Divergent Paths to College: Race, Class, and Inequality in High Schools 9780813590288

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Divergent Paths to College

Critical Issues in American Education Lisa Michele Nunn, Series Editor

Taking advantage of sociology’s position as a leader in the social scientific study of education, this series is home to new empirical and applied bodies of work that combine social analy­sis, cultural critique, and historical perspectives across disciplinary lines and the usual methodological bound­aries. Books in the series aim for topical and theoretical breadth. Anchored in so­cio­log­i­cal analy­sis, Critical Issues in American Education features carefully crafted empirical work that takes up the most pressing educational issues of our time, including federal education policy, gender and racial disparities in student achievement, access to higher education, l­ abor market outcomes, teacher quality, and decision making within institutions. Judson G. Everitt, Lesson Plans: The Institutional Demands of Becoming a Teacher Megan M. Holland, Divergent Paths to College: Race, Class, and In­equality in High Schools Daisy Verduzco Reyes, Learning to Be Latino: How Colleges Shape Identity Politics

Divergent Paths to College Race, Class, and In­equality in High Schools

MEGAN M. HOLLAND

Rutgers University Press New Brunswick, Camden and Newark, New Jersey and London

Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-­Publication Data Names: Holland, Megan M., author. Title: Divergent paths to college : race, class, and in­equality in high schools / Megan M. Holland. Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, [2019] | Series: Critical issues in American education | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018015311| ISBN 9780813590264 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780813590257 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780813590271 (e-­pub) | ISBN 9780813590288 (web-­pdf) Subjects: LCSH: Educational equalization—­United States. | Discrimination in education—­ United States. | Universities and colleges—­United States—­Admission. | College choice—­ Social aspects—­United States. Classification: LCC LC213.2 .H635 2019 | DDC 379.2/60973—­dc23 LC rec­ord available at https://­lccn​.­loc​.­gov​/­2018015311 Copyright © 2019 by Megan M. Holland All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law. The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—­Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39​.­48​-­1992. www​.­r utgersuniversitypress​.­org Manufactured in the United States of Amer­i­ca

For Chris

Contents 1

College Dreams and College Outcomes

1

2

Every­one Goes to College

17

3

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers

39

4

When Brokering Fails: Guidance Holes and Broken Trust

66

5

Opportunities or Opportunistic: Marketing in Higher Education

90

6

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

114

7

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess, College Destinations, and Beyond

134

Methodological Appendix 157 Acknowl­edgments 165 Notes 169 References 183 Index197

vii

Divergent Paths to College

1

College Dreams and College Outcomes

Eve, Mariah, William, and Hannah1 are all certain they w ­ ill attend college. Eve, the ­daughter of African immigrants, wants to be a doctor. Mariah, who is upbeat and friendly even as she b­ attles a chronic illness, comes to our first interview with a list of more than twenty schools that she is interested in. William, whose ­family hails from Eu­rope, plans on college, but seems more excited about the social life it might offer than academics. Hannah debates between attending her ­mother’s alma mater or State, where her ­sister currently attends. All have college plans and contend that “every­one goes to college” at their high schools. And to an extent, this is true. Eve and William attend Park City High School (PCHS), and Mariah and Hannah attend Evanstown High School (EHS), which are about twenty miles from each other in the suburbs of a northeastern state.2 At both high schools, over 95 ­percent of students gradu­ate on time and over 90 ­percent of t­ hose attend college, with 75 ­percent attending a four-­year college. Both schools send a number of students to Ivy League universities, among other colleges, ­every year. The odds are in their ­favor that Eve, Mariah, William, and Hannah ­will attend college ­after high school. Only three of ­these students ended up attending any college (two-­or four-­ year), however, and only one graduated within four years. Most impor­tant, it was not random chance that dictated who attended and graduated and who did not. Along the way, ­these students, who ­were all moderate achievers,3 diverged in their paths to college. ­These paths ­were defined by students’ 1

2  •  Divergent Paths to College

social background, such as their race and class, and also by the way their high schools structured access to critical college information. What happened along the way? What role did ­these “college-­going” schools play in guiding students down disparate paths? Both Evanstown and Park City high schools have school cultures focused on college. They are situated in well-­to-do suburbs with home prices and median incomes above the average for the state. The schools are both rated in the top one hundred in the state. Both have student–­counselor ratios well below the national average, and even below the American School Counselor Association recommended ratio of 250:1. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that both schools also have student populations that are relatively diverse, both racially and socio­ eco­nom­ically. Why was it, then, that Mariah, Eve, William, and Hannah had such dif­fer­ent experiences despite attending the same, or similar schools? ­Today, college attendance is critical. A college degree is associated with obtaining a higher-­paying job, making more money over the course of a lifetime, better chances for social mobility, and better health outcomes.4 The former president of the United States appealed to all students to commit to attending college, even for just a few years.5 In 2016, a presidential candidate ran on a platform of reducing or removing college costs so that every­one could attend debt-­free.6 The popu­lar media, policymakers, and educators have spent a lot of time trying to convince students how impor­tant it is to attend college. This campaign to increase college aspirations has largely been successful: t­ oday, the vast majority of youth aspire to a college degree.7 ­These students know how impor­ tant it is to go to college, and many see postsecondary education as the next logical step a­ fter high school. What students do not know, however, is how to effectively navigate the increasingly complex and competitive college application pro­cess. They know where they want to go, but how do they get ­there? For Eve, Mariah, William, and Hannah, this was where their paths diverged. Their stories are defined by varying levels of privilege. That privilege consists of economic resources, which are crucial to their stories, but also their social and cultural resources and how they translated t­ hese into impor­tant information about the college application pro­cess. Their high schools reinforced the dif­fer­ent paths to college ­these students started out on by valuing and enhancing privilege and disadvantaging ­those who w ­ ere not privileged with college information. How did the high schools do this? In this book, I argue that Park City and Evanstown high schools connected students to college information via orga­nizational brokering,8 that is, the schools had a hand in creating connections among students, adults, and institutions that could provide information, resources, and further connections, or what sociologists call social capital.9 However, not all students had access to the same opportunities for connections and this was largely related to their racial and class backgrounds. As a result, more privileged students w ­ ere propelled by the schools

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 3

into gaining access to even more social capital, while less privileged students had less access. In ­doing this, more privileged students ­were directed ­toward more selective colleges and universities, while less privileged students ­were steered ­toward less selective or nonselective two-­and four-­year colleges, or no college destination at all. Evanstown and Park City high schools ended up tracking students into very dif­fer­ent college destinations due to their brokering of college information, despite an overall culture in both schools that heavi­ly pushed college aspirations, and four-­year college attendance. The lit­er­a­ture on college application has been characterized by a focus on “choice”—­whether students choose to apply to or attend college, and if so where. The way counselors, students, and parents talked about college at both Park City and Evanstown high schools also focused on where students chose to apply and where they would choose to enroll. However, I argue in this book that this language belied the real­ity that some students had fewer choices than it would appear. Few students could articulate how or why they chose to attend college, and most did not feel they had any other options. Even t­ hose who did not attend college rarely chose this alternative path. Instead, ­whether or not students attended college, and particularly where they attended, was a result of differential access to social connections and college information, which put students on dif­fer­ent paths. Orga­nizational brokering solidified and reinforced differences in college pathways.

Social Connections and Postsecondary Trajectories Social connections, and the information and resources that are derived from ­those connections, had a critical impact on students’ postsecondary transition experiences at Park City and Evanstown high schools. William and Hannah, both White with college-­educated10 parents, received help with essays and applications from ­family and friends, as well as suggestions on potential colleges to apply to. Their trajectories a­ fter high school differed—­William took two years off, attended community college for a year, and had just begun his first semester at State University when I reinterviewed him four years ­after he graduated high school. Hannah enrolled at State immediately ­after high school, graduated with a 3.3 GPA in four years, and was planning on attending gradu­ate school. Yet social connections played a critical role in each of their lives, as did their economic resources. William, consistently supported by his parents, traveled the world working for a nonprofit owned by a ­family friend. Hannah applied to the wrong school at State University, but her f­ather was able to talk to a dean and get her into the right (and more selective) one. Her ­family paid for her college education and was ­going to finance her gradu­ate education as well. While ­these connections might seem small, they ­were activated at critical turning points in William’s and Hannah’s lives.

4  •  Divergent Paths to College

In contrast, though equally ambitious, Mariah and Eve’s postsecondary transitions w ­ ere rockier and their f­ utures more tenuous when I reinterviewed them four years ­after high school. Mariah and Eve are both Black. Eve’s parents immigrated from Africa and have college degrees from their home countries. Mariah lives with her ­mother and has a strained relationship with her ­father. Her ­mother has a college degree that she obtained ­later in life. However, Mariah and Eve’s families did not have the wealth or connections that William’s and Hannah’s did. Mariah received sporadic help from f­ amily while applying to college (an aunt paid for her application fees), but strug­gled with a confusing and sometimes overwhelming pro­cess. Eve’s parents read over her essays, but, like Mariah, she did not have anyone ­else to provide advice. Her counselor was helpful, but not r­eally with “legit t­hings like personal statements and ­things like that ­because she is at school.” Both Eve and Mariah w ­ ere influenced by emails and letters they got from colleges encouraging them to apply and offering ­free applications. Mariah could not believe that some colleges “[would] even know me or want me or anything are emailing me [and they] sound awesome.” ­A fter high school, Eve, having made ­mistakes on the FAFSA (­Free Application for Federal Student Aid) and submitting it late, found out that she would not receive enough financial aid to attend her chosen university. Her parents could not make up the difference. She found her high school counselor unhelpful and ended up not attending college. The four years since then for Eve have consisted of a string of entry-­level jobs found through relentlessly submitting applications. Mariah did attend a local competitive11 state university, a significant step down from elite, most competitive New York University, which she described as her “dream school” when I spoke with her during her ju­nior year. She strug­gled with paying her bills, ­family and health issues, and a lack of support at her school. She was not ­going to be graduating in four years, but hoped to finish in December of her fifth year. Resources tend to accrue to t­ hose who have privilege to begin with, including social capital. William and Hannah w ­ ere able to draw on ­these ties to negotiate challenges that could have turned out very differently. The lack of economic resources and social connections compounded each other for Mariah and Eve, when financial trou­bles exposed the lack of ties each had. For the most part, the social connections that ­were critical h ­ ere ­were forged outside of their high schools and ­were the products of students’ social backgrounds. William and Hannah came to school with more wealth, generations of f­ amily members who had attended college, older siblings with college experience, and families with connections that could provide jobs and “ins” into higher education. Mariah and Eve came to school with few or none of t­ hese advantages. One is perhaps left wondering where their high schools figured into ­these students’ stories. Considering the importance each high school placed on college attendance, ­shouldn’t their high schools have stepped in to

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 5

provide Mariah and Eve with the support they could not get from their families? Why ­didn’t Eve’s counselor help her with the FAFSA so she could have avoided the financial issues that led her to forgo college? Why d­ idn’t a counselor work with Mariah during the college search, and discuss with her how to evaluate all the “flattering” emails she got from colleges?12 This is a key question that has inspired this book. What role do high schools play in influencing students’ postsecondary trajectories? Can they help make up for the dif­f er­ent resources and amounts of social capital that students bring to school, or do they reinforce t­ hese initial differences? In my interviews with Eve, Hannah, William, Mariah, and dozens of o­ thers, their high schools and counselors seemed to be only a small part of the story, at least initially. When I asked students to indicate who was most helpful to them in the college application pro­cess, students ­were twice as likely to list parents over counselors. That most students, across social background, felt that their counselors and high schools played ­little role in helping them apply to college, or for some ­were obstacles in the pro­cess, was intriguing to me. De­cades of research suggests that high schools are critical players in the college application pro­cess. ­Those who attend better-­resourced schools are more likely to attend college and to attend a more selective one.13 Elite private schools have long-­standing connections with some of the most competitive colleges.14 Counselors in par­tic­u­lar can be critical sources of information for students during the college pro­ cess, especially first-­generation college students.15 Why, then, did the students in my sample not ­really see their high schools or school counselors as very impor­tant? As I began analyzing students’ stories, I came to see that the high schools did play a role in influencing the social capital that students had access to as they navigated the college application pro­cess, and even long ­after applications ­were submitted. This role existed in the background, however, when the high schools acted as orga­nizational brokers, connecting students to each other, to counselors, and to college admissions officers through classes, counseling meetings, and college events. Th ­ ese connections provided opportunities for students to obtain support, resources, and information. The way that brokering worked among students was not equal, however. For students such as William and Hannah, the connections that the schools provided to peers with similar backgrounds and social connections in classes, to school counselors who reinforced what they already knew about the college pro­cess, and to college admissions officers through school-­sponsored informational sessions, seemed to be unintentional or ­simple “givens” for how high schools worked. Yet for students such as Mariah and Eve, ­these ­were not givens. They ­were in lower-­ tracked classes with ­others who lacked connections. They attended similar meetings with their counselors, but did not know what to ask or what to do with the information that they ­were given, or that the real help came

6  •  Divergent Paths to College

when you sought out your counselor multiple times ­after that on your own. They w ­ ere also encouraged to attend very dif­fer­ent types of college events that connected them to less selective colleges in environments that provided ­little information. Students such as Mariah and Eve entered high school with less social capital and fewer economic resources compared with peers such as William and Hannah, and this gap did not lessen over time. Mariah and Eve, and other students like them, w ­ ere steered ­toward classes and college events that put them at an even further disadvantage. They ­were positioned by their schools to make less useful connections and receive less helpful information about colleges, and even steered ­toward applying to less selective schools. As a result, more and less privileged students at Park City and Evanstown high schools ­were on dif­fer­ent trajectories. Although all paths purportedly led to college, the end destinations ­were not equal in terms of college attendance, selectivity, or success. In the end, Park City and Evanstown high schools, despite good intentions, reproduced in­equality among students at best, and at worst, exacerbated it. And yet, they did all of this in the background, operating in a way that led few students, counselors, teachers, or administrators to see how the schools set students up for dif­fer­ent educational trajectories early on in the college application pro­cess.

Reproducing In­equality in College Destinations The story of schools reproducing in­equality among students is not new. Social reproduction theorists have long looked to the school as a key site in the reproduction of in­equality. Scholars argue that schools value middle-­class students for the cultural characteristics they bring to school, and then reward them with academic achievement.16 At the same time, schools devalue working-­ class students’ knowledge and this translates into lower achievement, thus convincing ­these students they are not “smart” and would never do well in school. This lowers working-­class students’ aspirations and creates countercultures that prevent youth from succeeding in dominant middle-­class institutions.17 In this way, schools reinforce and solidify initial class differences. Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of social reproduction identifies par­tic­u­lar mechanisms that contribute to reproducing inequalities in schools, including social capital, the resources inherent in social ties, and cultural capital, or knowledge, be­hav­iors, tastes, and dispositions associated with par­tic­u­lar social classes. He argues that teachers base grades more on cultural capital than ­actual merit. When wealthier students do better in school, gradu­ate, and go on to higher education, their cultural capital resources are translated into credentials. ­These credentials bring impor­tant connections, such as alumni net-

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 7

works, which increase social capital, all of which can be translated into economic capital in vari­ous ways.18 In this book, I focus on the high school and the exchange of social capital (and its relationship to cultural capital) during the college application pro­cess as a key site of social reproduction. The postsecondary transition marks a critical crossroads for many students. Although more and more students, particularly low-­income and racial/ethnic minority students are enrolling in college, ­these youths are still overall less likely to attend college, to attend a more selective college, and to gradu­ate from college, compared with their higher-­income peers.19 Previous research has examined how high schools reproduced in­equality by tracking students into dif­fer­ent types of classes, leading to vocational and college preparatory trajectories.20 However, instead of working-­class students being placed into tracks that lead directly to work, or at best a vocational school, they are now put on pathways that lead to two-­year community colleges and less competitive four-­year colleges. For example, Patricia McDonough’s in-­ depth ethnographic study of four public and private high-­and low-­income schools and interviews with twelve young White ­women who attended them documented the ways the dif­fer­ent schools ­shaped the girls’ aspirations and expectations, leading lower-­income students to community colleges and state universities, and higher-­income students to the University of California campuses and other elite schools around the country.21 Studies such as McDonough’s have shown how socioeco­nom­ically and racially homogenous schools track students into dif­fer­ent postsecondary destinations. Recently, Lois Weis, Kristin Cipollone, and Heather Jenkins examined some of ­these dynamics among top students at elite secondary schools.22 They found that White, affluent parents engage in significant “class work” to position their c­ hildren for entrance into the most competitive colleges. Low-­ income Black students that they studied, who attended private, affluent high schools, ­were similarly successful in gaining admission to top colleges and ­were positioned to enter the middle-­class; however, their experiences left them feeling as “outsiders within.” Divergent Paths to College extends the examination of racial and class inequalities during the college application pro­cess by looking within heterogeneous public high schools at the experiences of students applying to a range of colleges. Evanstown and Park City high schools ended up tracking students during the postsecondary transition: positioning more advantaged students to attend and be successful at the some of the most elite schools in the country, while funneling less advantaged students into some of the least selective schools. Critically impor­tant and as of yet unaddressed in the lit­er­a­ture, this book brings in the role of higher education institutions and how high school brokering exposes students to college marketing and recruiting, influencing students’ postsecondary destinations.

