaze and twist themselves in knots under its power. It causes adolescents (and those with a stake in their success) to forsake their ӀauthenticԀ selves in order to create a persona that will be acceptable to those mysterious observers. This situation gives rise to a particularly poignant irony: Colleges, saying they want ӀgenuineԀ or ӀauthenticԀ students, guarantee that they will get exactly the opposite. The stage is set for the artificially enhanced super-student who feels compelled to do whatҀs necessary to gain admission to a particular school or group of schools instead of doing what engages him and insisting that colleges judge him accordingly. Their lives become ӀconstructedԀ instead of organic, less and less in touch with a reality they can readily recognize. By the time they are accepted to college theyҀre living a life like Lester and Carolyn BurnhamҀs, Ӏan advertisement for ourselves,Ԁ and not a reality.
Holding Yourself Together
High school students thus become ӀinauthenticԀ at an early age, a situation Sartre also calls living in Ӏbad faith.Ԁ They not only have to develop their identities, they have to be aware of themselves doing so. Appeals to Ӏlive in the momentԀ and Ӏenjoy what youҀre doingԀ in order to be accepted by a college fall on deaf ears because they know they need to do certain things and not others to Ӏsucceed.Ԁ Is it any wonder that cynicism and ironic detachment follow? Students have succumbed to the power of the Gaze and in doing so have sacrificed their authentic lives. Worse, adolescents often end up negating their own being and desires to achieve something that may or may not be in their best interests. This is more than just doing what oneҀs parents want, itҀs an active denial of oneҀs one authentic existence. Knowing all this on some level, they become like Lester at forty: cynical, sarcastic, and unable to inhabit themselves fully.
In the process of acting for others rather than being for themselves, adolescents also become dependent upon the Gaze because itҀs what holds them together. Applying to college implies that there is a meaning to what theyҀve done so far in life, yet dependence on the Gaze turns them into people who cannot embrace the freedom to explore, discover, and take chances. They become objects, subservient to the will of others, just as the servant at the keyhole is subservient to the one who discovers him, and therefore unable to truly Ӏbe themselves.Ԁ Lester BurnhamҀs slavish obsession with the adolescent AngelaҀs ӀGazeԀ is an adult case in point: His attraction to her and his consciousness of her consciousness of him permanently disables his ability to act rationally, leading to his death at the end of the film.
The Process and Its Products
Students going through this process think less about authenticity than they do about being accepted and looking good to admission deans. Yet it does several things that are antithetical to healthy adolescent development: It creates a situation where oneҀs ӀselfԀ must be defined before it has been truly developed. It also puts that ӀselfԀ at the mercy of others, forcing the adolescent to create an artificial rather than authentic self, leading to a feeling of acting rather than being.
We wonder why there seem to be more problems on college campuses with binge drinking, casual sex, studying, and relationships in general. While one canҀt blame the college admission process for what is largely part of a social and cultural phenomenon that crosses many boundaries, one can see the whole process as a shock to the system: Adolescents previously fully involved in creating their own being are suddenly asked to create a ӀbeingԀ that can be gazed at before theyҀre ready. This acute self-consciousness, like that of the man at the keyhole, deforms their ability to behave unselfconsciously. They arrive at college not having a sense of themselves as integrated individuals, but as constructs that hold together only as long as they are Ӏseen.Ԁ As a result, they look for ways to assert themselves meaningfully, to fill the emptiness of that construct. Unfortunately, that includes surrendering to the intensities of sex, drinking, drugs, and dangerous ӀextremeԀ behavior, all of which can be seen as attempts to re-experience a time when each moment was unique and for them alone. Thinking again about American Beauty, one can see how the sudden realization of emptiness, of having lived for the Gaze instead of for oneself, might put adolescents on the brink of despair. Deprived of a meaningful life in high school, they try to fill the void and reestablish that meaning, a situation Sartre and Lester Burnham understood all too well.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
What Courses Should I Take?
The question came up often when I was an admission officer and even more when I was a high school college counselor: "What courses do I need to take to get into college?" The variant of this question is, "Is it better to take AP and honors courses and get Bs or lower level courses and get As?" Every college representative has the same answer(s): Take the most challenging courses you can and do your best in them; we'd like to see you take AP courses and get As. (Cue courtesy laughs...)
As far as they go, these answers are truthful. Colleges want to see that students are challenging themselves and demonstrating how serious they are about their academics. This is really true for every school of whatever "ranking." No college wants to have layabouts on campus just taking up space in class, if they decide to attend at all. But there's more underlying those questions that complicates the answers and muddies the motivations of the questioners.
Most of the time, the courses questions come as much from parents as from students, and what they're really asking is, "What do I (or my child) have to do to get into YOUR college?" It's a question that tries to suss out the secret formula that will ensure entry into a particular college, not to just any college. In the world of strategic planning, it takes every ounce of data to put together a (hopefully) unassailable application to the Oz college.
