The Vandy Admissions Blog

Thom October 16th, 2009

The poet bard Avril Lavigne was whining a tune about being complicated as I turned in the rental car this morning.  It is rare that I 1) make a habit of tuning in stations that would play Avril’s songs and 2) think much about said songs when I do.  It was that 5 minute gap between disconnecting the mp3 player and ditching the rented Prius.  I’m sitting there waiting for the attendant to check my mileage and thinking about a curious series of questions I fielded this past week:

1. “I’m not sure what I want to major in, will that hurt me in the admissions process?” (answer = no)
2.  ”I could ask my company to defer some of my compensation, should I do that to better my chances of obtaining financial aid?” (answer = no, what will you do, defer it for four years?)
3. “I’m a sophomore, and my family’s worried that they can’t afford to send me abroad this summer, but I heard that colleges really like that, what should I do?” (answer = have a great experience doing something else you’ll enjoy and let colleges sort it out)

It’s true, Vanderbilt’s applications have grown (+73% in five years).  A natural reaction is to try and find some way to stand out in the crowd.  But for us, at the heart of the holistic review is an understanding of you - your past accomplishments, what you care about, and what drives your curiosities.  In each of these things - simplicity is a supreme virtue.  Consider the following example:

Ask yourself the question “Do I need a pan flute?”  Use the following chart to answer the question.  

Source: toothpastefordinner.com

Print this and put it above the space you use to work on your applications.  The flow chart is good - the flow chart is wise - the flow chart is simple.

Simplicity in your extracurriculars: spell it out

• No acronyms - OK, we think we know what the BFF club is, but go ahead and humor us.
• The reason we like the Common App’s extracurricular section is because it limits you to a certain number of activities.  Listing your most influential activities there is expected (again, simple I know, but you’d be surprised how many times we learn about that officer position at Girl’s State from the guidance counselor, not from the student).
• A resume is fine, but not expected.  You can include one if you would like to list more activities than the Common App will allow.

Simplicity in you essay: get to the point

• True, there is no desired length, but please, no long walks in the desert.
• Your essay doesn’t have to be a novel topic, or oddly formatted to stick out.  Some of the best essays I’ve read have been about the family pet, or a favorite room in the house, but they were expertly written.

 Simplicity in your letters of recommendation: no surprises

• Don’t default to the teachers in whose classes you received the best grade.  Instead, pick the teachers who know your work ethic and your classroom personality the best.
• Make sure you feel reasonably sure what your recommenders will write about you.  I always scratch my head when I read luke warm recommendations.  “How did the student misjudge that one?” I ask.

• Application Process , Common App , File Reading Explained , Scholarships and Financial Aid , Study Abroad , The College Essay
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Brad March 24th, 2009

 Committee has concluded. Decisions have been made. File Checking continues. As you can see from the photos, we are mighty close to mailing day which is slated for Thursday. Stay tuned to the Vandy Admissions Blog for more updates over the coming days.

 Now, without further ado, I give you photos of files, shelves and carts! Enjoy.

This is Kathy's Kart (intentionally misspelled) where final decisions are entered. It too is like a ghost town.

Decision checkers soldier on. 2009 marks our first ever use of that top shelf. Short people like me protest.

 

Brad’s first read basket is totally empty.

 

Data Entry Shelf. It too is empty.

 

• File Reading Explained
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Thom March 19th, 2009

There are things in this world that are perceived to be more fascinating than they really are: haggis, turkey bowling, Dancing with the Stars, that game where you spin around on a bat 10 times and wobble toward the finish line - oh, and admissions committees.  For the past two weeks I, along with my fellow Associate Director and Director of Admissions at Vanderbilt, have reviewed the decisions of hundreds of individual students all across the country.  Think of a meeting that lasts 80+ hours long.  Yes, it is that fascinating.

Here’s how it works:

• Each officer brings in a bundle of applications, which at this point have been first read and second read.  Nearly all of them have already been “decisioned” (as we’ve talked before on this blog) and the officer is proposing a decision change.
• In the picture above you see a laptop connected to a monitor.  It displays all 19,300 applications we have received this year, broken out by high school (all 928 pages of them).  It is useful as we progress through each region to view a student presented in committee in the broader context of his or her high school.  The computer is also clutch for hunting down mundane yet (in the moment) pressing matters such as checking the lyrics to Billy Joel’s Allentown in between Eastern PA apps.   Or “How do you pronounce Nacogdoches (TX) and how is it different than Natchitoches (LA)?”   By the way, it’s Knack-a-Doe-Shuss and Knack-a-Tesh respectively.  Ahh Google.
• When there is an individual applicant that needs discussing, the officer presenting in committee will place a summary sheet of that applicant’s grades, test scores (and a ton more)  in the middle of the committee table and begins describing the applicant.  The officer keeps the rest of the file (as you see in the picture) drawing out snippets of the essay, the eca’s, the recs, etc.
• Most of our conversations center along the faultlines between an admit and a waitlist, although we sometimes discuss when it would be best to waitlist a student or simply let them go.  We do not want to be placing students on a waitlist who would never stand a chance of coming off of it.  After the conversation/debate ensues, a decision is rendered.

Today is the final day of committee and decision checking started yesterday.  Decision checking is where we check each file to make sure the decision is recorded in our system correctly.  Letter checking then takes place to make sure that Tim from Toledo doesn’t get Tina from Tacoma’s decision letter.  If all goes like we think it will, letters will be in the mail a week from today.  Stay tuned.

• Admissions Committee , File Reading Explained , Waitlist
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Brad February 24th, 2009

Nashville has plenty of culinary choices. But there is one type of food which is distinctive to Music City: Hot Chicken.

