For the wealthy and well-connected, the rat race for selective college admissions starts in preschool, if not earlier. Privileged parents, with an eye on their little one’s future admission to Harvard, Stanford or Yale, pay for private schools, tutors, test prep, elite sports programs, even trips overseas to volunteer — anything that might make their children stand out among the thousands of students applying to top colleges each year. And if that isn’t enough to secure a spot, then the richest among them might make a large donation to their college of choice.
It isn’t a surprise that affluent parents try to game college admissions. Nor is it shocking that colleges give an edge to athletes or the children of major donors. But just how far are some parents willing to go to secure a spot in a premier school? And who are they doing it for — their child or their own egos? Those are the questions answered by Wall Street Journal reporters Melissa Korn and Jennifer Levitz in their compelling new book, “Unacceptable: Privilege, Deceit & the Making of the College Admissions Scandal.”
A ticktock account of last year’s explosive admissions scandal known as Operation Varsity Blues, the book shows how dozens of rich and famous parents — aided by an unscrupulous independent college admissions counselor — bribed coaches, falsified academic and sports profiles, inflated test scores, and even lied about their children’s race to gain admission to colleges like Yale, Georgetown, Stanford and the University of Southern California. Among them were two television actresses, Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman, which guaranteed titillating wall-to-wall media coverage. The stories highlighted by Korn and Levitz are read-out-loud appalling. There’s the teenager who sits in his family’s mansion and works on a draft of his college essay with a professional writer. His topic: “the anguish of growing up poor.” Another teen, directed by his father, pretends to be a water polo player, posing awkwardly in the family pool with a ball and swim cap hastily purchased on Amazon. And then there’s the White son of college-educated parents whose college applications indicated that he was African American, Mexican and the first in his family to attend college.
At the center of every story is Rick Singer, the for-hire college counselor, selected by families not only to demystify the admissions process but often to ensure the “right” outcome. Driven, competitive and entrepreneurial, Singer could have made a comfortable living providing legitimate services to middle-class and affluent families at a time when many colleges are increasingly selective and parents are eager to improve their children’s odds. But Singer also knew the college admissions system well enough to effectively game it for parents willing to pay large sums for a sure thing. Over time, he built a criminal enterprise, with unethical coaches willing to take bribes, a testing whiz to inflate ACT and SAT scores, and employees who created fake academic and athletic profiles. The scheme was so bold as to be unbelievable, and yet it went on for years.
Like many people, I followed the media coverage when the scandal broke, but I found the story somehow more outrageous and more haunting as a book. Korn and Levitz go beyond the celebrities, though they are included, and show how each of the parents involved ultimately decided what level of fraud they were comfortable with — and almost more interestingly, what lines some wouldn’t cross — in the pursuit of securing a spot in a premier college for their child. Some, like Huffman, were uncomfortable with what they had done. Others were far too comfortable; their sense of entitlement was palpable.
Korn and Levitz deftly handle a complex cast of characters, with a gentle touch for the children involved, even those who probably knew about the deception. Still, I found myself wanting to know more about the other students — the ones who could have gotten into Yale or Georgetown but didn’t because their spots were taken by Singer’s less-deserving clients. In one chapter, they do highlight a talented pole vaulter from a tiny ranching town in West Texas, whose photograph from the state championships was stolen for another student’s fake profile. The real pole vaulter couldn’t dream of attending a college like USC.
Race is an important, though somewhat ignored, subtext of the book. Some of the White, wealthy students lied about their race on their applications, under the mistaken impression that being White put them at a disadvantage when applying to college. Yet the system is built for students exactly like most of Singer’s clients, by prioritizing high SAT and ACT scores, participation in elite sports programs, and access to Advanced Placement courses. And the college essay, which could highlight the adversity or unique challenges faced by students coming from less-privileged backgrounds, can feel exploitative. In Singer’s hands, it turned into a farce, with rich students writing about poverty and gangs.
The judge who sentenced Huffman made the point clearly when she tried to pinpoint the reason that Operation Varsity Blues caused such outrage. Speaking to the actress, she said it wasn’t that the rich and well-connected had greater access to premier universities — we knew that — it was that even with all of those benefits, “you took the step of obtaining one more advantage to put your child ahead of theirs.” It’s a message that readers, especially parents, should spend some time considering when they finish the book.
Unacceptable
Privilege, Deceit & the Making of the College Admissions Scandal
By Melissa Korn and Jennifer Levitz
Portfolio. 368 pp. $28