The Sorting Hat

That organic chemistry makes more sociology majors than it does doctors is well known. Less obvious, is that colleges who claim that “92% of our pre-medical students are admitted to medical school!” are not quite telling the whole story. The 92 % figure may be accurate, but what happened to those bright eyed first-year students who weren’t counted, the ones who “changed their minds” about studying medicine? Had they applied to medical school-with their B+ averages, they would not have been among the 92%. Medical schools look beyond A students as often as the NBA plays sub-six footers. It happens; but don’t mortgage the farm.

The other admissions issue, of course, is who the successful applicants were to begin with. Brilliant, motivated, emotionally intelligent 18 year-olds with immaculate study skills have a greater likelihood of ending up in operating rooms just as they previously had a predilection for appearing in “top” colleges. To hint that their (admittedly wonderful) undergraduate educations are completely responsible for these kids running the O.R. is akin to believing that incarceration is what causes released prisoners to be unable to land jobs as CEOs. The fact is that those college students had everything on the ball to begin with. And the felons, unfortunately, did not.

What intrigues me lately is how far back the sorting process goes. As middle-schoolers, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all end up in Gryffindor. No muggles allowed. My colleagues in admissions have had the luxury of denying those applicants who “wouldn’t fit it,” a euphemism for kids who don’t have the horses, every since pre-school.

It is no wonder parents don’t laugh at my observation regarding an “APGAR preparation seminar.” It is no surprise that expectant parents play music for their developing embryos. Alcohol harms fetuses, anxious parents argue, shouldn’t music help them? (Answer: no, playing music to your unborn progeny does not make a difference post-partum. Anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something or doesn’t understand the research.)

Admissions officers at expensive private elementary schools have had the luxury of picking the most likely to succeed from among baskets of lovely five-year-olds. The best of the admitted cherubs who dodge the odd pitfall–video game and drug addiction, overbearing parents–subsequently trot off toward their surgical residencies.

The change that’s coming is in the demographics and economics. Only a few selective schools at any level are going to remain unravaged by the reality that private day schools and boarding schools used to be affordable for a larger percentage of families. Unlike colleges, where comfortable endowments allow young people from modest backgrounds to attend, boarding schools are more reliant on tuition. Previously, private day and traditional boarding school could focus on educating strong students from families who could write checks. Now the mission statements of these schools are being rewritten to include phrases such as “environment that celebrates acceptance,” “each student’s success,” and “holistic approach.” That’s a long way from “superior academics,” “scholarly excellence,” and “competitive sports teams.”

Colleges are changing their marketing as well. Schools whose admissions offices used to send a catalog replete with course descriptions of differential equations and Advanced Sanskrit are now replacing courses in Neurophysiology with–in Gary Trudeau’s wonderful description–“Our Friend the Beaver.” Admission brochures of 40 years ago, stern black and white affairs emphasizing academic rigor have been replaced with websites bursting with videos of exuberant students beaming at sporting events and social activities.

Needless to say, this author is wildly in favor of schools meeting students where they are and helping them to achieve more than they ever thought possible. A 2:30 marathoner focuses or running 2:20. A 4:30 marathoner devotes his training to achieving 4:20. It’s when the 4:30 finisher tries to run 2:20 that knees explode and paramedics arrive with bags of I.V. glucose. When parents force their kids who could benefit from attending “supported to achieve their academic best” into “demanding academics” that sadness follows.

“No matter where you go, there you are” is a telling psychological insight. Allowing your kids to be content with who they are, as my long suffering readers know, is my favorite prescription for happy families–where ever the sorting hat puts them.