8  •  Divergent Paths to College

Social Connections in Context By acting as orga­nizational brokers, the high schools ended up reproducing in­equality by providing more privileged students with opportunities to make more advantageous connections and get better college information. However, it did not have to be this way. Institutions can also serve to connect t­ hose who are less advantaged, providing critical connections to information through other institutions, or providing social support, community trust, and engagement.23 If this is true, then c­ ouldn’t institutions do even more, such as provide the advantages and opportunities that they do for wealthier students to ­those who are less advantaged? If that was pos­si­ble, ­wouldn’t schools such as Park City and Evanstown, which enroll students with a diverse range of socioeconomic backgrounds and a number of racial and ethnic origins, be ideal sites for this to occur? By facilitating connections as orga­nizational brokers, ­these schools could connect students such as Mariah and Hannah at Evanstown and increase Mariah’s social capital. Perhaps then Mariah could have gotten more feedback on her college essays, as Hannah had. Perhaps she could have visited some colleges with Hannah and her ­family. Maybe she could have benefited from Hannah’s ­father’s connections and attended State, a more competitive school than the local university she did end up attending. In this way, schools could play a role in mitigating the reproduction of in­equality. While ­there ­were some instances of students making connections that brought new opportunities, overall the social forces that tend ­toward reproduction ­were more power­ful h ­ ere. Why did this occur? A key component is the social context in which orga­nizational brokering occurs and how this influences the dynamics of information exchange and the kinds of connections that are made. This examination of the context of brokering has been left out of many discussions about how and when social ties are formed. However, I argue that it is critical to understanding why the brokering pro­cesses that occurred at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School tended to reproduce in­equality, when in a dif­fer­ent context, the same pro­cesses could have actually helped to lessen the social capital divide. ­There are two contexts that are impor­tant to understanding how the orga­ nizational brokering pro­cesses at Park City and Evanstown high schools reproduced in­equality as they did. ­These contexts are part of the multiple, nested layers of influences that higher education scholar Laura Perna argues are critical to consider when examining students’ college choices.24 Perna developed a conceptual model of college choice that puts the student (and his or her cultural and social capital) at the center of multiple contexts that each work to shape a student’s experience: the social, economic, and policy context; the higher education context; the school and community context; and the habitus. Below, I discuss the larger context of higher education in the United

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 9

States, and particularly the increasingly competitive nature of the college admissions pro­cess at the most elite and competitive universities, to paint a broader picture of the college admissions pro­cess and pressures for students. In chapter 2, I show how this played out in the local school and community context via the development of a college-­for-­all culture. The second school context that I focus on is the impact of race and class on students’ school experiences. This is discussed in chapter 3.

College Selectivity and Cultural Knowledge To understand how power­ful reproduction forces are, even in schools such as Evanstown and Park City, which prided themselves on their diversity and focus on getting e­ very student into college, it is impor­tant to take the current higher education context into consideration. In recent years, the college admissions pro­cess has become increasingly competitive; the top 10 ­percent of colleges are more selective now than they ­were fifty years ago.25 This is due in part to more students applying to colleges and to students applying more broadly.26 Although some schools have become more competitive, many more have actually become less selective as the higher education marketplace has expanded.27 As more students seek out higher education, and the number of institutions grows, differentiation among institutions expands, increasing the qualitative difference between attending more and less selective universities, and serving to maintain inequalities despite an increase in overall educational attainment.28 Not surprisingly, as competition for elite schools increases, the college admissions pro­cess becomes more complex and has higher stakes. ­Today, 86 ­percent of students enroll in a two-­or four-­year college within eight years of graduating high school.29 However, students go about deciding where and how to apply to college in very dif­fer­ent ways that are associated with both class and race/ ethnicity, which contributes to the widening gap in who attends the most elite colleges.30 This is impor­tant ­because more selective colleges tend to have more resources, more full-­time faculty teaching classes, and more well-­connected alumni networks. The research on the impacts of attending a more selective college is mixed.31 Some research finds that ­those who attend more competitive schools are more likely to gradu­ate, earn higher wages, and end up in more prestigious occupations.32 ­These students may also benefit from more social capital accumulation in college and better-­connected networks.33 Of course, it may just be that the qualities that enable students to get into more selective colleges are the kinds of qualities that also help t­ hose students become successful ­later on. Some research that has attempted to address this se­lection bias has found support for the boost of attending a more competitive college,34 while ­others have found ­little support or mixed results.35 Despite ­these debates,

10  •  Divergent Paths to College

most research has found that minorities and students from low-­income backgrounds tend to benefit the most from attending more selective schools, though they are the least likely to attend them.36 Why are less advantaged students less likely to attend more selective schools that provide so many benefits and opportunities? Research suggests that differences in college destinations (at least among the most high achieving students) are the result not of college admissions decisions, or even students’ enrollment decisions, but are reflective of differences in where students choose to apply during the application pro­cess.37 Similarly, scholars have found that high-­and low-­income students navigate the college application pro­cess in dif­ fer­ent ways and take a dif­fer­ent set of steps in a dif­fer­ent order.38 In par­tic­u­lar, higher-­income students are more likely to take AP and honors classes and participate in leadership positions,39 to seek and demand help with applications from school counselors, parents, and private college counselors,40 and to place high value on selective schools.41 That more advantaged students are more likely to employ t­ hese admissions strategies is reflective of concerns among members of the upper ­middle class about securing their class positions through attendance at elite universities.42 ­These concerns preoccupy upper m ­ iddle class families and they are strategic in mobilizing their resources to best position their ­children to attend t­hese colleges by moving to par­tic­u­lar school districts or sending their ­children to elite private schools, encouraging their c­ hildren to participate in extracurriculars, and accumulating significant amounts of knowledge about the college admissions pro­cess.43 Being aware of the importance of this knowledge and pursuing ­these kinds of strategies is an ele­ment of cultural knowledge, an aspect of cultural capital. Both cultural and social capital stem from the habitus, which is a person’s class-­based perspective that directs actions, values, and be­hav­iors, and forms the basis for how college decisions are made.44 The habitus operates in the background and is unobserved, but it influences actions, be­hav­iors, and decisions through the capitals that stem from it. One aspect of cultural capital is cultural knowledge, defined by sociologist Annette Lareau as “facts, information, skills and familiarity with social pro­cesses.”45 Lareau focused particularly on cultural knowledge of how institutions work and found that such knowledge was critical in the postsecondary transition among high-­and low-­ income families that she followed for over twenty years. Understanding how institutions work can help students navigate college registration, know when to withdraw from a class before it becomes a part of your academic rec­ord, and how to talk effectively with a professor and get an extension. In high school, such cultural knowledge is just as critical in figuring out what colleges are looking for in essays, when to call a college admissions office to ask questions, and in recognizing that perhaps the only way to get a public high school counselor to follow up with you is to see her e­ very day at lunch for a week. Th ­ ese

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 11

types of cultural knowledge signify familiarity with institutions and an understanding of how they work. Social ties and networking are critical aspects of the accumulation and use of cultural knowledge.46 First, cultural knowledge can facilitate the accumulation of social capital among students, such as knowing from whom to seek out help in institutions and how to approach them. More advantaged students and their parents tend to be more at ease in schools and other middle-­class institutions. They demand help and parents intercede to make sure their ­children get the advantages that they desire.47 ­Those who have cultural knowledge know that in some institutions you need to consistently ask for what you want, and convince ­those in charge that you deserve it. Social connections can also facilitate the accumulation of cultural knowledge, however. For example, ­those who do not have large stores of cultural knowledge can benefit from connecting with “cultural guides,” who can help students navigate middle-­class institutions and their pro­cesses successfully, intervening at critical points to provide information.48 This might be a high school counselor who helps a student during the college application pro­cess, or a friend in college who teaches her roommate how to approach a professor. In this way, cultural knowledge can serve to facilitate social connections through institutions, and social ties can serve to boost cultural knowledge about how institutions work.

Social Capital In social reproduction theory, cultural, economic, and social capital structure the under­lying pro­cesses of society. Capital is unequally distributed across society, representing the inequalities and constraints of the social world. For Bourdieu, social capital is the combination of the resources inherent in a network of institutionalized relationships. This can be through symbolic relationships, such as the recognition given to t­hose who have a par­tic­u­lar surname or belong to a par­tic­u ­lar club. Other relationships require interactions and mutual exchanges to derive benefit. Social capital is enhanced by economic and cultural capital, so t­ hose who are well endowed with capital have the easiest time accumulating more of it, which reproduces inequalities.49 James Coleman defined social capital somewhat differently, as the norms, obligations, and information that a person can access via her ties. Coleman argued that ­people’s actions are influenced by their social networks and their social capital, thus creating norms for be­hav­ior and reciprocal obligations.50 Coleman found that Catholic schools w ­ ere more successful in increasing achievement b­ ecause of greater stores of social capital. He also found that when parents w ­ ere connected in networks, their c­ hildren w ­ ere more successful in school.51

12  •  Divergent Paths to College

Social capital is critical to investigate when looking at the college application pro­cess and trying to understand differences in college destinations ­because it is distributed unequally across social backgrounds. Low-­income and racial/ ethnic minorities tend to have less social capital.52 They have fewer ties in general and fewer “weak” ties, or casual connections. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that weak ties turn out to be impor­tant for social mobility. Knowing more p­ eople, even just casually, provides access to more information about jobs than knowing a smaller number of p­ eople very well. This is b­ ecause having more weak ties usually means access to more and varied networks with dif­fer­ent types of information. Deep connections with a small number of p­ eople can be redundant in terms of information if every­one is in the same network.53 Blacks are less likely to have weak ties and activate them less frequently, maintaining segregated social networks with less social resources.54 Even middle-­class Blacks may be less likely to have access to and use social ties in the same way as middle-­ class Whites, resulting in obtaining less information and assistance.55 Other research has found that parental social capital among Hispanics and Whites may function differently, making it more difficult to translate educational and economic resources into college attendance for Hispanic youth.56 In­equality in social capital is intensified when networks are segregated by race and class. Resources and network location and characteristics influence social capital accumulation, so when less advantaged groups assem­ble together, they create clusters that lack resources, and this is perpetuated by the princi­ple of homophily—­that like ­will stick with like. Initial differences in information and resources can become even more pronounced when networks are closed off.57 Although the effect of social capital on a variety of outcomes has been well studied, we still know surprisingly l­ ittle about how ties are formed and activated.58 Considering the inequalities in social capital across race and class, understanding how social capital is created can shed light on an impor­tant source of in­equality. One par­tic­u­lar area of interest ­here is the role of institutions in assisting in the formation of social ties by providing contexts for interaction. Mario Small studied childcare centers in New York City and found that some centers ­were more conducive to the formation of social ties than o­ thers.59 ­Simple aspects of the center’s organ­ization, such as drop-­off times, could lead to more interactions among parents, which could then translate into relationships that helped parents in times of need, such as picking up their ­children when they ­were r­ unning late returning from work. Other work has shown that environments that encourage a sense of belonging and membership, and that invite reciprocal exchanges, can increase social capital among parents.60 Small argued that the childcare centers that he studied, and other organ­ izations, can act as orga­nizational brokers by working to connect p­ eople from

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 13

dif­fer­ent networks and enhancing their social capital. Furthermore, he contended that t­hese organ­izations could help sustain, strengthen, or weaken ties; affect the quality of ties; and influence the norms and culture within which ­these ties operate. Sometimes the creation of social ties may be happy by-­ products of the organ­ization and thus unintentional. In other cases, organ­ izations may actively work to create such ties.61 In addition, organ­izations can not only structure ties between individuals but also connect them to other organ­izations, and to potentially critical resources and information.62

The Study I began my two-­year study at Evanstown and Park City high schools interested in the role of social capital in the college application pro­cess. Over time, I became interested in the ways that the high schools structured students’ access to this capital and the way this intersected with both the students’ social background (what they brought to school) and the cultural context of the school (what was valued). While conducting my research, I focused on the student’s perspective of the college application pro­cess, and this focus dominates this book. The majority of the data I collected derives from students. I conducted interviews with eighty-­nine students across both schools and conducted multiple interviews with a subsample of “focal” students over time. I had students fill out a survey about their backgrounds and college application experiences ­after each interview. I gathered test score and achievement test data on the students in my study. I also shadowed students throughout their school days and engaged in observation throughout the schools. As I analyzed the data I was collecting from students, I came to see that their stories, perspectives, and experiences w ­ ere critical, but they w ­ ere also ­shaped largely by forces outside of their control, including the schools, counselors, their parents, and colleges. I worked to get a broader view of the college application pro­cess at ­these schools by observing in the counseling offices and at college-­related events, shadowing and interviewing counselors and other faculty and administrators, and talking with local in­de­pen­dent college counselors and college admissions officers. This additional data collection expanded my understanding of the kinds of information available to students and how it was advertised, and the broader context in which students ­were making decisions. In the methodological appendix, I go into more detail about my data collection methods.

The Book This book is the culmination of more than two years of field work, over 150 individual interviews, and many years of analy­sis. It includes longitudinal

14  •  Divergent Paths to College

follow-up data from a sample of students four years a­ fter high school graduation, as well as detailed data about individual students’ college application experiences from their ju­nior through se­nior years. The book seeks to show how the high schools influenced students’ aspirations and access to information, and how the connections they brokered (or did not) contributed to dif­ fer­ent college outcomes for students. The book examines the details of the college application pro­cess, from taking the SATs to college visits to pressing “submit” on the application form. This is b­ ecause ­there is a significant lack of research on all that happens between a student deciding that she wants to go to college and submitting the enrollment deposit. However, what happens in between is crucial to understanding why some students end up at elite Ivy League universities and ­others at community colleges. Alexandra Radford studied this question among high school valedictorians—­students who had the credentials and talent to attend college anywhere in the United States.63 She found that where a student applied was more impor­tant in determining their college destination than admissions decisions or enrollment choices. And ­these application decisions ­were significantly influenced by differences in access to college information. Considering t­ hese findings, this book takes the next step in uncovering how high schools themselves structure access to information during the application pro­cess and how this varies from student to student. I do this by delving into both the way that the schools ­were or­ga­nized and how they provided information, and also how students accessed and made sense of that information. Chapter  2 begins by introducing the reader to the Park City and Evanstown communities and schools. Both schools exhibited a robust college-­ going culture in which college was emphasized daily and where information was plentiful. Both also tended to veer t­ oward a “college-­for-­a ll” norm, however, that emphasized four-­year college attendance over other alternatives. This led to social pressure on students to attend four-­year colleges, though not all ­were adequately prepared. A stigma developed around attending two-­year colleges, and this was seen as one of the least desirable outcomes in the college pro­cess. Lower-­achieving youth felt confused and betrayed when they realized that the schoolwide message about four-­year college attendance did not actually apply to them and they ­were instead encouraged to look to two-­year schools. This focus on four-­year colleges created a context in which less advantaged students strug­gled mightily to achieve what was expected of them, yet with a lack of support, preparation, and information, they did not know how to navigate the college pro­cess or make informed choices. The next three chapters examine how the social capital gained from dif­fer­ ent types of connections facilitated selective college application for students, and how the schools structured opportunities so that not every­one was able to

College Dreams and College Outcomes • 15

make ­these kinds of critical social connections. In chapter 3, I focus on a key source of social capital for students: peers. Peers ­were impor­tant in the college search and they helped in number of ways. Not all students had equally helpful peers, however. Black students tended to find their friends less helpful in the college search; in fact, one student characterized the pro­cess as “the blind leading the blind,” indicating that despite attending diverse schools, students ­were grouping together into resource-­rich and resource-­poor networks. This was ­because most classes in both schools w ­ ere tracked, which led White and upper ­middle class students to be clustered in the more advanced classes and Black and working-­class students to be clustered in the less advanced classes. This chapter delves into the racial context of the high schools and shows how this context, and the conflation of race, class, and achievement, served as one way in which in­equality was reproduced. Chapter 4 describes how students seek out information and interact with counselors who have the potential to be key sources of social capital for less advantaged students. However, many times working-­class and minority students have difficulty accessing this capital from White middle-­class school counselors due to differences in help-­seeking approaches and cultural capital, which leads to a lack of trust. This lack of trust exemplifies a failure in the schools’ resource brokering and the result is a guidance hole—­a gap between students and their counselors in the school’s structural network. That hole was bridged when trust was created between students and counselors through shared expectations, support, and personal regard. Chapter 5 analyzes the role that higher education marketing plays in students’ college decisions. I examine the brokering role that the high schools took in connecting students to higher education institutions and the ways ­these brokerages played out among students with differential access to social capital. Overall, less advantaged students ­were more influenced by marketing strategies, and the high schools encouraged students to attend college-­related events that played into their college-­going insecurities by making them feel as though they w ­ ere wanted by a school. However, many times the schools that w ­ ere the most flattering ­were the least selective. Th ­ ese less selective but flattering schools filled in guidance holes by providing the college encouragement that students ­were not getting from their counselors. Chapter 6 examines how students make their final college decisions, how they rationalize their decisions to themselves and o­ thers, and the ways t­hese college decisions are influenced by students’ relationships. I focus on the educational trajectories of a small number of students and lead readers through their application experiences to the final college decision, identifying the multiple ­factors that influence how students negotiate among their choices. I show that for many students, however, t­ here is actually less “choice” than one would think.

16  •  Divergent Paths to College

The final chapter draws heavi­ly on the longitudinal data I collected four years ­after students graduated from high school. I followed up with eleven students who pursued diverse trajectories ranging from attending Ivy League universities to not attending college at all. What happened to students whose paths diverged ­after high school? How can understanding their pathways inform college counseling at the high school level? I discuss my recommendations for policy, practice, and research. This book gives readers an in-­depth picture of how the college application pro­cess works at two racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse schools, which means that I show two very dif­fer­ent pictures of that pro­cess. On the one hand, advantaged students, who are in networks rich with information and resources, stress over SAT scores, hire the best private counselors, and gossip about who is applying where so they can try to maximize their admissions chances. On the other, less advantaged students hold fast onto college dreams despite a lack of information and support from friends, f­amily, and school counselors. It is not ­until college admissions decisions roll in that they begin to realize the impact of SAT scores, extracurricular participation, and Early Decision deadlines on college admittance. ­These differences in information put students on dif­fer­ent paths ­toward dif­fer­ent college destinations, and in this book I show how the high schools they attended worked to keep students on ­these initial paths through the way they structured access to social connections that could provide critical college information.

