It Came in the Mail

The hype is likely to intensify in the next 20 years, says Sevier, but in most parts of the country it will be aimed at students far different from the hothouse darlings of the Washington suburbs. Sevier, whose firm works with colleges such as Ohio State, Arizona State and Troy University in Alabama, says he is helping many schools position themselves for the demographic changes on the horizon. As the last children of the baby boomers reach college age, the number of traditional applicants is expected to fall, though the number vying for the same few spots at the same "hot" schools is likely to stay the same or even grow.

"Only one in five high school graduates goes to college full time and lives in a dorm," Sevier explains. "All enrollment growth in the next generation is going to be from students of color, adult students, commuter students, nonresidential students at residential colleges and part-time students. The percentage of full-time students who will live in a dorm isn't increasing. For colleges to grow that, they have to literally snag someone else's share."

It's easy for colleges to measure the success of their marketing efforts. Applications jump -- or at least don't drop. But why should I care how many kids apply to any given school? What does the number of applicants say about how good the teaching is, or how large the classes are, or how successful a university's graduates are? What does it really mean when figures show that, for the entering class in 2004, Wash U processed 19,822 applicants but admitted only 4,400? Or that about 4,500 students last year decided that Pomona College was the place to be, though the school admitted only 970 of them?

In a survey of college admissions departments published last year, the National Association for College Admissions Counseling reported that the most important quality for new staffers was their "aptitude for marketing and public relations." The ability to crunch data came in second. The ability to detect a college application essay written by a parent or a hired expert -- priceless, but, sadly, not part of the survey.

Marketing colleges is a tricky business. The schools need to work their way into a family's collective psyche and offer some justification for why tuition has skyrocketed well beyond the inflation rate. They tend to target affluent Zip codes, where they can find paying customers by presenting themselves as standouts of one sort or another. Colleges often tout their U.S. News & World Report standings. Photos on their idyllic brochures sometimes include shots of places students might like, even if those places are miles -- yes, hundreds of miles -- from campus. Several years ago, Virginia's Mary Baldwin College, about 200 miles from the Atlantic, used a photo of Virginia Beach in its marketing literature.

Oglethorpe University in Georgia sent my daughter several postcards, emphasizing the warm weather. "Increase your knowledge. Maintain your tan," said one. "You know what they say about college students that don't get proper exposure to the sun? Well, let's just say it's not pretty. At Oglethorpe, you get the best of both worlds: a great education and a really great place to live."

Sheldon Steinbach, general counsel of the American Council on Education, which represents more than 1,800 public and private colleges, blames some of the direct- marketing excesses on the media, which lavish too much attention on the so-called top tier schools. "People who are writing these stories either went to those schools or are desirous of having their own children go there," he says. "You can go to a whole lot of schools that have a decent education, and they are good for you, too."

But they need to make sure you know about them. Marketing is one way to do that. Judy Hingle, director of professional development for the admissions counseling organization, argues that marketing widens opportunities for students, many of whom "would never hear from anybody," and otherwise would have no idea about the array of colleges and universities available to them.

We weren't in danger of that in my Zip code, as the cards, letters and brochures poured in from Drexel, Mount Holyoke, Oglethorpe, Macalester, Oberlin, Smith, Wellesley, Swarthmore, Vassar, New York University, Maryland and Saint Mary's, among others. Eventually, my daughter would receive 30 pounds of direct mail -- filling three large boxes. So would most of her friends.

Some of the brochures didn't come from colleges but from SAT prep companies and college admissions consultants. These are people who want to market my child to the schools she'd like to attend. College admissions consulting is a growth industry on the East Coast but doesn't exist almost anywhere else, Sevier says: " 'What preschool did you go to?' is just not a question you get in Iowa."

AN E-MAIL DROPPED INTO MY INBOX one day last March, announcing a college night to be held at nearby Walter Johnson High School. I wanted to gather more information on the process my daughter was about to start. So I headed for the glass-enclosed cafeteria at WJ, notebook in hand.

When I arrived, there were already more than 100 people present, mostly parents, but some with their children, huddled together, speaking in low tones, waiting, apparently, for The Word.