Hot Chicken is southern-style pan-fried chicken cooked in a cast-iron skillet. There is, however, one twist. The chicken is breaded in a super-secret blend of spices which give the chicken its…hot. And trust me, it is spicy. Dangerous even.

The main purveyor of this delight is called Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack. Former Mayor Bill Purcell declared it his favorite restaurant and legend has it that one could garner political favor by stepping up from the milder varieties. The truth is, that I frequently crave Prince’s. Eating it on Tuesday can guarantee that you’ll want it on Wednesday. Fortunately for me, I am eating Prince’s tomorrow. After all it’s a Data Day tradition.

So what are data days? Well, you’re about to find out. Because as much as I’d like to use this blog to promote Hot Chicken, it’s really not the point.

Data Days are the days where we evaluate the overall depth, quality and diversity of our applicant pool just before starting admissions committee.  There are three per year, one for each of the Early Decision rounds, and one for Regular Decision. Thom alluded earlier to the admission officer deadline by which all applications must be first and second read. That date was last Wednesday. Since then, our support staff have been frantically entering decisions (admit, deny, waitlist, or committee)  into our database so we can have a complete look at the pool by Data Day.

Then, using some fancy schmancy reporting tools (we actually use Business Objects, a French data solutions package) the admissions committee will answer some critical questions:

How many students should be admitted?

This number is calculated by taking the number of spots in the first year class and subtracting the total number already admitted during Early Decision. Then, using a yield projection for Regular Decision we multiply to account for students who are admitted but will not choose to attend. From this number we subtract the regular decision students who have already been admitted or will be shortly. The only students in this group are MOSAIC invitees, Scholarship Finalists (Ingram, Cornelius Vanderbilt and Chancellor’s) and recruited athletes.

The final number will be the total number of admissions letters that leave our office on mailing day. You can try to guess the number, but we do not release it publicly. Remember that we keep it intentionally low  to prevent over enrollment. Then we admit from the waiting list to ensure the porridge is just right.

2. How many students can be heard at committee?

An easy calculation. We average about 10 application discussions in a committee hour. With three committees running 6-8 hours every day, five or six days each week  for the next month. According to Amy, our committee guru, we have 330 hours scheduled but may need more or less depending on the answer to the next question.

3. What is the threshold by which any student should gain admission?

Ideally any application that reaches committee will include a compelling discussion and the full spectrum of decision options. Although we love hearing about the incredible, bizarre, hilarious and remarkable things that prospective Vanderbilt students accomplish, it is not useful to spend more time on students who are clearly admissible.

On Data Days we take a statistical snapshot (compiled from the espresso-fueled months of reading) and assume that we can admit most qualified applicants in the highest end of our pool. This process is known in our office as “Commando.”  The origins of the term are hazy, but if I had my guess it dates back to 1645 when Alan Commando, the former Dean of Oxford decided to admit everyone at once. A carnival was subsequently thrown in his honor.

At the conclusion of Data Days, the entire staff receives an email with “Commando Guidelines.” Any applicant who meets the guidelines is gathered, re-read and barring any concerns, summarily admitted. Remember that every last application has been reviewed in full (twice in fact), received hand-written comments, and a decision recommendation. 

The remaining applications are slated for committee review where we will spend the coming weeks discussing everything from extra curricular involvement to grades to curriculum to that essay describing that time you fell offstage at your piano recital.

To a geek like me, Data Days are like Magic Eye posters. For months I’ve closely examined the applicants from Maryland (except Montgomery and Prince George’s counties), Minnesota, Wisconsin, Idaho, Washington, Oregon and Alaska. Now I am able to inch backward and see how those students fit into the larger group considered for Fall 2009.  Now it’s time for some Hot Chicken.

Mmm...Hot Chicken

• Admissions Committee , Application Process , File Reading Explained , Uncategorized
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Thom February 18th, 2009

A wonderful article appears this week in the Chronicle of Higher Education’s Chronicle Review by W. A. Pannapacker of Hope College.  In it, Pannapacker portrays the well known genius of Leonardo da Vinci set against the lesser known backdrop of growing biographical evidence that he was a chronic procrastinator.  Amid the volumes of lauded works that constitute a considerable portion of the Western world’s artistic, scientific, and industrial traditions lay a bevy of promised yet uncompleted projects, false starts, and abandoned ideas.  If his biography was a high school transcript, it would be peppered with “I’s” and “W’s.”  I wonder if da Vinci himself were charged with constructing the intellectual pedestal upon which he stands, if the  monument itself would be nothing but a half-carved stone slab.

This is probably the best news I’ve received in some time.   For me, genius seems perpetually delayed and happens mostly when I’m not looking.  It appears when I’m not trying to make my son laugh, only trying to make pancakes on a Saturday morning when the egg breaks wide open on the side of the bowl and counter, sending him into a ten-minute hysterical fit of chuckling.

Still, it makes me think about the admissions decisions we make (what else?) and how we interpret this “conflict between unlimited aspiration and the acknowledgment of human limitation,” as Pannapacker puts it.  We see this sometimes in our office in an applicant who seems to have all the intellectual horsepower, but can’t get the wheels in motion in class, at least not consistently.  This is where the rubber meets the road (apologies for the stretched metaphor) for an admissions committee, when we must project intangible promise from tangible accomplishments of an applicant’s past.  Though we try, can an admissions process ever recognize pure genius, as Pannapacker describes it?  Are we expecting it to emerge “fully formed,” asking unconventional brilliance to be depicted conventionally -  in a single-spaced, 12-point Times New Roman font resume no less?

• Advice for Parents , File Reading Explained , Preparing for College
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