2

Every­one Goes to College With stately Victorian homes lining its leafy streets, suburban Park City sits less than twenty miles from Metro, a major northeastern city.1 Park City has a population of about 40,000 p­ eople, 60 ­percent White, 25 ­percent Black, 10 ­percent Latino, 3  ­percent Asian, and 2  ­percent mixed race.2 The median ­house­hold income is $100,000 and the average home value is $570,000. Known for its liberal po­liti­cal views, Park City attracts professionals and creative types, many with young families, who commute to Metro for work. Carrie, a White young ­woman who has lived in Park City since birth said, “I think it’s a pretty liberal town and we have a certain po­liti­cal mind-­set and a certain outlook on life.” Jules, a biracial young man from Park City echoed Carrie’s thoughts: Park City is an in­ter­est­ing town ­because it’s prob­ably like one of the most liberal towns in the area. We voted 95 ­percent for Obama and it’s a very liberal town. . . . ​ a lot of kids have parents who w ­ ere like protesters during the Vietnam War. Th ­ ere is also a huge journalism community in Park City. . . . ​So it’s a very activist town and that tends t­ oward having kids who are similarly active in every­thing they do.

Students praised Park City for its liberal atmosphere, proudly told me that it had the highest number of interracial ­couples in the area, and listed the many ways students embraced the Park City identity through po­liti­cal demonstrations, student-­run film festivals, and the highly praised journalism and media program.3 Many students noted that Park City’s proximity to Metro influenced its culture. Carrie said, “A lot of p­ eople come from Metro and come to Park City 17

18  •  Divergent Paths to College

b­ ecause it is a quin­tes­sen­tial suburb but it is still very modern and I think it is very unique.” The town tries to appeal to ­these professors, l­ awyers, artists, and journalists used to the culture and eclecticism of Metro. The main street, Meadowfield Ave­nue, is full of ethnic restaurants, local boutiques, in­de­pen­ dent coffee shops, and m ­ usic venues. Jordan, a Black young ­woman who has lived in Park City her w ­ hole life said: I live in the best part of town. I live . . . ​right by Meadowfield Ave., which is the center of Park City. It’s where every­thing happens. ­There is almost ­every type of restaurant you can think of, pizza place. Th ­ ere is Italian. ­There is Greek. ­There is Australian. Th ­ ere is Ethiopian. ­There is French. ­There is . . . ​I’m trying to think of all the restaurants. Th ­ ere is Portuguese. ­Every type of food you can think of. . . . ​It’s a big deal, and then I can walk everywhere. It attracts a lot of dif­fer­ent ­people. . . .

Another point of pride among students and residents of Park City is the town’s racial diversity. Park City views itself as unique in Prince County, which is a mix of wealthy suburban towns such as Park City and urban, racially and socioeco­nom­ically segregated cities such as Urban City, a once bustling metropolis that de­cades of deindustrialization and White flight have left with a poverty rate close to 30 ­percent and a median income that is almost a third of Park City’s. Few other towns in Prince County can rival Park City’s diversity. Th ­ ere is still some residential racial and socioeconomic segregation, however. West Park City, a neighborhood within Park City, is the wealthier, whiter section. More Black residents live “downtown,” closer to the major thoroughfare in apartment buildings, and more White residents live in ­houses on streets off of the main street and in West Park City. Overall, however, most students saw the town as solidly upper m ­ iddle class and commented on rising property values. Smith, a Black young man who has lived in Park City all his life, said: “I absolutely love this town. . . . ​I mean, this is one of the most diverse towns in the country. I love it h ­ ere, I wish I could stay ­here but I know, come what­ever college I come back from, I’m not ­going to be able to afford to live ­here.” Park City High School is approximately 49  ­percent White, 41  ­percent Black, 6  ­percent Latino, and 4  ­percent Asian.4 It is consistently ranked among the top one hundred schools in the state and sends numerous students to Ivy League colleges e­ very year. Its diversity is a point of pride. Ace, a Black se­nior who lived in a few dif­fer­ent lower-­income towns in Prince County before moving to Park City, praised the diversity, but also noted how unusual it was. He noted that the diversity could be a disadvantage for students when they went to college: “When you go off to college it’s just dif­fer­ent . . . ​it would be ­really hard to find a college as diverse as Park City other than Park University I guess.”

Every­one Goes to College • 19

About twenty miles to the west sits Evanstown High School, which serves all of Evans Township, Evanstown, and Evans Fields. Together, the three have a population of about 45,000 and encompass about twenty square miles. Evanstown has a more urban feel and is home to the most diverse population of the three. It is 47 ­percent White, 15 ­percent Black, 34 ­percent Latino, and 4 ­percent Asian, and has a median income of $80,000. Evans Township is 80  ­percent White, 6  ­percent Black, 9  ­percent Latino, and 5  ­percent Asian, with a median income of about $120,000. Bordering Evans Township is Evans Fields, the smallest and most rural, with a population that is 86 ­percent White, 3 ­percent Black, 7 ­percent Latino, and 4 ­percent Asian, with a median income of $110,000. The dif­fer­ent municipalities and larger area lead to more neighborhood differences compared with Park City. Victorian homes and old oak trees line the streets of Evanstown’s more established neighborhoods and newer homes in more rural Evans Fields come with acres of land and even more trees. Evanstown attracts many young professionals who want easy access to the train station to commute to Metro. Restaurants, boutiques, and coffee shops line the town square. The average home value in Evans Township is about $500,000, prob­ably reflecting the slightly longer commute to Metro. While more ethnically diverse than Park City, this diversity is newer, and Evanstown is still figuring out its identity. Park City’s identity is rooted in its eclectic, diverse culture and it has embraced this. In contrast, Evanstown’s identity is rooted in tradition. Evanstown has history—­a large statue proudly proclaims its place in the Revolutionary War, and tours take visitors to numerous historical landmarks. This history contrasts with the history of Evanstown’s newest residents who hail from Central and South Amer­i­ca, some without documentation. Students’ descriptions of their neighborhoods and of the town echoed the strug­gles of Evanstown to r­ eally define itself. Unlike Park City students, who took ­great pride in their town’s liberalness, students had l­ittle to say about Evanstown. Students who lived in Evanstown center described it as more “urban” and noisier. Bryna, a Black young w ­ oman who had lived in dif­fer­ent areas of Evanstown, described her current neighborhood. I mean it’s a nice neighborhood. It’s . . . ​not like living in the Summit where it ­isn’t safe. It’s not like that. I w ­ on’t say it’s dangerous but it’s just like, I ­wouldn’t walk even by myself around the area. It’s only just like, Black p­ eople and Spanish5 ­people and but it’s just not very, like, not where you would be by yourself. It’s not like Urban City [though].

Other students who lived in Abby Station, a neighborhood on the border of Evanstown and Evanstown Township, and in Evans Fields described their

20  •  Divergent Paths to College

neighborhoods as typical and quiet. Keith, a White se­nior, had lived in Evans Fields his ­whole life and described his neighborhood as: “A lot of old retired ­people. It is the wealthier side of the town I’ll say that.” Similarly, Maggie, an Asian-­A merican, said about Abby Station: “It’s r­ eally a quiet neighborhood. ­We’re off a busy, busyish road, but it’s not, down our street, ­there are barely ever any cars. Most of our neighbors are older ­people. . . . ​But it’s not one of ­those neighborhoods where you see kids r­ unning around, more just quiet t­ here.” Similar to lacking strong feelings about their town, students did not see Evanstown itself as particularly diverse, or note that as a source of pride. Some like Laura, a Latina who lived in an apartment in Evanstown, felt her neighborhood was diverse, whereas o­ thers like J. T., a Black young man who lived in a ­house in a “quiet” neighborhood on a cul-­de-­sac in Evanstown, noted, “My ­family is the only minority f­ amily on the block.” Evanstown High School is a highly successful high school with similar graduation rates and test scores as Park City High School. However, Evanstown has a more ethnically diverse student population at about 61  ­percent White, 15 ­percent Black, 20 ­percent Latino, and 4 ­percent Asian. Many students like Anna, White, noted the benefits of attending such a diverse school. “I like it. Just cause I am friends with ­people who go to private schools or who live in towns and t­ here’s no diversity t­ here. And I w ­ ouldn’t like that at all.” Most students had a positive view of the school overall, like Hannah,6 who had attended a Catholic school up ­until eighth grade. “Transitioning into a public school was ­really scary at first, but I love it. I would never want to go to a dif­fer­ent school.” At first the schools and towns seemed dif­f er­ent to me, in their racial/ethnic compositions, town cultures and identities (or lack thereof), and school practices and policies; however, the schools ­were almost identical in one, very impor­tant aspect of their cultures: the way in which college dominated almost all aspects of the school. The pressures put on students to get into college echoed across the twenty miles and local identities that separated ­these two high-­achieving school districts. Ashley, a White, moderate-­achieving, first-­ generation college student, spent much of her interview talking about the pressure she felt to go to college. She said about Evanstown High School: “It’s fun but it can r­ eally be stressful. I have a heavy course load . . . ​and it’s hard if you play sports to juggle keeping your grades up and every­thing, and t­ here’s a lot of pressure to do well.” Ashely felt the pressure from Like your friends, your ­family. I know my ­family, my parents ­didn’t go to college, like, t­ here’s a lot of pressure. And then, I guess it’s just the school that they want you to do well, so, t­ here’s always the emphasis on standardized testing and your placement. And the teachers r­ eally want you to do well and also, all my friends and I pretty much have the same GPA. So, ­there’s, not like competition but you ­don’t want to be failing at class and your friend, have an A.

Every­one Goes to College • 21

Twenty miles away at Park City High School, high-­achieving Theo, a White young man with two college-­educated parents noted: “I think it’s just part of the environment h ­ ere. If you do well in school, ­there is so much pressure on you just to go to college. It just seems like it’s the norm and ­there ­doesn’t seem to be many other options than college.” That pressure came from all sides. “I think when it’s straightforward pressure it’s only from your peers, but I think parents definitely, like, incorporate some sly comments e­ very once in a while or kind of brainwash you to think, like, ‘Oh, college is a­ fter school of course.’ ­After high school, it’s just more school.” Hester, another high-­achieving White student at Park City High School with college-­educated parents noted: “­People just get so worked up and every­one around us is making [the college application pro­cess] into a bigger ­thing than it is and making it so pressure packed, and like the essays, and the scores and the competitiveness. I mean, this school with competition, it’s like, p­ eople know every­body ­else’s scores.” The college culture created an intense pressure at both schools—­students felt that they needed to go to college, and not just any college, but a four-­year college, and a highly selective one at that. Few alternatives w ­ ere discussed besides college, creating even more pressure. Despite a college-­centric school culture, however, ­there w ­ ere vast inequities among students in their amount of cultural knowledge. Every­one wanted to go to college, but not every­one knew how to get ­there.

College-­for-­All While initially I was looking for differences in the schools, I came to see that in the context of the college application pro­cess, t­ hese schools ­were more alike than not. The college culture permeated almost e­ very aspect of the schools, and deeply influenced students’ experiences during the application pro­cess. In the end, this culture overshadowed the schools’ local identities. This all-­ encompassing college culture mirrors what has been g­oing on across the nation. The “college-­for-­all” norm has permeated many high schools, emphasizing that all students should attend college. Many argue that “college-­for-­ all” opens up doors, and may even inspire students to work harder in high school if they believe that ­others have confidence in them and that college ­really is an option.7 However, o­ thers argue that the push for college access has come without a concurrent push for an increase in college preparation. James Rosenbaum argues that the college-­for-­all norm ignores the fact that many high school gradu­ates are not prepared for the academic challenges of higher education.8 Many times, students aspire to attend postsecondary education, but do not understand the academic challenges they ­will face.9 In addition, students do not always have clear occupational plans driving their college aspirations, or they lack correct information about the amount of

22  •  Divergent Paths to College

education needed for their chosen ­career.10 It is impor­tant to note that low-­ income and minority youth are more likely to lack information about college, ­careers, and how to make well-­aligned postsecondary plans.11 ­Today, youths have high ambitions but do not know what they are getting into, leading to a highly, and perhaps overly, ambitious generation.12 In line with ­these high ambitions, the majority of high school gradu­ates do attend college at some point ­after high school.13 Many fewer actually gradu­ate from college, however. This creates what Rosenbaum calls the “new forgotten half ”—­those students who enter college, particularly two-­year community colleges, but never obtain a credential. Th ­ ese youths end up with “some college,” but no degree, which brings no increase in earnings.14 In fact, many times this leads to a cycle of students entering and leaving college, and despite all evidence to the contrary, doggedly believing they w ­ ill (and must) earn a postsecondary degree to truly be valued in ­today’s society.15

High-­Achieving Contexts with High Expectations High schools play a critical role in encouraging students’ college ambitions, but do not always provide them with all the information necessary to make well-­informed postsecondary decisions. In the past, high school guidance counselors used to take on the role of “cooling out” aspirations among low-­ achieving students, citing the admissions standards of schools.16 However, with increased negative attention focused on this gatekeeping role, and the open admissions policies of community colleges, guidance counselors now encourage students’ high ambitions and are unwilling to dash students’ dreams.17 Unfortunately, neither gatekeeping nor unqualified college-­for-­all messaging tends to benefit students, particularly less advantaged students who need college guidance the most.18 When I began observing at Park City and Evanstown high schools, I was interested in understanding the messages they sent about college and particularly w ­ hether college r­ eally was for all at t­ hese diverse schools. Despite differences in student racial composition, community culture, and organ­ization of the guidance program, the similarities between the two college cultures ­were remarkable. This culture permeated the schools—­from the walls that ­were covered in college banners to the announcements of scholarships and the SAT word of the day to the daily conversations among ju­niors and se­niors that centered around who was applying where and w ­ hether they got in. E ­ very ele­ment of the schools nudged students ­toward college aspirations. Both schools hosted from thirty to fifty individual college representative visits by admissions officers each fall, sometimes hosting three or four schools per day. Both schools also had vari­ous college fairs, where fifty to seventy-­five schools would attend. In one year, I attended six dif­fer­ent college fairs across both schools, from the

Every­one Goes to College • 23

typical college fair held in the fall hosting every­thing from community colleges to Ivy League schools to the football college fair held at Evanstown High School attended by students, their parents, and sports recruiters, to the Instant Decision Days held at Park City High School, where community colleges, trade schools, and less and nonselective four-­year colleges “interviewed” students and gave them a decision on the spot. Each school held a variety of other college-­related events, such as essay-­writing workshops at Park City High School and mock admissions workshops at Evanstown High School. Both counseling programs prided themselves on meeting with students at least once a year, starting freshman year or earlier, and college was always part of the conversation. In an interview with Ms. Coriander, a counselor at Evanstown High School, I asked her to tell me about some of the things that the guidance program did to help prepare students for the college application pro­cess. I mean, we start in eighth grade . . . ​a s far as driving in that e­ very single year counts. . . . ​We do have ­those conversations as early as the eighth grade . . . ​even as far as making sure y­ ou’re involved in your high school community and local community as far as extracurriculars and building an activity resume that would make you a good candidate for colleges as well. So we start the conversation in, I would say, eighth grade and then e­ very year, ­there’s a ­little bit more added on to it.

Even before students got to high school, t­ here was already a push to attend college and to think ahead to what kinds of courses and extracurricular activities would look good to colleges. This focus on college was evident e­ very year ­after, as each subsequent counselor meeting centered around college, ­whether it was exploring the school’s college software database and taking c­ areer and personality inventories sophomore year or ­going over a testing schedule and the application pro­cess itself ju­nior year. Se­nior year, the guidance department focused on making sure that all students applied to college. Mr. Whitmore, a counselor at Park City High School, explained that the staff spent a lot of time trying to reach ­those students who ­were b­ ehind in the college pro­cess and in December would come up with a list of students who had not applied and encourage them to apply somewhere. While observing at Evanstown High School in April, counselors told me about a list the guidance director was creating of all se­niors who had not applied to any schools. As ­these administrative tasks indicate, making sure as many students applied to college as pos­si­ble was a high priority in the counseling department. Students at both schools also indicated how much college was a part of the culture at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School. Some students mentioned how the way the schools ­were or­ga­nized and the freedoms that they already had made them feel as though they ­were being prepared for college. Carrie told me:

24  •  Divergent Paths to College

We have clubs and every­thing, and that’s another t­ hing—it seems like Park City’s definitely a minicollege sort of b­ ecause when you want to form a club ­here or something, the school w ­ ill support you . . . ​and if you want to be in a course but the course ­isn’t offered, they are willing to accommodate your needs, and if you need guidance or anything, it’s like we have advisers h ­ ere and guidance counselors are helpful, so it’s sort of like a minicollege experience, which is good.

Similarly, when asked what his favorite ­thing about the school was, James, a Black, low-­achieving se­nior at Evanstown High School, whose parents ­were college educated, said: “It’s a lot more freedom . . . ​as far as picking classes . . . ​it’s a lot more up to you, preparing you for college, t­ here’s a lot more on you than it is on the administrators and the teachers and stuff. So they give you more of a precollege feel.” Some students praised the “precollege experience” their high schools gave them, but o­ thers felt stressed by the constant pressure put on them by parents, friends, and the school to be thinking about college. MEGAN:  ​So, how are you feeling right now about the ­whole college search

pro­cess? ANNA:  ​I think it’s more work than it should be. I think especially nowadays it’s all anyone talks about, so from the second you get into high school . . . ​I feel like it ­shouldn’t be that much, I ­don’t think it should be all about college all the time b­ ecause I think it freaks p­ eople out and makes some, like, feel like . . . ​I need to go to college.