Clearly, the jokey get-an-A-in-AP answer doesn't really cut it, nor should it. The cruel fact is that a student can fit a college's profile to a T or even better and still not be accepted for any number of reasons. Those reasons may not even have anything to do with academics. So the search for an answer to these course questions is always futile. Any answer you get begs the question and leaves you no more in the know than before.
These questions also betray a stunning misunderstanding of academic work, seeing it as simply a stepping stone to college, rather than an activity that may have intrinsic value. This attitude degrades a student's high school performance, no matter how good it is, and deflates even the best student's sense of worth. Trying to connect taking certain courses with admission to a particular school turns the whole enterprise into a scramble for position as you claw your way up the ladder of "success." It also encourages that utilitarian thinking to persist through college: Taking only the courses necessary for a good grade or for the best overall GPA.
Notice that I said admission to a particular school in the preceding paragraph. Going about things this way is a virtual guarantee of failure and frustration. However, if you can let go of the desire or need or obsession to attend a specific institution, you can immediately breathe more easily and go about your work with a lighter heart and a less worried mind. If you simply do your best where you are, all the while striving to challenge yourself and improve, you will actually have plenty of colleges to choose from and you'll be more satisfied in the long run. If you're willing to attend any school that's appropriate for you and that you believe will help you develop your talents, then you can relax and focus on the present, not on some uncontrollable future. Students I've worked with who have adopted this attitude have been immeasurably happier than those who stake their performances on getting into Oz College. Ironically, getting in often leaves those latter students feeling empty and dissipated, while the former wind up confident and happy, knowing that they'll be able to take advantage of any opportunities that come their ways.
I've often said (not to my former audience of insecure, status-anxious, controlling parents) that the best way to deal with college admission is to forget about it. Taking a Zen-like approach really makes more sense than agonizing over every detail scheming to get into the "right" school. Live in the moment, enjoy your activities, don't do anything you don't feel committed to, and ask colleges to accept you as you are, not as you think they want you to be. That makes a lot more sense than stretching yourself out on the Procrustean bed of college profiles. Take the AP course if you want the challenge! So what if you get a B or even a C! Maybe you'll realize how much there is to learn and want to go further next time. There are plenty of colleges out there who will support you in your search.
As far as they go, these answers are truthful. Colleges want to see that students are challenging themselves and demonstrating how serious they are about their academics. This is really true for every school of whatever "ranking." No college wants to have layabouts on campus just taking up space in class, if they decide to attend at all. But there's more underlying those questions that complicates the answers and muddies the motivations of the questioners.
Most of the time, the courses questions come as much from parents as from students, and what they're really asking is, "What do I (or my child) have to do to get into YOUR college?" It's a question that tries to suss out the secret formula that will ensure entry into a particular college, not to just any college. In the world of strategic planning, it takes every ounce of data to put together a (hopefully) unassailable application to the Oz college.
Clearly, the jokey get-an-A-in-AP answer doesn't really cut it, nor should it. The cruel fact is that a student can fit a college's profile to a T or even better and still not be accepted for any number of reasons. Those reasons may not even have anything to do with academics. So the search for an answer to these course questions is always futile. Any answer you get begs the question and leaves you no more in the know than before.
These questions also betray a stunning misunderstanding of academic work, seeing it as simply a stepping stone to college, rather than an activity that may have intrinsic value. This attitude degrades a student's high school performance, no matter how good it is, and deflates even the best student's sense of worth. Trying to connect taking certain courses with admission to a particular school turns the whole enterprise into a scramble for position as you claw your way up the ladder of "success." It also encourages that utilitarian thinking to persist through college: Taking only the courses necessary for a good grade or for the best overall GPA.
Notice that I said admission to a particular school in the preceding paragraph. Going about things this way is a virtual guarantee of failure and frustration. However, if you can let go of the desire or need or obsession to attend a specific institution, you can immediately breathe more easily and go about your work with a lighter heart and a less worried mind. If you simply do your best where you are, all the while striving to challenge yourself and improve, you will actually have plenty of colleges to choose from and you'll be more satisfied in the long run. If you're willing to attend any school that's appropriate for you and that you believe will help you develop your talents, then you can relax and focus on the present, not on some uncontrollable future. Students I've worked with who have adopted this attitude have been immeasurably happier than those who stake their performances on getting into Oz College. Ironically, getting in often leaves those latter students feeling empty and dissipated, while the former wind up confident and happy, knowing that they'll be able to take advantage of any opportunities that come their ways.
I've often said (not to my former audience of insecure, status-anxious, controlling parents) that the best way to deal with college admission is to forget about it. Taking a Zen-like approach really makes more sense than agonizing over every detail scheming to get into the "right" school. Live in the moment, enjoy your activities, don't do anything you don't feel committed to, and ask colleges to accept you as you are, not as you think they want you to be. That makes a lot more sense than stretching yourself out on the Procrustean bed of college profiles. Take the AP course if you want the challenge! So what if you get a B or even a C! Maybe you'll realize how much there is to learn and want to go further next time. There are plenty of colleges out there who will support you in your search.
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