Jessica Lander, a high school teacher and 2015 Harvard Graduate School of Education alum, is blogging for Usable Knowledge about what happens when research ideas, policy initiatives, and best practices meet the real world. (Read previous posts in her Usable Knowledge series.) Jessica also writes about education for the Boston Globe and other outlets. Follow her on Twitter at @jessica_lander.
“What is Smith College?” she asked.
It was late November and one of my seniors sat down to talk with me about college. Quickly it became clear she been exposed to very few options. Many had told her to just apply to community college. I was flabbergasted. Community college is a good option for many students. But she was one of my strongest students and a strong candidate for competitive public and private colleges. Indeed, if she secured a scholarship, it would be a more financially viable option than scrapping together money to pay tuition at a state school. Together we began drawing up a list.
As December rolled around, more students and former students started showing up at my door — essay drafts, resume drafts, and college brochures in hand. My students are all recent arrivals to the United States, and many will be the first in their families to attend college. Families often lacked detailed knowledge of American colleges, so students brought their questions to me.
For too many, I didn’t have answers. I sent them to our college and career center, but soon encountered a larger issue. Across American high schools, there is, on average, one college counselor for every 350 students. At our nation’s largest schools, the average rises to one counselor for more than 500 students. In contrast, at the private high school I attended, each college counselor was responsible for just 35 of us.
I put a call out to friends. “Will you mentor a senior through the college process?” I asked. I was lucky; friends came to the rescue.
My students often don’t realize just how powerful their stories of resilience are, and how those experiences speak volumes to their ability to thrive in college. They have escaped wars, grown up in refugee camps, left everything they knew to come start over in America. I have students who have mastered more than seven languages as they moved across continents. Many have taken on the jobs and responsibilities of adults.
I paired each friend with a student, and over email and library meet-ups, my friends advised students on how to craft an essay. With that assistance, my students composed essays where their lives leapt from the page: the multiyear flight from Iraq; the transformation from a shy immigrant to confident school changemaker and journalist; the magical experience of seeing snow for the first time.
As friends and I scrambled to play the roles of college mentors, we bumped up against a frustrating obstacle. There are excellent college-transition programs designed to support low-income, first-generation, refugee, and immigrant students. There are forward-thinking colleges that warmly welcome and support these students. There are an increasing number of colleges that are SAT or ACT optional — ideal for students who excel academically but can’t devote months to test prep courses. But information about these great options is not organized or easily accessible; I happened upon each by chance.
When students don’t know what schools they should apply to, how best to describe their stories, or how to secure financial aid, how can they compete with students at elite high schools with a team of mentors and counselors guiding them?
We need to revamp the college process to close the information gap. Many colleges have said loud and clear that they want and are committed to increasing the number of first-generation and low-income students on their campuses. But they too admit to struggling to try to reach out successfully to these students.
Devoting hours before and after school for three months I was able to support a handful of my students as they navigated the college process. But this is not a sustainable or scalable solution to ensure my students (and others) have the best shot at college.
Here are just three ideas of steps we can take:
January was a mad rush of looking over essays, tracking down tax forms, deciphering the FAFSA form, reminding teachers to submit recommendations, and calling colleges to answer questions about particular students’ applications.
When I applied to college, I vividly remember staying up late with my parents the nights leading up to deadline, finalizing and re-finalizing the many components. This January felt similar.
On February 1, the last application went in. Now we wait.
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