The school stressed college-­for-­a ll, and parents did as well. It is likely that parental pressure, especially from upper m ­ iddle class parents, influenced the schools to adopt such a college-­going mentality. When talking with Mr. Whitmore about parent involvement, he mentioned how the same parents who hold screenings of documentaries lamenting the pressure on students to succeed nowadays also contribute to that pressure. He said: “Would they let their kids go nowhere? Absolutely not. State University is nowhere for their kids. And that’s the irony of it.” Ms. Carbide, a counselor at Evanstown High School, related a recent exchange she had with a parent of a sixth grader who had called the high school wanting to have a meeting to plan her ­daughter’s high school schedule. Students also talked a lot about parental pressure. Harriet, a White, high-­achieving se­nior at Park City High School, whose parents ­were college educated, said in her interview: HARRIE T:  ​I think it’s more of a culture. . . . ​W hen I was ­little, whenever I’d be

crying or something, my dad’s ­thing was to say: “Harriet, stop ­doing that. Stop throwing food at the wall. Other­wise, you w ­ ill not get into the college

Every­one Goes to College • 25

of your choice.” And he still thinks that’s funny. He cracks himself up. But I’ve always known. I was expected to do well. They d­ on’t take kindly to my shenanigans. MEGAN:  ​How did you know you wanted to go to college? HARRIE T:  ​Oh, no. ­There’s no choice. I’m ­going to college. You ­don’t seem to understand this. It’s not that I wanted to go to college. I’ve always been told that I’ll go to college. This is the progression in someone’s life; you go to college. I’m ­going to college. It’s just depends on what tier or level of college I ­will get into.

For many students like Harriet, it was such a given that they would attend college, they could not ­really understand why I was asking how they came to that decision. Another student echoed Harriet’s statement that I just “did not seem to understand.” Keith told me that I just “­didn’t get it” when I asked him what would happen if he pursued an alternate postsecondary path. MEGAN:  ​How did you decide that you wanted to go to college? K EI T H:  ​It ­wasn’t even an option of not wanting to. It’s just my ­family. ­They’re

hot-­wired. ­You’re ­going to college. ­There was no “if,” it’s “­you’re ­going.” MEGAN:  ​What if you ­didn’t go? K EI T H:  ​That’s not an option. You ­don’t get it. That’s not an option. My ­family

would beat me senseless and then send me to Community.

Students whose parents had not earned a college degree still felt pressure to go on to higher education. Bill, a high-­achieving Black ju­nior at Evanstown High School who lived with his ­mother who had not graduated from college said: “Not many p­ eople in my f­ amily go to college, so that would be a very big ­thing. My f­ amily . . . ​­there’s a lot of, ‘pressure’ might not be the word, but a lot of ­people have faith in me in my ­family, you know, I’m like the ­family smart person.” Across social background, almost ­every student I talked with planned on attending college.19 Most students assumed that ­there was ­little choice but to attend college ­after high school. As Keith and Harriet’s exasperated responses to my questions indicated, not attending was not an option. Bill felt similarly when I asked what would happen if for some reason he did not attend. “It would mean something went ­really bad. I ­don’t know why I ­wouldn’t go to college. Something that would be, like, ­really bad or I d­ on’t know . . . ​­unless for some reason someone offered me, like, a g­ reat job or something, like at NASA, like I ­don’t know.” Bill, like most students at Evanstown and Park City high schools, could not imagine the idea of not attending college.

26  •  Divergent Paths to College

College Dreams Students’ aspirations have risen to meet the demands of the “college-­for-­a ll” norm. From 1980 to 2002, the percentage of students who expected to attend college nearly doubled from 43 ­percent to 85 ­percent, and that increase was even greater among students whose parents had not graduated college.20 ­Today, college attendance is almost a universal aspiration. Although more and more students are displaying college aspirations regardless of social background, scholars have still tied how and why ­those aspirations are formed to students’ socioeconomic backgrounds. In their study of a sample of high school sophomores, Eric Grodsky and Catherine Riegle-­Crumb noted that t­ here are two types of students: t­ hose who had “always known” that they ­were g­ oing to go to college and ­those who could recall weighing their options and making a decision to attend.21 ­Those students who had “always known” ­were mostly White with college-­ educated parents, and exhibited a “college-­going habitus.” In contrast to Grodsky and Riegle-­Crumb, I found most students expressed similar sentiments in that they had always known they would go to college and always considered it the next logical step, regardless of parental education levels. While some of this was due to high parental expectations across social background, it was also likely a result of the college-­going cultures in both schools. I did find that students differed in how they explained their aspirations, however. While students whose parents ­were college educated described attending college as a natu­ral progression in their ­family, students who anticipated being the first in their families to go to college described wanting to start a new f­ amily tradition. When I asked Eliza, a high-­achieving White ju­nior at Park City High School, whose parents w ­ ere both college educated, how she deci­ded she wanted to go to college, she said: “I never even thought it was a choice. I just always knew that I was ­going to college. Definitely in my ­family, it’s sort of assumed that ­you’re ­going to college.” Students whose parents did not gradu­ate from college also mentioned not having a choice b­ ecause their parents wanted very much for them to attend. They further explained that their desire to go stemmed from the fact that attending college was not necessarily the natu­ral progression in their f­ amily and that they wanted to be the first to attend and gradu­ate. When I asked Tyreke, a low-­achieving Black ju­nior at Evanstown High School, whose parents did not gradu­ate college, if he had deci­ded to attend to college, he said, “I have to go to college.” When I asked him how he came to that decision, he said: Every­body in my ­family went to college, but they never finished it. I would like to be the first person to finish it in my f­ amily. Not in my ­family, I have p­ eople who have finished college; ­we’re talking about who I live with. My mom ­didn’t finish college. But she had this good job; she was working ­there for the longest,

Every­one Goes to College • 27

but then they found out that she d­ idn’t finish college, she ­didn’t have any degrees so she got fired.

Students also valued college for slightly dif­fer­ent reasons. Students whose parents did not gradu­ate from college tended to see higher education as a means to an end, something that had to be done to get a degree, a good job, and a successful ­future. When I asked Asha, a Black se­nior at Evanstown High School, whose parents did not gradu­ate from college, where she saw herself in five years, she said, I want to be successful . . . ​my [purpose] for college is [that it is] ­going to help me get money and then I just hope that it ­doesn’t shut down the business or something . . . ​when I do [get] a job. So, hopefully, it could take me somewhere. So, I see myself working with fashion, with clothes at someone’s com­pany. Have a ­really good job, my own ­house, ­things like that, the good life.

Asha saw college as a way to ensure success and as a pathway to a stable job. ­Later, when I asked her how she deci­ded she wanted to go to college, she said: “Well, I know that I d­ on’t just want to be anybody or be a nobody. . . . ​But I want to be able to have a good job when I’m older. I want to make money. I want to be able to provide for my ­family when I have a ­family.” Students whose parents w ­ ere college educated tended to see college as a way to grow up, obtain freedom, and have a good time. When I asked Andrew, a White se­nior at Park City High School whose parents w ­ ere college educated, what ­going to college would mean to him, he replied: What w ­ ill ­going to college mean to me? I mean hopefully it w ­ ill mean that I learn ­things even faster and I have a lot of fun ­doing it. It w ­ ill also mean hopefully less hand holding and . . . ​more being treated like an adult. . . . ​A nd it ­will also be a cool opportunity to meet ­people kind of regardless, meet ­people in a totally dif­fer­ent context, like every­one ­here [at college] is ­really interested in learning and so we can kind of connect over that and I guess to a lesser degree, it w ­ ill be in­ter­est­ing not being around my f­ amily and seeing what that’s like for [an] extended period of time.

More advantaged students viewed college less as a way to obtain a job and more as an experience to have. This is also reflected in the fact that more advantaged students ­were less sure of what they wanted to study in college, whereas first-­ generation college students had a par­tic­u­lar major in mind.22 Park City and Evanstown high schools both cultivated highly salient college cultures that influenced students’ everyday experiences. In addition, many students had parents who communicated their high educational aspirations. Despite ­these similarities, students from dif­fer­ent social backgrounds had

28  •  Divergent Paths to College

very dif­fer­ent college application experiences and outcomes. This represents a departure from the status attainment tradition in so­cio­log­i­cal research, which has always put a g­ reat deal of emphasis on the influence of individual and parental aspirations on educational attainment.23 For de­cades, aspirations ­were seen as a critical point of departure between ­those who ­were academically successful, and ­those who w ­ ere not. However, a classic study by Jay ­MacLeod24 on peer cultures among low-­income young men called some of this into question, finding that the structural forces that tend ­toward the reproduction of in­equality w ­ ere more power­ful than high aspirations for low-­ income youth. When interviewing youths in high school, ­MacLeod found that White, working-­class masculine culture devalued d­ oing well in school. Th ­ ese young men w ­ ere aware of the structures that limited their educational and economic opportunities—­they saw that their class culture was not valued in schools and that their families and neighbors could not get ahead no m ­ atter how hard they tried, so they lowered their aspirations. However, M ­ acLeod also interviewed Black working-­class young men who did have high educational aspirations, and believed that they could surpass their parents’ economic circumstances now that they had more opportunities. Nevertheless, when ­MacLeod followed up with them eight years l­ater, youths with both high and low aspirations w ­ ere stuck in similar, depressed financial circumstances. ­MacLeod’s and other studies indicate that high aspirations alone are not enough to translate into social mobility. Educational aspirations need to be aligned with ­career goals.25 Students need realistic and accurate information about their academic preparedness and chances of success in college.26 They also need access to critical cultural knowledge about how the college application pro­cess works, how to access information and opportunities regarding ­careers, and how to be successful in college once they get ­there.27 This is not to say that aiming high is problematic; on the contrary, it is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for higher educational attainment. However, can high aspirations in combination with low information be harmful to students’ educational mobility? Recent research suggests that this might be the case. When students attend two-­year colleges, but are not academically prepared, they drop out, leading to no credential and educational debt.28 Lack of information can make very low-­income youths susceptible to the marketing of for-­profit trade schools in an attempt to reach their vocationally oriented dreams. However, youths still rarely gain a credential, but rack up debt.29

The Stigma of Community College Lacking critical cultural knowledge about college and the college application pro­cess, in combination with a strong determination that college was the only

Every­one Goes to College • 29

option, became problematic for some of the most disadvantaged students at Park City and Evanstown high schools. They felt significant pressure to attend college, but faced a social stigma surrounding attending less than four-­year schools. All students bought into the “college-­for-­a ll” norm, no m ­ atter their social background. For counselors and the school, the push was for any college for students—­two-­or four-­year (though four-­year colleges ­were talked about in classrooms and at college events much more than two-­year ones). And ­either of t­ hese college options was pushed over other alternatives. When interviewing Shireen at Park City High School, an intern in the guidance department, she told me that counselors ­were not supposed to bring up vocational schools to students as postsecondary alternatives; they ­were only supposed to focus on college. At Evanstown, the college and ­career counselor told me he ­really did not have adequate knowledge to advise students on ­careers and he focused mostly on college application workshops and counseling. However, he also found ­little interest in the “­career” side of his job title among students. A ­career fair was supposed to be held one year while I was observing and was then canceled due to lack of interest. Even when t­ here was interest, the information and options presented at career-­oriented events w ­ ere not always very useful. Park City High School held a “Virtual ­Career Fair” in the spring for ju­niors and se­niors; however, the “fair” mostly consisted of students applying for jobs at retail stores online in the library. At both schools ­there was a lack of attention paid to discussing c­ areers and vocational opportunities, and this clearly did not receive the time or resources that college-­focused activities did. This focus on college was successful in encouraging all students to aim for higher education. The high aspirations w ­ ere not just for any form of postsecondary education, however. Although the schools had a very diverse student body, about 75 ­percent of graduating se­niors attended four-­year schools. (See t­ able 1.) Many high-­achieving students attended some of the most selective universities in the country. Where a student went was very impor­tant, not just for each student’s college experience, but also ­because college destinations ­were publicized. At Park City High School, college destinations w ­ ere printed in the town newspaper, and at Evanstown High School students’ ac­cep­tances ­were posted outside of the guidance office. Students cared a ­great deal about this publicity. Felicity, a low-­achieving Black se­nior whose parents had not graduated from college, told me that she made sure another counselor knew of her ac­cep­tances since she did not think her own counselor would post her “star” with her ac­cep­tance on the bulletin board outside the counseling office. Harriet explained how the names of every­one who got into State University w ­ ere posted online. She had applied to the main, more prestigious campus, and also to one of the less selective campuses in Urban City. She

30  •  Divergent Paths to College

­Table 1

Postsecondary destinations Destination

Four-­year Two-­year Vocational Work/other Unknown Total a

Sample total (2010– 2011 and 2011–2012)

Sample percentage

Park City High School and Evanstown High School (2010–2011)a

61 18 4 2 1 86

71% 21% 5% 2% 1% 100%

75% 17% 3% 5% (0.5% Evanstown High School) 100%

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

C

.

.

Percentages are rounded to preserve confidentiality.

described what the reaction was when ­people found out she got into State University-­Urban. Somewhere online now, apparently, Park City High School [has] the list of p­ eople who got into State. Check it out, I d­ on’t know. Every­one’s making fun of me, so it must be ­there somewhere that every­one’s been looking at it. . . . ​every­one’s making fun of me ­because I’m the only person who got into State–­Urban ­because no one ­else applied to State–­Urban, or wants to go to State–­Urban. I ­don’t even want to go to State–­Urban but I just checked off the box ­because it was t­ here.

The pressure to get into the best school pos­si­ble with the right name affected students across achievement levels. Lisa, a moderate-­achieving White student at Evanstown High School, is an only child and lives with her ­mother and ­father. I met Lisa through one of her friends whom I also interviewed and she was very open and talkative from the beginning, sharing her thoughts, positive and negative, about ­every aspect of the school. Lisa confidently explained to me the social structure of Evanstown High School and said about her group of sixteen girlfriends: “I guess p­ eople would think that w ­ e’re popu­lar but p­ eople also think w ­ e’re bitches, which is not true ­because w ­ e’re all dif­fer­ent. Definitely some of us are bitches.” Lisa’s social confidence belied her academic insecurities, however. She described herself as an “average” student and compared herself to her friends. “Well, my friends have like 3.8s and 4.2s [GPAs]. I have 3.3. And they all are pretty smart and I’m not that smart or—­I mean I could be if I wanted to be, but I ­don’t want to be.” She followed up l­ ater: “My friends are r­ eally smart, they do good in school. I always just joke about how I d­ on’t do good.” Lisa’s feelings of inadequacy regarding her academic per­for­mance manifested themselves in her (and her parents’) devotion to completing the college application pro­cess very early in her se­nior year. Lisa and her ­mother spent an

Every­one Goes to College • 31

hour ­every day working on college applications over the summer, which she believed helped her get into college. “I knew I ­didn’t have, like, some of the grades that my friends have, 4.0s, 4.2s. I have like 3.2 or 3.3. So, if I got my application out earlier and put [in for] early admissions, like, that’s why I got in, ­because I was one of the first ones.” She felt that she had to apply early to give herself a better chance. “Maybe not if you are ­really smart and you apply but I’m average so if they get one of mine first rather than in December, they would be, like, ‘Oh, she r­ eally wants to go h ­ ere blah blah blah.’ I guess that is better.” Some of Lisa’s determination to assure herself a spot at a desirable school was likely driven by the pressure she felt from her parents regarding college attendance and particularly which type of school she attended. When I asked her how she deci­ded she wanted to go to college she said: “I have to. I ­don’t have a choice. My parents would basically prob­ably disown me if I ­didn’t go. I want to go, I mean I want the college experience. I want to be able to be ­there and party and learn my way around and get an apartment or something like that. I want to go.” Not attending college would not just mean that Lisa had disappointed her parents but would also signal a moral failing. “That would mean I would not be good. I would be a lowlife. That’s what my dad says. . . . ​I would have to go to County. I w ­ ouldn’t even—­I would get kicked out of the ­house. I ­wouldn’t even know where I would go.” For Lisa, the thought of having to attend County (a two-­year community college) was almost as bad as not attending college at all, and was “not even an option.” Although Lisa continually painted herself as “less than” for not having as high a GPA as her friends, she was a moderate-­achieving student with an SAT score just slightly below the mean at Evanstown High School and above the 50th  percentile for the state. However, the standards at her school ­were very high and the pressure on students to get into very competitive colleges was ­great. This contributed to “average” students like Lisa feeling defeated and desperate to get into a good enough school and avoid lower-­status options. This was evident in Lisa’s attitude ­toward “County.” For many students, community college was seen as a last-­ditch option, just slightly better than not attending college at all, and as something highly undesirable. The focus for many students was on status. Lisa, despite professing to be average and to not care very much about school, was still very worried that she would not get into a “good” school. ­These high standards led almost all students to focus on getting into a four-­ year college and few to consider community college as an acceptable option. When anyone could attend a two-­year school, which was open admissions, it brought no status. Therefore, among students, “college-­for-­all” developed into “four-­year college-for-all” and community college developed a stigma.30 Since in t­ hese students’ minds, “every­one” went to college, attending a community college, where just “anyone” could go was unacceptable for most students. Lebron, a Black se­nior at Park City High School, whose parents had gone to

32  •  Divergent Paths to College

college, felt a lot of pressure to go to college, and said that attending a community college was not r­ eally acceptable. L EBRON:  ​And in Park City, if you ­didn’t have your stuff in, like, SAT, ­people

­will look at you some type of way, like, “What are you d­ oing?” MEGAN:  ​Uh-­huh. P ­ eople like the students or the teachers? L EBRON:  ​Yeah, the students ­because every­body goes to college a­ fter high school. MEGAN:  ​Every­one goes to college? L EBRON:  ​Yeah. It’s hard to explain yourself by saying, oh, I ­didn’t hand in no

application yet. Th ­ ey’ll look down upon you or something. But you never know what—­what they could be ­going through, what­ever. Or if ­you’re ­going to a community college, too . . . ​­you’ve got to go to a university. MEGAN:  ​Uh-­huh. So, it’s not good to go to a community college? L EBRON:  ​Well, I guess if you have to. But ­they’ll consider that like as a failure.

