Bruce Poch, who has worked at institutions that accept the Common Application since its inception in the mid-1970s, was appointed dean of admissions at Pomona College in Claremont, Calif., in 1987. Since 1995, he has served as the college’s vice president and dean of admissions, a position he will leave at the end of December.
I have worked with the Common Application as an admissions dean since its earliest days, when a mere 28 colleges were members of the organization.
Let’s be clear: the glitch described in a Times article on Thursday does exist, and it is a headache both for students and for colleges — which actually do pay attention to the details of an essay or activities list. There is no excuse for the problem to persist, “common” as it is. It can and should be fixed, not tolerated, and Common Application members should push very, very hard for the repair or move to identify a new service provider.
Application forms shouldn’t add stress to the admission process. (Perhaps apart from writing those essays!)
We know that efforts to make things easier in all things technologically related have not always had the desired result. Anyone who has dealt with the limits of Web forms and standardization, even when filling in an address for shipping, finds that these truncation issues crop up in a world of unintended consequences. We get frustrated.
Fundamentally, the Common Application may have grown too big and too clumsy in its maturity, and in its urge to grow to become even more common. In the process, it has drawn in members that have, because of volume, had much influence on the development of application forms and formats.
A year ago, standardization required that Taiwan be identified in the Common Application as a province of China, not as “Taiwan, Republic of China.” That “unfixable”
designation — and politically problematic label and drop-down box — was fixed within weeks.
The simple beginnings of the Common Application involved filling out the form by hand or typewriter and providing photocopies to the smallish number of colleges (and at that time, only selective liberal arts colleges) that participated in the program. It was a good and simple idea.
Then the Web and technology advanced (sort of). Universities joined the program and insisted upon standardized field lengths, and drop-down box definitions for parent jobs, degrees and even individual extracurricular activities. In the process, the push to “common-ness” erased more and more individual student expression.
The tyranny of data systems was making the applicants, rather than the applications, common. Some admissions officers worried that we were losing some important intangibles. But colleges and universities could upload the standard data more easily into unforgiving databases.
Many colleges and universities moved to paperless or semi-paperless processes, and this does have the positive effect of clearing fewer forests. But it may be too easy for students to apply to too many colleges, except for the speed bump of supplements.
Even there, the Common Application has moved to push more rules about what may be included in the supplements particular to individual colleges, as the nonprofit association that oversees the form morphed into a near monopoly and regulatory agency, sometimes limiting colleges from using those things individual institutions may deem important to their communities and considerations.
Those supplements and their length often raise objections from secondary school counselors, students and parents, yet colleges use them to break through all that standardization to see a real and whole person.
The convergence of the Common App technology with other products has become interesting in its reflection of the “corporatization” of the admissions process.
Hobsons, the developer of the “back end” technology that drives the Common Application, also created the back end for Naviance, a records system used in many secondary schools. Hobsons maintains, with that information, proprietary marketing tools it sells to colleges and universities to develop inquiry and applicant pools. Recently, it acquired (and now operates) College Confidential, a Web site where students and parents exchange all sorts of information and cross-talk about individual colleges or the admission process.
A quick link from Naviance to the College Confidential site to individual colleges makes all this integration easy, if problematic. It makes some seasoned admissions deans grind their teeth with frustration about the integration of these tools and services in a way that doesn’t necessarily serve either students or institutions fully.
On the other side of the equation, as a writer of recommendations, I too have suffered the frustration of truncation on forms created not only by Hobsons but also by Embark and ApplyYourself for graduate and professional schools, and for Fulbright Fellowship applications.
I find myself spending more time cutting than writing, and the remains of the comments are sometimes so choppy as to make me seem downright inarticulate, writing in bullet points rather than providing narrative.
Something human is lost in translation. That’s a point I remember with sympathy as I read applications from undergraduate candidates whose work has clearly been abbreviated, sometimes midsentence.
On the other hand, how much should a reader have to fill in with imagination?
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