It's colleges' turn for nail-biting
As accepted students pick and choose, schools roll out perks
They memorize fancy words for the SAT and agonize over algebraic equations. When college interviews come around, they dutifully polish their good shoes and practice winning answers, all in the hope of impressing admissions officers.
But with an acceptance letter in their pocket, students gain the upper hand. Now more than ever in this unpredictable admissions cycle, it's the colleges who must go courting.
Babson College is sending admitted students free music downloads. Springfield College and Suffolk University e-mailed personalized video messages. MIT held a "Campus Preview Weekend" for 1,000 students that featured more than 600 events, and Wentworth Institute of Technology fetes some prospective students with dinner on campus and a play in town.
This April, selective colleges are stepping up their recruiting campaigns, reaching out to accepted students with a renewed creativity and urgency. With students applying to record numbers of colleges, many have the freedom to pick and choose, giving colleges little choice but to coax and cajole as they assemble next fall's class.
"We have four weeks to convince students to fall in love with us," said Ann McDermott, director of admissions at the College of the Holy Cross, which calls many accepted students to congratulate them and has alumni call those who live in their area. "You're looking at talented kids with options, so you can't be passive. If you don't make them feel they are wanted, I think you're dead in the water."
Hoping to stand out from the crowd as they jockey for students before the May 1 decision deadline, colleges say nothing beats the personal touch, particularly from college students themselves.
Brown students join faculty, staff, and alumni in sending out congratulatory e-mails to accepted applicants, and Northeastern University students call high school seniors who have expressed interest in their major. Boston College students and admissions staff recently wrapped up a weeklong campaign to call some 6,000 accepted students.
"There's so much uncertainty this year, all of us are making special efforts to put our best foot forward," said Brown University's dean of admissions, James Miller. "We know the ball is in the students' court."
At Boston University on April 11, about 1,000 accepted students and parents chatted with faculty and administrators, toured the campus, and had lunch in an auditorium decorated in the school's scarlet and white. College officials generally took a laid-back approach, but friendly, well-groomed BU students went on the offensive, chatting up the prospects and their parents about the school's selling points.
In an earnest speech at the luncheon, Charles Pollack, a BU senior, told the audience that his college experience had made him a better person, no sales pitch intended. "I have really been blessed to be here for four years," he said. "I don't regret a single moment, and I don't say that because I . . . feel obligated to."
Colleges also personalize mass mailings, using the latest technology, to catch the eye of prospective students. "This is the way these kids process information," said Marguerite J. Dennis, Suffolk's vice president for enrollment and international programs. "It's not a postcard or a letter or a brochure, it's interactive. We're finding it's much more effective to communicate with them on their own terms."
But other colleges are taking a throwback approach. Wheelock College writes personalized notes on acceptance letters to wish students good luck in their spring track season or the school play. Wellesley College's admissions office recently sent personalized postcards of a newspaper cartoon depicting a young girl wanting to dress up as a National Aeronautics and Space Administration mission commander for Halloween, rather than a princess, noting that a 1983 graduate commanded a space shuttle voyage last year.
And Wellesley students mailed handwritten notes describing their college experience and often strike up friendships with accepted high school seniors.
"In the past year or so, the things that have resonated the most with admitted students is what we might consider the old-fashioned personal touches," said Jennifer Desjarlais, dean of admission at Wellesley. "We're almost taking a step back."
The reason for all the fuss, administrators say, is that college decisions often hinge on seemingly insignificant and indefinable qualities. Any number of gestures - a phone call from a faculty member, a friendly note from a student who hosted an overnight visit, or an invitation from a graduate to a dinner party for accepted students - can be pivotal.
This year, with colleges especially unsure of how many accepted students will enroll because of sweeping changes to financial aid policies among top-tier schools, outreach efforts have taken on added importance. Colleges freely acknowledge they are not above some sweet talking to make students feel loved.
"These students have risen to the top of our selection process, and we don't miss an opportunity to tell them that," said Grant Gosselin, dean of undergraduate admission at Babson. "With the uncertainty out there [around admissions], students are applying to more and more schools. That means they have options, and we have to work hard and try to reach them. We can't just send out decisions and wait for May 1 to arrive."
Echoing comments from other admissions officers, Gosselin said he is open about his recruiting mission, opening events for admitted students by quipping that "the tables have turned."
The honest approach, admissions officers say, is the only way to win over a generation of savvy consumers who can spot a slick sales pitch a mile away.
"They've really adopted a consumer approach to colleges," Karen Schedin, dean of admission at Becker College, said of applicants. "It's kind of like they are buying a car, and they want to test drive all of them. And they know they have a lot of options."
At the Boston University event last week, Carolyn Jeffrey, a junior at BU, strode up to high school senior Ashton Kennedy, a Connecticut resident deciding between BU and Northeastern. Jeffrey broke the ice with some small talk, and soon Kennedy was peppering her with questions about the dorms, campus safety, and places to study. Kennedy, who said she has been inundated with Christmas cards, letters, and phone calls from colleges, walked away impressed with her obvious school spirit. "Oh my God, they are so peppy," she said.
For students who can't make it to campus, colleges will come to them, holding gatherings in living rooms and hotel ballrooms in students' hometowns. For example, Franklin W. Olin College of Engineering in Needham, where parents of current students call parents of accepted students, recently held a large reception for accepted students in Menlo Park, Calif., part of the college's Bay Area pipeline.
Charles Nolan, Olin's vice president for external relations and the dean of admission, said that in addition to all the personal attention, he's not above a personal plea.
"I tell them, 'We've admitted you and we want you,' " he said. " 'My job is in your hands. Do what you can to help me keep it another year.' "
Peter Schworm can be reached at schworm@globe.com.
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