Similarly, Felicity would not consider attending a community college b­ ecause of the social ramifications. She said, “[My counselor] just talks about Cedar County31, Cedar County, like, I am not ­going t­ here, I ­don’t care.” Even though Felicity admitted that ­going to community college for two years and then transferring might be a good option, she said, “You d­ on’t want to go t­here ­because p­ eople ­will make fun of you, but like, I know it’s a good school, but I ­can’t go.” Some students also mentioned that their parents would not consider community college a desirable college destination. Sophie, a high-­ achieving biracial ju­nior at Park City High School whose parents did not gradu­ate from college, said that college had always been a topic of conversation while she was growing up. “When I was l­ ittle, I would be like, ‘Oh, where do you want me to go to college?’ and stuff like that. I guess they d­ idn’t r­ eally care when I was ­little, but obviously [my mom] thought I must go to a good college and I’m not ­going to Prince County College.” Counselors at the schools also acknowledged the stigma attached to ­going to “County.” One counselor with whom I spoke at Evanstown High School, Ms. Heartstone, said: “­There’s a stigma ­here against ­going to Cedar County College even though we have one of the best [community colleges] in the nation. Encouraging them to go to County is met with lots of re­sis­tance and a negative perception of who the kids are [who go ­there] I think. I think that perception impedes their ability to be realistic about their options, [which is] kind of unfortunate.” She followed up by saying that the stigma associated with community college had its origins in “ignorance, yeah ignorance and apathy I think. Yeah, ­because I think kids think only the kids who are not as smart or who ­can’t make it at a four-­year college ­will go to County, but clearly that’s not the case.” The counselor said that not considering County was a prob­lem for students since they may not be successful in a four-­year school or may be missing out on the g­ reat pro-

Every­one Goes to College • 33

grams available at the community college. When I asked Ms. Radford, a counselor at Park City High School, if t­here was a stigma attached to community college or if she felt a push back from students when she suggested it, she said: ­ ere’s definitely a stigma I’ve noticed, and it’s something you kind of have to Th approach in a sensitive way with students. You kind of—oh again, refer back to the hard numbers with them. And you open it up by saying, “Well, where are you considering g­ oing?” and kind of put it on them at first, and then that’s when you can go to the hard numbers and you kind of suggest, “Well, it might be a good idea, you know, just as a fall back plan to consider applying to some two-­year schools or community college.”

Although the college environments at the schools had cultivated a stigma t­ oward attending community college, some students did choose early on to attend a two-­year school. About half of the students in my sample who did attend community college, made that choice e­ ither ju­nior year or early se­nior year (nine out of seventeen who attended community college). Th ­ ese students ­were low achievers and unsure of their academic strengths. They seemed to give ­little thought to the college pro­cess and chose community college almost by default. For example, Matt, a moderate-­achieving Black se­nior at Evanstown High School whose f­ather had graduated college, had known since ju­nior year that he was ­going to go to Cedar County College (CCC). I interviewed him three times over the course of his ju­nior and se­nior years and he mentioned CCC each time. Matt knew ­little about CCC, however, or about college in general. He had “chosen” community college, but never r­ eally considered any options. Matt seemed to treat ­going to community college as a way to essentially not make a choice, since he had not considered alternatives, did not know what he was ­going to major in, and was not sure what he wanted to do for a c­ areer. Amy, a White, moderate-­achieving se­nior at Evanstown High School, whose m ­ other had graduated college, also chose early on to go to CCC. Amy’s “choice” was also a way for her to avoid making any long-­term decisions. Amy had a learning disability and had recently transferred to Evanstown High School. She found it large and intimidating, and the classes w ­ ere very difficult for her. She was not confident in her academic abilities, and although she would have liked to attend a four-­year school, she was certain she would not do well. Amy was not even sure if she would be able to make it in community college and had no other plans aside from that.

Knowing How to Get ­There At both schools, the college culture was successful at raising students’ aspirations; however, in ­today’s competitive college admission atmosphere, aspirations

34  •  Divergent Paths to College

only go so far. To get into the most selective colleges, students need to have cultural knowledge of the college application pro­cess. This includes knowledge about dif­fer­ent types of colleges and degrees, what is required to apply to college (including what courses and standardized tests to take), and most impor­tant, how to access information about the pro­cess. Th ­ ose with high cultural knowledge most likely engage in “college enhancement strategies,” such as taking AP classes and seeking out leadership positions;32 demanding help with applications from school counselors, parents, and private college counselors;33 and placing high value on selective schools.34 Although they ­were exposed to a similar school culture, within the schools ­there ­were differences between students in their cultural knowledge regarding the college application pro­cess. Due to the high correlation of race and class in both the schools and in my study, it is difficult to disentangle t­ hese ­factors, and it appears that both minority students and ­those whose parents ­were not college educated strug­gled the most in navigating the college pro­cess. Students who had two college-­educated parents seemed to fare the best in navigating the pro­cess. In general, many disadvantaged students ­were unclear about how to approach the pro­cess. Laura, a Latina, moderate-­achieving ju­nior at Evanstown High School whose parents w ­ ere not college educated, wanted very much to go to college, but lacked basic knowledge such as the difference between two-­and four-­year schools. Laura did not know what steps she would need to complete to apply and although she had signed up for the SATs, they w ­ ere still shrouded in mystery for her. Similarly, Amy, who was planning on attending CCC, had ­little knowledge of the college pro­cess her se­nior year. Asking her what students needed to do to get into college resulted in the following exchange: AM Y:  ​Have good grades; finish all the applications on time and every­thing.

I’m not r­ eally sure what ­else to do b­ ecause me and my f­ amily—no one, like my b­ rother ­hasn’t gone to college, so I ­really ­don’t know what the t­ hing is, to do that, so. MEGAN:  ​Do you know what the steps are in applying to college? AM Y:  ​Getting an application and then filling it out, sending it back to them, I guess. I ­don’t know.

Like Amy, Ashley, a Black, moderate-­achieving se­nior at Park City High School, was unclear on a number of aspects of the college pro­cess. I met Ashley in March of her se­nior year. She is a talkative, out­going and friendly young ­woman. Her ­father happened to be dropping off a scholarship form for her when we w ­ ere d­ oing our interview and he was just as friendly and welcoming as Ashley, chatting with me about my interviews. Ashley’s f­ ather had attended a four-year university on a football scholarship and her ­mother received her

Every­one Goes to College • 35

associate’s degree from the local community college.35 Ashley was one of six siblings and the second oldest. Her older ­brother was more than ten years her se­nior and Ashley was not sure if he had attended college. Ashley was very determined to go to college and explained how she deci­ded that she wanted to attend by saying, “I knew I wanted to go to college ­because I looked at dif­fer­ent ­people who ­didn’t go to college from my ­family . . . ​­they’re not ­doing well at all, ­they’re r­ eally struggling to stay ­here or struggling to feed their ­family and stuff like that.” Despite her college aspirations, Ashley, like Lisa at Evanstown, wished she had a higher GPA and did not view herself as competitive enough for many schools. Unlike Lisa, however, Ashley was incredibly confused about the college pro­cess and this contributed to her lack of confidence. “­There are times where I was, like, you know what, I d­ on’t care anymore. It was ­because I ­didn’t have so much confidence in myself. . . . ​I’m like, I’m just ­going to go to Prince County College even though I d­ on’t want to. I’m just ­going to go t­ here and be stuck h ­ ere for the rest of my life in Park City with my parents even if I d­ on’t want to.” Ashley’s ­family was overall very supportive of her college aspirations. They had very ­little to offer in terms of cultural knowledge, however. She said, “It was like they knew, but they ­really ­didn’t know.” Regarding the SATs, her ­father said: “I remember when I took my SATs or something like that and I ­didn’t know anything about it, we d­ idn’t have all this stuff, ­these preps and t­ hese books,” and my mom’s like, “I never took the SATs, I ­don’t think, I d­ on’t know.” My mom barely remembers anything in the past, but, yeah, that’s how it is with them. They ­really ­don’t know so much about the pro­cess or what goes on, but they know that what­ever it takes to get ­there, ­they’ll help me to get t­ here.

Unfortunately, this led to many false starts and an overwhelming sense of confusion for Ashley as she tried to negotiate the college pro­cess. Ashley told me how her ju­nior year she did not know that the SATs ­were a part of applying to college ­because she thought it was more like applying for a job—­you just fill out an application. Ashley said: b­ ecause I ­wasn’t ­really ­going to take them [the SATs], I ­really w ­ asn’t. I’m, like, I just apply like a job. I’m thinking, just like the way you apply to a job, you apply to a college. I d­ idn’t know ­there ­were so many t­ hings ­behind it like application fees and the recommendations. . . . ​I ­didn’t know it was so much ­behind in the transcripts and this and that and the pro­cess takes weeks or so. I was like, oh, shit, no. It’s like application, for fifty dollars to get an application? What, why? So I thought it was like applying for a job. It’s totally dif­fer­ent from applying for a job.

36  •  Divergent Paths to College

Ashley did end up taking the SATs, but she did not study the first time and initially thought her score was “okay but I d­ idn’t know the highest score you can get.” She only realized how the SAT was scored when she heard other students comparing scores. This and other college conversations she overheard prompted Ashley to reach out to her counselor. Every­body was talking about their ac­cep­tances and stuff and I’m like, “Am I late, did I do something wrong? Was I supposed to apply during the summer? Like did I slack off, please tell me, please.” ­Because I remember getting stuff in the mail and it was, like, I still have the financial aid, apply now, apply now. I was, like, I d­ on’t want to do anything ­because I’m not sure I’m supposed to do this right now, like, I d­ on’t know how the pro­cess is supposed to go. Like I remember getting the information to do it, but it was, like, how, why, now, l­ ater, what, September, October? Now? So I would go to guidance. [My counselor] was, like, “No, it’s okay, ­you’re not ­behind, ­you’re okay, y­ ou’re okay, y­ ou’re okay.” I’m like, “No, I’m not okay.”

Ashley’s counselor told her not to worry and that applications ­were not due ­until ­later but did not tell her about Early Action or Early Decision deadlines, which ­were due earlier. I’m telling you, I r­ eally ­didn’t know about any of this stuff. I ­really wish I ­would’ve took advantage of that when it was t­ here, ­because a lot of kids, it was easy. . . . ​I w ­ ouldn’t say easier, but it was better for them to apply early than ­later, ­because by then, the schools already have their stuff, they have a lot of students and then when your applying in March, in January, it’s like you have a lesser chance to get into that school.

Unlike more advantaged students who strategized and applied early to increase their admissions chances (and to relieve some anxiety about the pro­ cess) like Lisa, Ashley did not have the cultural knowledge to engage in t­ hese practices. Ashley’s strug­gles continued as she tried to fill in missing college information on her own. “I would just literally just go on the internet and I’m, like, ok, what words, scholarships. Okay, some colleges for African American girls or what­ever. I was just typing t­ hings just to see what w ­ ill pop up.” Unfortunately, this strategy became problematic when she started to look into financial aid. “What is the FASFA, what is that? Okay, type it in. . . . ​I even went to the wrong website. I started applying for some FASFA and they wanted me to pay, and I was, like, I thought it was f­ ree. Well, I guess they said that to get you on the website and then I learned that it r­ eally was f­ ree, I just went to the wrong website.”

Every­one Goes to College • 37

All of t­ hese missteps made an already complicated pro­cess even more complex for Ashley. She knew that she did not know every­thing, but did not know what exactly she needed to find out. She tried turning to her parents, friends, counselors, and the internet, and strug­gled with gaining the information she needed. Ashley’s story is striking next to Lisa’s, who was also a moderate-­ achieving student and insecure about her academic achievement and ability to get into college. Lisa’s ­mother had access to cultural knowledge about the college application pro­cess, however, and worked with Lisa during the summer to finish applications early and send them out, in an effort to give her ­daughter a head start on the pro­cess. In the end, Lisa ended up attending a very competitive college, whereas Ashley attended a competitive college. Ashley’s confusion about the college pro­cess was not unusual for less advantaged students. Her dogged determination to figure out what she did not know was less common though. Many students did not know that ­there was more to the pro­cess or that t­ here was cultural knowledge they needed to figure out, ­until I asked about details in interviews. For example, during my interviews a number of students turned my questions about the SATs back on me.36 When talking with Tyreke, I asked him what he wanted to get on the SAT. The following exchange ensued: T Y REK E:  ​How’s it go again? The most you can get is what again? MEGAN:  ​On the SAT? T Y REK E:  ​Yeah. MEGAN:  ​­There are three dif­fer­ent sections. The most you can get on each

section is 800. T Y REK E:  ​I know I’m not g ­ oing to get no 800. I’m ­going to do normal, get a

normal score, just above normal score.

My interviews with more advantaged students, many of whom w ­ ere high-­ achieving, White, and had two college-­educated parents, ­were very dif­fer­ent. ­These students listed par­tic­u ­lar steps to take and discussed strategies for gaining admission at elite schools. When I asked Hester what someone her age needed to do to get into college, she responded by saying: HES T ER:  ​Just anyone my age? . . . ​Just any college or a top college? MEGAN:  ​Is ­there a difference? HES T ER:  ​Yes. Th ­ ere’s a big difference.

Hester then explained to me the difference between preparing to apply to a highly selective school versus “any college.” Hester’s knowledge that highly selective schools required a dif­fer­ent approach was also evident in my discussions with other students who talked about preparing for college early on by

38  •  Divergent Paths to College

joining clubs; taking the SATs, the ACTs, or both, multiple times; and writing specific kinds of essays. For example, Ronald, a high-­achieving White se­nior at Park City High School, whose parents w ­ ere both college educated, was interested in applying to highly selective institutions. He told me about multiple activities he had identified as easy ways to get leadership experiences that he could put on his applications. In talking about one, he said, “I d­ on’t think we ever had a meeting, but we get to put it on our applications.” More advantaged students also talked about taking par­tic­u­lar types of classes to be more competitive in the admissions pro­cess. Keith said about his se­nior class schedule, “I had to fill my slot with electives, but I d­ idn’t want to take the easy ones b­ ecause I knew I wanted to get into a good college.” Keith took a number of AP courses and more “academic” electives so that he could have a better chance at getting into a more competitive college.

Conclusions The context in which students at Park City and Evanstown high schools ­were navigating the college application pro­cess is crucial to understand b­ ecause this created pressure on students to forge ahead with four-­year college plans, despite a lack of cultural knowledge about the college application pro­cess. All students felt pressure to attend college and had big college dreams; however, the differences in the ways advantaged and disadvantaged students, who attended the same schools, approached the application pro­cess w ­ ere significant. Not only did less advantaged students lack basic knowledge of the steps of the college pro­ cess, they also did not engage in strategies to maximize their chance of admissions. Considering that low-­income and minority students are less likely to attend highly selective institutions,37 where admissions are the most competitive, ­these differences are impor­tant, and problematic. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that the college culture at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School was highly successful at raising college expectations, but less so at raising cultural knowledge about college. Studies have shown how students attending dif­fer­ent schools may lack college information and strug ­gle;38 however, few have focused on within-­school differences.39 At Park City and Evanstown high schools, t­ hese differences in cultural knowledge within the schools led students down very dif­fer­ent postsecondary paths. Overall, students whose parents w ­ ere college educated w ­ ere more likely to know more about the pro­cess. However, race and achievement level also influenced college cultural knowledge as well. In the next three chapters, I argue that the high schools reinforced ­these differences in college cultural knowledge through the access they provided (or did not) to dif­fer­ent sources of college information.

3

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers

Jules, a tall young man with large, expressive eyes, is a se­nior at Park City High School and one of the top students in his class. I interviewed him in December of his se­nior year. Jules arrived for our interview in a burgundy button-­ down shirt and jeans, and was immediately at ease, joking and smiling as he filled up on the snacks and drinks I brought in to sustain students during the interview. Ever the conscientious student, Jules was concerned about making sure he answered my questions fully and in detail. This attentive approach to the interview was indicative of Jules’s general attitude about school. His academic stats ­were impressive—­a perfect score on the SATs, all AP classes, and president of two clubs. Talking to Jules, it is clear that beyond ­those statistics, he is extremely intelligent. When he told me his response to a University of Chicago1 essay question, “Find X,” I was impressed. Chicago’s notoriously obscure essay questions could cause a normal high achiever weeks of stress over how to craft the best response. Jules told me he came up with his essay, a parable about a boy searching for “X” around the world and learning new ­things along the way, in the shower. As I got to know Jules over the course of our interview, however, I came to see that his ease in answering a question that seemed designed to torment ­eager high school se­niors, was typical for him. Most of Jules’s friends are high achievers like him, applying to Ivy League and other highly competitive universities. Jules lives in what he describes as “one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Park City.” Although neither of his parents went to college, they are successful artists. Jules seems like a typical 39

40  •  Divergent Paths to College

upper ­middle class, high achiever at Park City High School. However, most of Jules’s friends and classmates in his AP classes are White and Jules is biracial. His ­father is Black and his m ­ other is White. Jules therefore has to negotiate “both sides of the color line”2 at Park City High School, making him very aware of the ability tracking that exists at Park City High School. “Park City is very diverse and I think ­there is not a lot of racial hatred or anything. But at the same time, you see p­ eople are always saying, ‘Park City High School is so ­great. It’s so wonderful. ­There is so much diversity.’ In all my AP classes, I am usually the only African American student and Park City High School seems to be very tracked.” In Jules’s AP classes, he had to listen to negative comments about Black students, who w ­ ere equated with “low-­level” students. “Sometimes I feel like the White students in IGI [a small learning community with only AP and honors courses] . . . ​­there is a ­little condescension for the Black [kids] and it’s not just Black kids. It’s not just a racial ­thing. Just like the kids in the lower-­level classes ­were mostly Black, [but] ­there are White kids as well.” In his elective classes, which ­were a mix of levels, he had to deal with challenges to his racial identity. ­ ere is this kid Aaron in my digital design class. I d­ on’t think he ever says Th anything that’s like [directly saying] “­You’re not ­really Black.” But that’s the message. . . . ​Like I’ll come in wearing skinny jeans or something [and] ­he’ll be like, “Look at this kid. What is this kid wearing?” or I’ll be d­ oing a college app and he is like, “He is d­ oing, like, work. What is he d­ oing?”

Jules’s experiences highlight an impor­tant orga­nizational aspect of both Park City and Evanstown high schools that had a profound effect on students’ academic and social experiences, and subsequently, on the ways they ­were able to access college information. Tracking, other­wise known as ability grouping or dividing students up into dif­fer­ent classes based on achievement levels, was in place at both high schools. In theory, tracking is supposed to help both high-­ and low-­achieving students be more successful by e­ ither challenging them or providing them with additional supports. It also eases the burden on teachers in terms of lesson differentiation. In practice, however, tracking at racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse high schools tends to resegregate students by race and class u­ nder the guise of academic achievement.3 In this and the next two chapters, I outline the ways Park City and Evanstown high schools acted as orga­nizational brokers of college information, and how this brokering led to access to dif­fer­ent types of college information for students from dif­fer­ent social backgrounds, putting them on dif­fer­ent paths to enter more or less selective colleges. This chapter examines the role of tracking in shaping ­these college destination pathways through differential access to college information through peers. Jules was in all upper-­level classes,

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 41

and had been since freshman year (and even before, as tracking in math starts in eighth grade). It is ­little won­der his friends w ­ ere all in upper-­level classes as well. Jules believed the separation of students began early on when parents put students into vari­ous activities, and this contributed to the tracking differentials, and differences in social networks. That’s like the reason p­ eople, kids are in tracks in Park City High School is ­because their parents, like, from a young age . . . ​it’s almost like t­ here is a series of programs you go through and y­ ou’re on a certain like . . . ​­because you just get to know p­ eople and, like, if you are part of town league soccer and, like, my dad took me to, like, chess club and just t­ hese programs I did as a ­little kid. I met ­people and I think to myself sometimes t­ hese are the same kids in my IGI class now.

­These programmatic pathways ­were related to both race and class. “White kids hang out with White kids, that’s ­because they live in the richer part of town and the Black p­ eople just tend to be poorer, so they d­ idn’t know them when they ­were kids.” Jules was articulating both structural and cultural capital explanations for why small learning communities and tracks w ­ ere segregated at Park City High School, which was in contrast to how he felt many students explained the situation. “I think that kids often feel like, ‘Oh, well I am in this class ­because I am just so smart’ and I just think of it and it’s like, it’s ­because your parents put you in t­ hese ­things, it’s ­because, like, y­ ou’re with the same kids ­you’ve always been [with].” His explanation emphasized how early parental be­hav­iors (and the financial means to be able to afford vari­ous programs) contributed to differential ability tracking in school and dif­fer­ent social networks, which is in accordance with so­cio­log­i­cal theories about the impact of child-­rearing strategies on educational outcomes.4 In this chapter, I focus on how racial and class segregation through tracking impacted students’ abilities to gain college information from their peers. Jules’s social network provided him with access to high levels of college information. A ­ fter relaying some strategic college advice, Jules told me, “I learned the most about the college application pro­cess from se­niors last year b­ ecause I had a lot of se­nior friends last year and they just gave me a good picture of what was ­going on.” Jules was applying to the same schools as many of his friends, which he felt confirmed he was on the right track. “One of my friends in my math class is applying to the exact same colleges as me except one is dif­fer­ent. And I was happy about that ­because I felt like I am a similar sort of person to him. We have similar interests and similar personalities, and I must be applying to the right colleges for me then if that’s where he is applying.” Like many ­others, Jules was friends with the students he saw the most, ­those in his classes. He talked to them a lot about college, exchanging information and also commiserating about the stress of the pro­cess. Unlike many

42  •  Divergent Paths to College

o­ thers that I interviewed, however, Jules was friends mostly with students from other races (though they had similar socioeconomic backgrounds). As he noted, he was one of the very few Black students in his AP classes.5 Due to the racial and socioeconomic segregation of classes at both high schools, most students ­were friends with ­others who ­were similar to them, which blocked the flow of college information across race and class. Instead, cultural knowledge about college was concentrated in peer groups that mostly consisted of White, high-­and moderate-­achieving, middle-­and upper m ­ iddle class students. Black and first-­generation college students had less access to knowledge about dif­f er­ ent types of colleges, strategies for college applications, and even basic information about how the pro­cess worked. Segregated peer networks exacerbated initial inequalities in terms of college information. By failing to connect students from dif­fer­ent social backgrounds, the orga­nizational brokering at Park City and Evanstown high schools concentrated advantages and cut students off from making connections across race and class. This chapter emphasizes the importance of understanding the context in which high schools act as orga­nizational brokers of college information. Tracking had an impor­tant impact on students’ access to social capital in two ways. First, on a structural level, tracking limited students’ abilities to interact with a variety of dif­fer­ent students, contributing to the tendency of students to make friends with t­ hose most like them. Second, tracking enhanced, reified, and gave power to racial and socioeconomic differences between students. Race and class became conflated with achievement, which further served to differentiate and segregate students from each other, impacting students’ access to social capital and their cultural knowledge about the application pro­cess.

Divisions by Race and Class Many high schools make use of some form of tracking. Considering the emphasis in college admissions on students taking the most challenging curriculum pos­si­ble, which includes advanced placement or honors classes, it’s almost assumed on the part of colleges that most high schools provide students with a “menu” of curricular options that vary in both subject ­matter and level of difficulty. Despite this being commonplace, however, research has consistently found that tracking contributes to in­equality in schools.6 Tracking sorts students into dif­fer­ent class levels based on academic achievement, but many times placement has more to do with socioeconomic status and race than with true merit.7 Tracking comes to define how a school works, what students learn, and even who students are through a very public separation of students by status—­who is deemed intelligent and who is not comes to be widely known among both students and teachers, and students of dif­fer­ent ability levels are physically removed from each other. This defining orga­

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 43

nizational component of schools has far-­reaching consequences for students across all tracks in terms of their achievement, aspirations, outcomes, and even identities.8 At both Park City and Evanstown high schools t­here ­were complicated tracking systems that attempted to bring students together in nontracked classes at dif­fer­ent points in their high school ­careers, but also included a fairly rigid structure that separated students. Both schools had essentially four tracks: Basic (the lowest level, though still purported to be college preparatory), Regular, Honors, and Advanced Placement (AP). At Park City High School, freshman En­glish and history ­were untracked,9 whereas at Evanstown, se­nior En­glish and history ­were untracked10 (except APs).11 At both schools, class placement was based on teacher recommendations, although students and parents could petition to move up. This practice was not easy, however. At Evanstown, students who petitioned to move up a level against a teacher’s recommendation had to agree to stay in the class a full marking period, perhaps getting a low grade. Particularly for math and science courses, moving up at both schools was very difficult. Ms. Maryim, a counselor at Park City High School explained: “The content that you cover and the pace that you go at, by the end of the year, ­you’re not finishing it at the same spot. So if you want to make that jump from regular Biology in ninth grade to Honors Geophysical Science in tenth grade, ­there’s a lot of information that you missed.” ­These structural barriers contributed to the classes, particularly AP classes, consistently failing to reflect the diversity of the school. Ms. Pearson, a counselor at Evanstown High School said: “We have tracking ­here at the school and I know that ­there are arguments for and against tracking, but if you look at it depending on the specific levels, it does get segregated ­here. Th ­ ere is this idea that Evanstown is a melting pot, but in other circumstances when you get into the classroom and in certain places it’s not.” Students who w ­ ere in higher level classes said t­ here was a clear lack of diversity in their classrooms. Hester and Tal, two White se­niors at Park City High School, had similar observations. Hester noted: “We are ­really diverse, but ­we’re ­really not integrated. And, like, especially if ­you’re in higher-­level classes, I mean ­there’s one . . . ​two Black kids in my IGI classes. ­There’s none in my math class last year.” Tal said: “I’m in a lot of APs. And it d­ oesn’t exhibit the racial diversity in school.” Not only ­were students of dif­fer­ent races in dif­fer­ent tracks but ­those tracks ­were not seen as providing the same educational quality. Students felt that lower-­level classes ­were less rigorous and had teachers who ­were less prepared.12 At Park City, the placement of many AP and honors classes on the upper floors of the school and special education and vocational electives in the basement was a physical manifestation of who was valued at the school. Wiz, White, said: “Well, ­there’s definitely segregation in terms of race, but that’s self-­segregation; the kids segregate themselves. And ­there’s also segregation in

44  •  Divergent Paths to College

terms of classes ­because most of the p­ eople down in the basement where they have most of the regular classes are Black or Hispanic. Most of the kids taking the AP classes are White.” Robert, Black, said t­ here was a stigma about being in the basement. He continued: Black kids get put in the basement classes for the most part, which is classes with underqualified teachers more like babysitters and kids d­ on’t have to do any work. They d­ on’t r­ eally have plans for college. They ­don’t ­really do much. They ­don’t have to perform, but being t­ here you can go from grade to grade and eventually gradu­ate, just a way to get credits for p­ eople, just so they ­don’t have to hold ­people back. ­People w ­ eren’t g­ oing to perform anyway. So if anything, p­ eople who a­ ren’t in the basement classes, they joke about it as if you went to basement classes. But it’s not like if you have classes in the basement, y­ ou’re dumb. It’s just, like, ­these ­people who have all the classes in the basement and that’s prob­ably not good.

Dif­fer­ent academic programs ­were also tracked at both schools. This was most evident at Park City High School b­ ecause it had two well-­established small learning communities, whereas Evanstown High School was just beginning to develop theirs.13 At Park City High School, ­there ­were two small learning communities that students could choose to enroll in ­after their freshman year, Institute for G ­ reat Innovation (IGI) or Center for Social Change (CSC) (or students could choose not to enroll in any small learning community). En­glish and social studies classes, as well as some electives, w ­ ere h ­ oused in the small learning communities, and all ­were AP or honors courses. Institute for G ­ reat Innovation, which had an emphasis on science and history, was created first, and a few years l­ater, Center for Social Change followed, which focused on social movements. Some teachers told me that IGI was created to minimize White flight from the district and aimed to attract top students, like a gifted and talented program might, though ­others disagreed. Regardless, over time IGI came to be known as the more academic and prestigious small learning community and consisted of mostly White students. CSC was known as the easier and more activist small learning community and had a much higher Black population. Over time, the programs came to be known as spaces for ­either White students or Black students. Amber, a multiracial student, who was in CSC, explained to me: One difference that the kids notice the most is CSC is more diverse,14 I would say, and IGI is focused on . . . ​it just . . . ​it ­doesn’t have that much diversity. IGI has more high academic students like students that would be in the top . . . ​person on top of their grade . . . ​and mostly has a lot of White students or . . . ​I ­don’t know. Dif­fer­ent . . . ​like a higher social economic class, you would say I guess.

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 45

Not only was IGI associated with White students but also students from higher socioeconomic classes and with t­ hose at the top of their class, conflating race, class, and achievement at the school.

Race, Status, and the Consequences of Tracking What ­were the consequences of students disproportionately being in dif­f er­ent tracks? One was that students had less opportunity to interact and make friends with each other across racial lines, as students tend to make friends with t­ hose in the same track.15 Tracking also created status differentials between students, reified racial ste­reo­types, and contributed to making cross-­race friendships more difficult to sustain. Dif­fer­ent tracks and physical spaces at both schools became racialized, as did par­tic­u­lar programs. Over time, as students consistently saw who was placed in the highest tracks, who was in the most prestigious programs, and w ­ hether they w ­ ere walking downstairs to the basement or upstairs to more light-­filled classrooms, they came to see what was valued at their schools. Students associated Whiteness with academic achievement and status, which then contributed to additional challenges to integrating classes. Black students felt awkward and uncomfortable in upper-­level classes when they ­were the only student of color. They also had to deal with negative social repercussions that White students did not. This made it less likely that Black students would advocate to move up a level, or remain in upper levels if they w ­ ere originally placed ­there. Therefore, it was less likely that White and Black students would meet, interact, and form relationships in class.

Lack of Opportunity Tracking affected students’ social networks and the social capital they could access from them in a number of ways. Students tend to make friends with ­those they see each day and with ­those they see as similar to themselves. When students of dif­fer­ent races ­were largely separated into dif­fer­ent tracks, not only did they not have an opportunity to interact and develop friendships,16 they also came to see students in dif­fer­ent tracks as very dif­fer­ent from themselves. Students and teachers linked the tracking system with friendship segregation. Andrew, a White se­nior at Park City High School, who was in many AP classes said: “I think ­people are fairly diverse in their friendship groups with the caveat being that the ­people are friendly with ­people who tend to be in a lot of classes with them and t­ here is a lot of separation, and in terms of which groups are in which classes. I mean, in my, say, physics class last year, I think we had one, may be two, African American students in a class of, like, twenty-­ something.” Some teachers blamed students’ self-­segregation for why programs w ­ ere racially disparate. When I asked Mr.  Marcos, a teacher in IGI, why more White students w ­ ere in IGI and more Black students in CSC, one of

46  •  Divergent Paths to College

the reasons he cited was, “I think it could be that lunchroom t­ hing. You know, like, students sit with who t­ hey’re comfortable with and as soon as that happens in a program, boom, ­those are the way the programs go and that’s how it is.” Students ­were very aware of the segregation among races in the lunchroom—­ which became the catchphrase for describing friendship segregation at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School. Samantha noted: “Coming to Park City High it’s, like, ‘Oh, Park City High is so, so diverse’; it’s not. You go to the cafeteria, the White ­people are ­going to be sitting at the White ­people ­table, the Black ­people are ­going to be sitting at the Black [­table].” This also occurred a­ fter school. Mr. Whitmore acknowledged: “If you go to park on Trident Street, out ­here a­ fter school, you’d think Park City High School is Black. If you go to Marine Ave­nue, you’d think Park City High School is all White. If you go into the cafeteria, if you look on some of the ­tables, the White kids sit together and the Black kids sit together.” Spaces at both schools became racialized, further distancing students from each other. De facto segregation in classrooms led to lack of integration out of classrooms. It also led many students and teachers to interpret this as natu­ral and the ­will of students, not as something that was related to the structural segregation of classes and the resulting status differentials. Melissa, a Black student at Evanstown High School, went back in forth in her interview as she wrestled with trying to explain racial segregation at a racially diverse high school. She suggested that some of the separation was self-­imposed, saying: “I think we all have dif­fer­ent types of friendships and w ­ e’re all dif­fer­ent. I think w ­ e’re all dif­ fer­ent, so maybe that’s why [students separate by race], I ­don’t ­really know.” Melissa acknowledged many advantages to attending Evanstown High School by saying: “We get to experience the dif­fer­ent cultures and at a diverse school, you can ­really get to know some ­people and every­body ­isn’t the same. . . . ​ ­Here, we get to know each other and get the feel of how it would be in a more diverse college or job, work area and stuff.” Yet l­ater on in our conversation, Melissa said that few take advantage of the diversity and that she was one of them. She then discussed examples of White students commenting on Black students’ clothing or questioning the legitimacy of Black History Month, which dissuaded her from making significant efforts to develop cross-­race friendships.

Status, Tracking, and Disproportionate Consequences for Racial Minority Students Lack of opportunity prevented students from interacting and creating relationships across race and class, and this separation was reinforced by status differentials in who was in the lower-­and upper-­level classes. Tracks, small learning communities, and physical spaces came to signify White and Black,

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 47

wealthy and poor, smart and “dumb.” Research in similar school contexts has shown how track placement shapes students’ and teachers’ perceptions of achievement, rigor, and academic expectations.17 Tracking, when it results in racial segregation of students, implicitly teaches students that Whiteness is associated with academic achievement and is more valued.18 This creates unequal status among students, making it extremely difficult for positive interracial contact and true integration to occur. Gordon Allport19 defines par­tic­u­lar conditions for ideal contact as individuals that are of equal status working together t­ oward a common goal with institutional support. Integration ­will not lead to positive interracial interactions without ­these conditions.20 Tracking violates the condition of equal status, however, making true interracial friendships, and diverse social networks, hard to come by. Over time, as students consistently saw who was in the AP classes and who was not, they internalized the idea that upper-­level classes ­were for Whites, that Whites ­were higher achievers, and that Blacks w ­ ere lower achievers. This, combined with the pressures of being the only Black face in the room, led many Black students to avoid or leave upper-­level classes. Black students did not just have to worry about the academic challenges of taking higher-­level classes; they also had to worry about what their presence would mean in terms of their racial identity. Simply taking such a class implied they w ­ ere making a choice about where they belonged. Jules seemed to feel that he made a choice early on in his high school ­career. “If I wanted to, I could be in that other group of students [like Aaron in his digital design class] if I had identified more with them. Maybe if I had been more athletic when I was younger and I had joined the Park City football team as a freshman, maybe I would identify more with that group of students.” Instead, Jules had pursued dif­fer­ent interests, which meant that he had chosen a dif­f er­ent social identity, one where he fenced and participated in the debate club instead of playing football, took upper-­level classes, and was friends mostly with White students. While he did not seem to regret his choice, it was something White students never had to consider. Other Black students found being in an upper-­level class more difficult to negotiate than Jules did. At Evanstown High School, I met J. T., a serious, but ­eager Black young man who wore glasses and neatly pressed shirts. J. T. lives with his ­mother, f­ ather, and two siblings. Although his parents had not attended college, they ­were instrumental in instilling in J. T. a drive to do well in school, and he was committed to attending college. When I asked him to tell me a ­little bit about himself to begin our interview he said: I’ve been taking a few honors courses throughout my four years of high school and I consider myself dif­fer­ent from the rest of my friends. . . . ​I ­don’t want to say superior to them, but like, intelligent. Like some of them, they want me to

48  •  Divergent Paths to College

dumb myself down to be with them and I say, “No, this is who I am. If you ­don’t like it, then we ­can’t be friends anymore or we ­can’t talk.”

When J. T. took his first honors class ju­nior year, he said: “I felt alone. I ­didn’t have most of my friends in that class. Basically, when ­people found out I spoke up they ­were just shocked. I felt quiet, alone; nobody talks to you as much, nobody to ask for help, so it’s r­eally difficult.” When describing the racial makeup of the class he said: It felt like a wake-up check cause I mean in [Basic] classes, they have, like, only one White kid, so they w ­ ill feel timid. Same t­ hing with Honors if y­ ou’re a minority and y­ ou’re in a room full of White and Asian students, y­ ou’re ­going to feel, like, timid and shy, b­ ecause ­they’re very competitive. So t­ hey’re two very dif­fer­ent worlds in ­those classes.

J. T. felt pressure to conform to the ste­reo­t ype that Blacks are not as smart. He said, “What I did was dumb myself down and lived up to their standard, which I ­shouldn’t have.” J. T. said if ­there w ­ ere just a few more minority students in his class, he might have felt more comfortable. J. T.’s experience was similar to what I heard from other teachers and students. Samantha switched from IGI to CSC ­after the first day b­ ecause she felt so uncomfortable being the only Black person in her class. Mrs. Scott, who worked in the counseling office at Park City High School, frequently had conversations with students like Felecia about what it was like being the only Black student in her AP class. J. T. said he stuck with his first honors class at Evanstown High School ­because a teacher recommended him for it and said he could do it. Even though he received the lowest grade of his high school ­career (a C+), he took another honors class the next year and was now receiving a B+. When Mrs. Scott was talking with Felecia about her concerns about staying in the AP class, she reminded Felecia that a teacher had recommended her for it and would not have done so if she could not ­handle it. For students like J. T. and Felecia, teacher expectations meant something, and having someone tell them they ­were capable of a higher-­level course was a significant support. This was in contrast to the sense of entitlement of many White, middle-­and upper ­middle class students who felt that they belonged in AP and honors classes and fought to gain access, even if they ­were not qualified academically and ­were g­ oing against teacher recommendations. Mr. Whitmore said: “­Every White kid—­not e­ very, but most of the White kids—­feel that ­they’re AP material. So your courses like AP U.S. History and trig calculus Honors are two examples of a third of the class to a half of the class s­ houldn’t be ­there. ­They’re not r­ eally up to that level.”

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 49

Lacking the entitlement that is so common among middle-­and upper m ­ iddle class students, most of whom ­were White at Park City and Evanstown high schools, less advantaged Black students put a lot of stock into what teachers said and believed in their assessments. This may have led such students to be less likely to challenge teacher recommendations for class levels, even though I heard instances from both counselors and students that some teachers seemed to harbor low expectations for racial minority students, like the teacher who sent five minority students back to their counselors the first day of her Honors class ­because she did not think they ­were in the right class. Many less advantaged students may have also lacked the cultural knowledge to “work the system” like upper ­middle class White students and their families did. At Evanstown High School, where students who challenged teacher recommendations for class placement ­were required to stay in the class for a ­whole marking period, parents went about trying to convince teachers to instead change their recommendation, so that their ­children could leave the class early if it was indeed too challenging, and not receive a low grade for the marking period.21 In contrast, some counselors felt that parents of minority students put too much trust in the school and did not know how or when to advocate for their ­children.22 Being in upper-­level courses came with social ramifications for Black students. J. T. felt pressure from friends to “dumb himself down.” Similarly, Jules had to deal with being seen as “not Black enough.” Other students that I talked with ­were accused of “acting White” by their classmates. Anthropologists Signithia Fordham and John Ogbu first proposed the theory of “acting White” as an explanation for why Black students underachieve.23 This was a burden that Black students had to bear if they did well in school—­ostracism from their own friends and challenges to racial identity.24 When Black youth engage in be­hav­iors seen as more “White,” such as speaking or dressing a certain way, hanging out with Whites, or striving to succeed, they may then be seen as not Black, leading many to avoid achievement and higher-­level classes due to peer pressure. Fordham and Ogbu’s theories have been criticized for blaming Black youth for their own prob­lems and relying too much on cultural explanations of achievement while failing to account for the power­f ul structures that shape youths’ lives. Karolyn Tyson and colleagues argue that school structures influence oppositional attitudes.25 They found that at schools where t­ here ­were e­ ither race or class differences in track placement, high-­achieving, lower-­status students (Blacks or low-­income Whites) had to contend with oppositional attitudes from their peers. Rather than race, the authors argue that it is in­equality in track placement, where high-­status students are privileged, that leads students to disassociate from achievement.

50  •  Divergent Paths to College

Research has oftentimes failed to find evidence of the so-­called burden of acting White among Black youth.26 Sociologist Prudence Car­ter27 argues that “acting White” has much less to do with academic success than Fordham and Ogbu originally theorized. Instead, Car­ter found that “acting White” among the Black youth in her study was more about how one dressed and talked. Almost all Black students I interviewed w ­ ere familiar with the term “acting White” and had heard it used,28 and similar to Car­ter’s findings, many said that ­doing well in school had nothing to do with “ acting White.” For example, Dave, a Black se­nior at Evanstown High School said that ­others at school talked about how a friend of his, Jim, acted White ­because he hung out with a lot of other White kids. “He started, like, picking up stuff that his group of friends do. Like wear[ing] open-­toe flip-­flops, like ­really short shorts and stuff like that.” But when I asked Dave if acting White had anything to do with d­ oing well in school, he said no. Similarly, most students echoed Tamia’s thoughts, that acting White had to do with “the way you talk or something, the way you dress, or like who you hang out with, how you act.” Some students had to deal with being accused of acting White when they made friends across color lines. Felicity said: I run track, all my four years, so on the track team, I’m the only Black girl on it that’s good, that’s up t­ here . . . ​­there’s another White girl on the team, Nancy, she’s ­really good, so it’s both of us, Nancy and I, w ­ e’re r­ eally, ­really close, ­because w ­ e’re the ones on the team that are so good and every­one looks up to us or what­ever. So during that time we got so close, I used to go to her h ­ ouse, and in school, we’d eat lunch together and t­ hey’re [her Black friends], like, “Why are you acting so White?”

While most Black students associated “acting White” with style, dress, and who one was friends with, some high-­achieving Black students did feel that they ­were ridiculed for “acting White” ­because they did well in school. When I asked Bill if he had ever heard the term “acting White,” he said: “I’ve heard that about me a lot and I just associate that with being smart or not talking with just slang . . . ​which I do a lot outside of school and my mom ­doesn’t ­really like that. But in school, I try to talk just properly as pos­si­ble. So ­people that ­don’t ­really know me that well think I act White.” Teachers also felt that this occurred. When explaining the pervasiveness of tracking at Evanstown High School, Mr. Cassandra said: “I think peer pressure is part of it, but that academic piece where Black kids are labeled as being sellouts and ­Uncle Toms if t­hey’re in AP classes and t­hey’re hanging out with White ­people and all kind of stuff. And that’s not a burden every­one wants to carry. So that’s part of it.”29

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 51

How the Schools Viewed the ­Causes and Consequences of Tracking ­ ere ­were many racial barriers to Black students enrolling and remaining in Th upper-­ level classes. However, not all teachers acknowledged them, like Mr. Cassandra did. Although most counselors, teachers, and administrators ­were aware of the issues with tracking, they differed on what they saw as the root cause for ­these disparities. Many times, the ­causes they did identify failed to actually address the importance of race and its widespread impact. Instead, teachers and counselors focused on interest and ability. When discussing the racial disparities in who enrolled in IGI versus CSC, Mr. Marcos said: I ­don’t think it’s any less uncomfortable for any other student just, this i­ sn’t for them [Black students]. I think the bigger t­ hing—­it’s not a race ­thing. “This just ­isn’t what I’m interested in,” for any students who decide to leave, which is fine. We take three periods of their day and if t­ hey’re not interested, that’s a miserable day, and I w ­ ouldn’t want a kid to be somewhere they ­didn’t want to be.

Mr. Whitmore contended that at Park City High School, counselors erred on the side of “ambition” when advising students on course levels since it was so hard to move up, but easy to move down. He found it frustrating when the guidance department was criticized for low numbers of Blacks in higher-­level courses. “­Every single year, it’s the perception of what we do. It’s actually the opposite of what we do. I think every­body h ­ ere tries to encourage kids to take as demanding a course load as they can while still being successful. You know, we err t­ oward asking p­ eople to challenge themselves.” Yet in a study the counseling office did, they found that “­there are a huge number of African American kids who started in AP and Honors courses in their sophomore year who ­don’t continue in their ju­nior year. I did look at why and they just ­weren’t ­doing well, and ­weren’t thriving, and ­weren’t feeling like they ­were—­you know, this was the place for them. In the end, [Regular] prob­ably would have been . . . ​the organic food for them.” Mr. Whitmore and other counselors did not look further into why students w ­ ere feeling like t­ hese classes w ­ ere not the right place for them. This failure to delve into the cultural and social reasons for why students left AP classes, and instead chalking it up to students not being cut out for the higher level classes, contributed to the dominant cultural norms that associated blackness with lower academic achievement and reinforced lower expectations. ­Others, however, did acknowledge ­these issues and how they affected Black students. When I asked Mr.  Cassandra about the segregation in classes, he discussed his own high school experiences at a similarly diverse high school.

52  •  Divergent Paths to College

I always had to go through my academic c­ areer, not necessarily proving but demonstrating that I was capable. . . . ​It certainly hurt me academically. I was a very good student, but who knows what I could have been had I maintained a more rigorous schedule, but I was not at all interested in—­and t­ here ­were classes with friends of mine who ­were White, but being the only one in ­there, it’s not easy. Anytime something comes up about race, every­one looks at you to see what you have to say; y­ ou’re representing all Black p­ eople. It’s not fun.

Mrs. Ricardo, a counselor at Evanstown High School, also felt that Black students faced lower expectations. She said that teachers ­were more lenient and let students sleep in class and w ­ ere more willing to give them a pass to get out of class, rather than hold them to high expectations. Mr. Cassandra echoed t­ hese ideas by saying: “I think some of our teachers and administrators actually feel badly or feel bad for some of the Black kids, and then they coddle them too much. And that’s not preparing you for college. ‘Letting me slide by without d­ oing homework one day,’ that’s not it. I think that goes on, too. It’s a complex prob­lem ­here.” The tracking systems at Evanstown and Park City high schools created and reified racial differences in academic status. Certain classes and small learning communities came to be seen as more appropriate for White students, while ­others ­were deemed more appropriate for Black students. Crossing ­these lines for Black students brought about challenges that White students did not have to navigate. Yet few teachers or counselors seemed to acknowledge this and work to challenge ­these ideas. Instead, they chalked up striking racial differences in course taking as more to do with interests and ability than with the cultural and social dynamics being created by the schools’ tracking systems.

Disrupting Racialized Spaces While overall ­there seemed to be more segregation than integration at Park City and Evanstown high schools, some students did cross racial bound­aries, and this tended to happen more in situations that met Allport’s criteria, particularly having equal status and working together for a common goal. Sports and other extracurricular activities meet ­these criteria and students who participate in sports are more likely to have friends of dif­f er­ent races and more positive interracial experiences.30 Felicity met her friend Nancy while on the track team and they formed a close friendship. Max, a White se­nior at Park City High School played basketball since freshman year. Max said joining the team, where he was in the racial minority, was the best t­ hing he had done in high school, “­because a lot of p­ eople are used to the diversity h ­ ere in Park City High School. But I think ­there is a difference between understanding diversity and actually experiencing it firsthand. For example, ­every year, in the winter I always hang out with the kids on the basketball team outside of it. . . . ​so

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 53

much happens during basketball season that it, like, it was ­really life changing. I think that’s why it’s the best ­thing I’ve done in high school.” Max explained that he had come to know students whose lives ­were dramatically dif­fer­ent from his, both racially and socioeco­nom­ical­ly. I’m friends with mostly White kids. They understand that t­ here are Black kids who go to this school and it’s, like, half White and half Black, basically. And they might be friends with some Black kids but spending, like, a significant amount of time r­ eally getting to know their ­family, understanding where they come from. That, like, my day . . . ​like, a day in the life of me is completely dif­fer­ent than somebody who lives, like, on the other side of town, like, every­thing is completely dif­fer­ent. And I think that was big.

Max built strong friendships with his teammates on the basketball team. “The basketball program I think is a ­really, like, loving program. . . . ​I ­really started to find that the p­ eople in the basketball program are a lot more genuine sometimes than in ­others.” Max never felt uncomfortable being one of only a few White students on the team. It has just been kind of a good experience. I think freshman and sophomore year, like, ­there are a ­couple more White kids on the team so I ­wasn’t as much of a minority. But it has just been r­ eally fun. Like, I’ve known ­these kids for a while. It’s kind of dif­fer­ent b­ ecause I play travel basketball with the same Black kids who I have been playing [with on the school team]. So it’s like, I have earned re­spect. I’ve got to know them. We’ve just been friends for a while.

Some of Max’s comfort could be attributed to knowing the same peers for a long time and having already established a relationship with them prior to high school; however, it also highlights the importance of equal status. Max notes that he was on a travel basketball team with t­ hese students, which is usually quite competitive. In this way, Max established that he was of equal athletic status. However, his story also highlights the privilege that White students had even in majority minority spaces. Max never worried that his White friends would think he was acting Black. He did not worry that he would confirm ste­reo­types or that his per­for­mance on the court would be held up as indicative of all White males.

Tracking, Friendship Segregation, and College Information Tracking systems at both Evanstown High School and Park City High School served to separate students by race, and many times by class as well. While students did make friends outside of their classes, as Max’s experience playing

54  •  Divergent Paths to College

basketball indicates, sharing classes together was a very impor­tant way that students connected. Segregated tracks contributed to segregated friendships, and this led to segregated social networks and differential access to cultural knowledge about college via the social capital available through peers. When less advantaged groups assem­ble together, they create clusters that lack resources.31 This is perpetuated by the princi­ple of homophily—­that like ­will stick with like.32 So it becomes more likely that students ­will stay within their segregated networks, with similar students, over time. This creates in­equality when groups have very dif­fer­ent resources, and advantaged students, who have access to more cultural knowledge and social capital stick together, and less advantaged students, who lack cultural knowledge and have less dominant social capital stick together, reinforcing advantage and disadvantage. Students with more cultural and social advantages tended to have more college information—­they knew about more and dif­fer­ent types of colleges, had more exposure to colleges and to adults who w ­ ere college gradu­ates, knew about and could articulate par­tic­u­lar strategies for applying to college, and in general had significant help with the college application pro­cess outside of school. Overall, ­these students had a wealth of cultural knowledge and traded this knowledge with their friends, using their social capital to build more knowledge. Students with less advantages, on the other hand, lacked much of this cultural knowledge. They also lacked access to the social capital that could help them gain this knowledge from their peers ­because they ­were in friendship networks with ­others of similar class and racial backgrounds. Although I found that students relied on their friends and peers for many ­things during the college pro­cess, such as learning about new colleges, providing emotional support, and providing assistance with essays and information about deadlines, not all students had access to the same kind of information in their networks, mirroring curricular tracking inequalities.

Information-­Rich Networks and Information-­Poor Networks Peers ­were an impor­tant source of information among the students that I studied, particularly for students whose parents ­were college educated. For many students, their social networks w ­ ere their first resource, particularly when conducting their college searches. When I asked Max how he deci­ded to apply to the colleges he did he said, “I asked around, kind of talked to ­people I could relate to, that are somewhat like me, that have the same interests as me, so I could see the schools they applied to or go to.” Many times, students learned about schools they had not known about through conversations with friends or by attending college visits with friends. Sally said that friends suggested specific schools to her. “Well, one of my friends who graduated already—­

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 55

she goes to Lehigh—­and she said that it would be somewhere that I should prob­ably go visit. It’s r­ eally nice, and she likes it, and, you know . . . ​I’ll prob­ably visit.” Students ­were also influenced to apply to certain schools b­ ecause friends who ­were similar to them suggested it. For example: HARRIE T:  ​I applied to Vassar as one of my safeties ­because of Laura. MEGAN:  ​Okay. Why b ­ ecause of her? HARRIE T:  ​­Because she visited, she r­ eally liked it. I think, to a certain extent,

­we’re similar p­ eople in terms of our interests.

Other students took advantage of the research their friends had done in their own college searches. Many times, a student might research or visit a school and while not liking it for herself, she may suggest it to a friend if she thinks that it would be a good fit. Amber applied to some schools ­because of a friend’s suggestion. [My friend] told me about Quinnipiac . . . ​a nd she knew more about UMass’s Trainer Program than me. I was like, “That’s one of my number ones. What is wrong with you?” She was like, “Yeah, I Googled the mess out of that school.”

For students like Max, Sally, Amber, and Harriet, who ­were all m ­ iddle class and moderate or high achieving (Max and Harriet are White and Sally and Amber are bi and multiracial, respectively), their friends w ­ ere a wealth of information about colleges. They saw themselves as similar to their friends and took advantage of their research and suggestions, and felt they ­were on the right track when they ­were d­ oing t­ hings in a similar fashion. Middle-­and upper ­middle class students ­were constantly talking about college and this took on many forms, including discussing potential college options, commiserating about the college search and application pro­cess, and receiving emotional support. Gary, a Latino at Park City High School, described his experiences talking about college with his friends: MEGAN:  ​Did you ever talk to your friends about college stuff? GARY:  ​Oh, yes, big conversation e­ very time we went to lunch, it was college,

college, college. MEGAN:  ​What would you guys talk about? GARY:  ​“I can see myself getting h ­ ere.” “I’m so ner­vous about getting in ­here.”

“Can I get in h ­ ere?” “You can get in ­there.” “Okay.” Back and forth just. . . . MEGAN:  ​Was it, like, reassuring each other about stuff and, like, talking ­things through and stuff like that?

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GARY:  ​Like, “I ­can’t tell if I like this school.” “I ­don’t like that school.” “Why?”

Like it was just banter back and forth, chitter-­chatter back and forth, it was g­ reat.

Gary’s friends served as a sounding board for him, helping him decide on schools and also providing support and reinforcement about admissions chances. Similarly, Hannah said that she talked with her friends a lot about colleges. Over the course of the college application pro­cess, conversations changed. “Well, before it was a lot of applications and stuff and how ­we’re all stressed out of our minds and ­going crazy. Now it’s like where we want to go and how w ­ e’re ­dying to hear back from every­one.” Hannah’s friends served similar functions in terms of offering commiserations on the anxiety of the application pro­cess. In information-­rich networks, peers also provided key cultural knowledge about the college pro­cess. Jules noted that his se­nior friends gave him numerous tips and strategies for applying. Charles, a White student at Evanstown High School, said his se­nior friends advised him to get to know the college and ­career counselor, and to make a point to know his own counselor. Carrie at Park City High School also got help from a friend who was a se­nior when she was a ju­nior. “He told me what [colleges] are looking for and he suggested I do the essay this summer, which I am gonna do ­because I am sure it’s very helpful and he kind of gave me just tips and, like, a ­little bit of guidance on how to survive se­nior year.” Friends many times read over each other’s essays to provide feedback. Michael, a White student at Evanstown High School, said, “I kind of wrote the basic story line [of my essay] and [a friend] made it, like, flow ­because I’m not a very good writer, so they just kind of helped me get all ideas in an order apparently.” Friends would also serve as motivators and reminders of application deadlines. “I was on one of my friend’s butt to finish his application,” Smith, a Black student at Park City High School, said. Not all students consulted their friends, however, and even when they did, not all found them to be very helpful. Th ­ ese students w ­ ere in information-­ poor networks, in terms of knowledge about dif­f er­ent colleges, emotional support, motivation, and college strategies. Th ­ ese networks tended to consist mainly of students whose parents w ­ ere not college educated, and many w ­ ere segregated by race. When students’ friends only knew about a limited number of colleges, this limited the scope of a student’s college search. Many times, ­these discussions centered on a few local colleges, such as the local community colleges.33 Students who had already deci­ded to attend the local community college early on during their se­nior year tended to have friends on a similar path. Dosh, a White se­nior at Evanstown High School whose parents did not attend college, planned on attending CCC, as did his best friend. His conversations with friends about college w ­ ere brief and did not contain much new information.

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 57 MEGAN:  ​Do you talk about college stuff to your friends? DOSH:  ​A l­ ittle bit, just more like a quick conversation like, “Hey, where are you

­going?” or “What got you into that?” MEGAN:  ​Did a friend ever suggest a school, like, oh, maybe you’d be interested in this or . . . ? DOSH:  ​No.

Students with limited college information themselves w ­ ere many times in information-­poor networks with redundant information, only hearing about the same few colleges. Felicity had high hopes for college but was met with many roadblocks due to her low grades and test scores throughout most of her high school ­career. When I asked her if any friends had helped her find a college she was interested in, she said: “No, ­because they are all—­since all of their GPAs are pretty crappy, too, they are all g­ oing to like all Black schools [HBCUs (historically Black colleges and universities)]. You need a 2.0 to get in, like a minimal 2.0. . . . ​So they all apply t­ here. I d­ on’t want to go down to an all-­Black college.” Similarly, Ashley felt that she could not turn to her friends for help with the college search or application pro­cess ­because they ­were all in the same information-­poor boat as her. MEGAN:  ​You said you ­were trying to get information from everywhere—­did

you ever talk to any friends about colleges? ASHL E Y:  ​No. MEGAN:  ​Why not? ASHL E Y:  ​I ­don’t, I ­don’t—­I thought they knew as much as I did. So it was like

the blind leading the blind, I thought.

Ashley and Felicity saw themselves as similar to their friends in terms of their grades and information, just as Harriett and Jules did, yet Felicity explic­itly did not want to look at colleges her friends ­were looking at and felt that they would be the wrong match for her, unlike Harriett, who felt that if a friend who was similar to her liked it, she would too. Networks with limited information sometimes could not provide students with realistic college options. Lebron dreamed of getting a scholarship to play sports in college. However, by April of his se­nior year he had still not received any concrete offers from teams. Lebron’s friends, other athletes, ­were not much help. MEGAN:  ​When you ­were thinking about what schools to apply to and stuff, did

you ever talk to your friends about applications, or what schools they w ­ ere ­going to apply to, or anything like that? L EBRON:  ​No, not necessarily. . . . ​Well, one of my friends—­one of my friends is ­going to college for football. He wanted me to come out t­ here and play for

58  •  Divergent Paths to College

the University of Vermont. . . . ​But I ­didn’t—­I thought about it’d be cool, but I’m trying to get away from the cold. MEGAN:  ​Did the friend suggest Vermont as something to look at? L EBRON:  ​Yeah. And I ­hadn’t gotten to it. Like, I ­didn’t email nobody.

Rob, a Black se­nior who was on the basketball team at Evanstown High School, only heard about Division 1 schools from his friends, though with a very low GPA and no scouts visiting him, ­these ­were not realistic options. Students in information-­poor networks tended to not get much help with the application pro­cess from their friends in terms of application help, college strategizing, or general tips. When I asked Mariah what role her friends played in the college application pro­cess, she said: “None ­really. Like nobody was helping me fill out anything.” Some of this lack of assistance may have been ­because students w ­ ere less likely to ask for help. Allen at Evanstown High School said that a friend’s older ­brother tried to help him, but he did not let him ­because, “I ­don’t ­really want to bother ­others.” Similarly, Melissa rejected help from a friend on her college applications: “I’m like, ‘I ­don’t want your help. Look, I know what I want to do.’ ” Melissa had deci­ded to attend a vocational school and never took the SATs or applied to colleges, to her friend’s disappointment. Though Melissa seemed satisfied overall with her path, she wondered what could have been if she had accepted her friend’s help: “But I feel like if I would have . . . ​prob­ably, like, talked to her more, I prob­ably would have applied ­there [to the college her friend was attending], but I d­ on’t know.” Students in less advantaged networks did talk about giving and receiving other kinds of help, however. Like more advantaged students, they got emotional support from friends. While Mariah received ­little instrumental help with applications, she did talk about college with a friend. They also received monetary assistance in some cases: Kim borrowed money from a friend to pay to take the SATs again. Marco got a r­ ide to visit a college with a friend. Other times, when they lacked information, they directed friends to ­those who might help. Majo said that her friends told her to see the college and ­career counselor for help filling out her applications. Both Felicity and Asha sought out help for college counseling from Mrs. Ricardo, though she was not their assigned counselor, as they had heard that she was willing to help minority students.

Race, Class, and Peer Networks Earlier in this chapter, I argued that race was a key feature of friendship segregation at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School. For the most part, students w ­ ere friends with t­ hose of the same race, which affected their access to information due to the fact that race and class ­were highly cor-

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 59

related at the schools. However, class segregation in friendship networks also played a role in terms of the information available. Robert and Brian are both Black and relatively low achievers. Both enjoyed basketball and had played on competitive traveling teams. Brian lived in Evanstown, close to the center of town, which tended to be lower income and have more apartments as opposed to single ­family homes. Brian lived with his ­mother, who was a medical assistant with some college education, and his stepfather, an electrician. He reported that his ­father had a BA but did not live with him or have much contact with him and he was not sure what his current occupation was. Robert lived in Upper Park City, the wealthier (and Whiter) section of Park City. Both his parents had bachelor’s degrees and lived together. Brian and Robert had very dif­fer­ent experiences with the college pro­cess, and particularly with the role that their friends played. I interviewed Brian, a tall, thin, young man, three times over the course of his ju­nior and se­nior year, and though he always expressed a desire to attend college, his dreams seemed to slip further and further away each time we spoke. Brian had seemed upbeat when we talked earlier in the week, but during our interview he seemed upset and down on himself. As we discussed his plans, it became clear that he was struggling with just getting through the day at school, let alone managing the college application pro­cess. Brian had a case man­ag­er at school and was involved in a peer group for at-­risk youth. He had been in trou­ble a number of times at school. Between our first and second interviews, he was caught smoking marijuana at school and was suspended and required to attend drug and alcohol classes. Between our second and third interviews, he got into a “confrontation” with another student and the police ­were called. Brian insisted he was not expelled from school but would no longer be returning to school to finish out the year—­instead he was d­ oing homeschooling through the district. Considering ­these strug­gles, it is perhaps not surprising that Brian had ­little understanding of the college pro­cess. In our interviews, Brian confused the PSATs and SATs, and never ended up taking the SATs. He was not sure ­whether or not he needed them to attend the local community college. Although he mentioned planning on attending CCC a number of times, in our last interview he deci­ded he was interested in attending “South Carolina University.”34 When I asked him what made him interested in that school he said, “Friends said that they liked it.” He said that he wanted to attend, but “I ­don’t wanna go by myself. . . . ​If someone comes with me, [it’s] ­really, r­ eally likely [that I’ll go].” Brian did not know much about the application pro­cess, however, insisting during our interview in May that since classes began in the fall he still had time to apply and could take the SATs in June. Brian’s unrealistic ideas about college possibilities, and the way they w ­ ere tied to his friends’ potential (and equally unlikely) plans, w ­ ere indicative of the

60  •  Divergent Paths to College

kind of information available to him in his network. Much of the “college talk” among Brian’s friends focused on discussing how they would play basketball for Division 1 schools. In our first interview ju­nior year, Brian said he talked to his friends about “Like, what colleges they want to go to. They usually say some colleges they prob­ably w ­ on’t get into. Like, they easily say like . . . ​ they want to go to it for sports and stuff. We usually say, like, while ­we’re walking, like, ‘NCAA basketball.’ ” Brian did not hear about any specific colleges or information about applying in t­ hese conversations.35 Se­nior year, during our second interview, Brian talked a lot about g­ oing to CCC, ­because he knew a lot of friends t­ here. He even went to a class with a friend. However, he did not know the requirements for attendance or what he had to do to apply. Brian’s social network consisted of other Black young men in similar situations as himself. Within that network, ­there was limited concrete information about college. This meant that Brian had ­little information to work with, and what information he did get was less useful or steered him off track, such as the discussion with friends about all attending “South Carolina University.” Robert’s experience with gaining college information from his friend network was quite dif­fer­ent. I interviewed Robert, a quiet young man with short hair and glasses, once in May of his se­nior year. Robert was a low achiever, with a GPA just slightly above a 2.0, but had a number of insightful comments about his experiences at Park City High School and in his neighborhood. He was well informed about the college application pro­cess and justified his decision to attend an HBCU in a neighboring state as a good choice due to his need for a more nurturing environment, but acknowledged he would be ready to transfer if he was not getting the kind of education he needed. Robert named three other upper m ­ iddle class Black young men as his close friends: two of them attended Park City Acad­emy, a competitive and expensive local private school, and they all summered together on Martha’s Vineyard. Robert found his network of friends to be helpful in providing him with information about realistic college options. He visited a number of colleges with friends. Hofstra I had no interest in ­until . . . ​a friend of mine, ­because him and his mom w ­ ere ­going to do college tour day. . . . ​The day before that, they told us we should go. Me and my mom said sure. So that night, I went online and looked at the schools that they w ­ ere talking about, ­there was Hofstra and Quinnipiac. Quinnipiac ­didn’t look appealing, Hofstra did. Visited Quinnipiac; it ­wasn’t appealing. Hofstra, it was r­ eally appealing.

Robert ended up applying to Hofstra, as a result of his friend’s invitation to join their campus visit. Robert said that he talked with his friends about col-

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 61

lege “all the time.” Over time, his conversations changed as he and his friends moved through the college pro­cess. [At the] beginning of the college pro­cess, we ­were trying to figure out where we ­were g­ oing to apply. . . . ​Cost, where you think you’ll get in, first and second option, but mostly, like, when ­you’re applying to schools, ­you’re less optimistic. Every­one’s so worried about it. . . . ​But now we talk about, like, rooming, housing. . . . ​What’s it ­going to be like? Where are we ­going to live? A lot of my friends have that situated already. I d­ on’t yet. . . . ​I do know where I want to be living, but I ­haven’t applied for the housing yet or the housing deposit, but we do talk about that now more than anything.

Robert suggested colleges to friends and talked through options. He read over a friend’s essay and provided feedback. Detailed aspects of the college pro­cess ­were routinely part of his conversations with peers. Brian and Robert had similar GPAs but ended up on very dif­fer­ent tracks. At the end of his se­nior year, Robert was set to attend a four-­year historically Black university. Brian, on the other hand, had vague plans to attend CCC, and that was the most realistic and concrete option he discussed. Clearly, Brian faced issues with drugs and alcohol and discipline issues at school, unlike Robert who reported being suspended freshman year for throwing acorns at friends but had not been in trou­ble since. However, Robert’s social background positioned him well to attend a four-­year college. His parents provided him with critical cultural knowledge about college, took him on college visits, and ­were able to discuss with him the pros and cons of his college choices. Brian reported few conversations with his m ­ other about college, aside from general encouragement. Robert’s friends played an additional supporting role, as they also had college-­educated parents who provided them with key information that they could share with Robert. Brian’s network of friends had ­little information to share, however, and instead conversations w ­ ere vague and provided ­little help. Most students ­were friends with o­ thers like them, both racially and socioeco­ nom­ically. And ­because race and class ­were highly correlated at both schools, this meant that advantage and disadvantage w ­ ere concentrated, making experiences like Robert’s less common among Black students; however, his experience does highlight the importance of class backgrounds in shaping students’ access to information via their peers. Christian, a Black se­nior at Evanstown, is an example of a student who had a racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse friendship network, which was also less common. Christian lived with his grand­mother in Evanstown. He had not spoken to his ­father, who lived across the country, or his ­mother, who had been in and out of jail and suffered from ­mental illness, in a long time. Neither

62  •  Divergent Paths to College

of his parents attended college. Christian started off freshman year at Evanstown skipping school and failing his classes, then made a change and began to put more effort into his classes. He also joined a traveling gymnastics group that competed across the country. Christian was very close with his teammates, “We spend like half our lives together, ­because we practiced yesterday for five hours.” His teammates w ­ ere from across the state and many w ­ ere middle-­and upper ­middle class, attending high school in majority White school districts. The majority of ­these friends ­were ­going to college, and according to Christian, “they are ­going to ­really good schools.” Through his gymnastics network, Christian gained access to cultural knowledge about college and key social capital that helped him in school. He remarked on one of the t­ hings he liked the most about the team: “My teammates helped with my school work and, like, we all do our homework in the airport or, like, we just try to push ourselves to be the best we can be.” He also found out about colleges from his teammates and talked through his college options. MEGAN:  ​What would you guys talk about when you talked about college?

What would be, like, a typical conversation? CHRIS T IAN:  ​Like what school you ­going to, and why do you want to go ­there, and just, like, are you g­ oing to [compete] ­there, or you just g­ oing to do school. . . . MEGAN:  ​Did any of ­those friends ever, did you ever help any of ­those friends with any sort of college stuff, or did they ever help you with any sort of college stuff? CHRIS T IAN:  ​Yeah, they try to help me, like, on the road and stuff they help me . . . ​like just trying to figure out why I want to go t­ here and, like, make sense why you wanted to go ­there and stuff.

Christian ended up getting into one of the schools his gymnastics friends suggested but chose not to attend once he injured himself and realized he could not try out for the team. He instead deci­ded to attend another four-­ year competitive school. The fact that he was attending college made him unique among his high school friends. In contrast to his gymnastics friends who he said ­were all g­ oing to “good schools,” Christian said that ­after high school his friends at Evanstown High School would most likely be d­ oing “nothing with their lives, some of them honestly” and instead of college, they ­will “prob­ably just work, but ­they’re not ­going to want to go . . . ​like step it up to the next level.” Christian had two networks of friends, one of which he did not turn to for college help, and one that he seemed to get helpful advice from. It is impor­tant to note that the more information-­rich network was one that he accessed out-

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 63

side of school, through a nonschool-­sponsored sports team. His experience accessing a network that was both racially and socioeco­nom­ically dif­fer­ent from his background was also unique among students that I interviewed at  both schools. While some students like Jules accessed racially diverse, information-­rich networks, this was facilitated by similarities in socioeconomic status. Max, who played basketball, also had a racially diverse network of friends, but he did not talk about getting college information from his basketball friends and was also able to tap into other networks to gain this kind of information.

Conclusions So why was Christian’s experience so unique and why did it take joining a sports team outside of school with ­people who lived in dif­fer­ent towns for him to gain access to information-­rich social networks that assisted him in applying to college? Why w ­ asn’t he privy to the information available in the networks of upper ­middle class, predominantly White students at his own school? In this chapter, I argue that this was due in part to the racially and socioeco­nom­ ically segregated tracking systems at Evanstown and Park City high schools. ­Because of ­these systems, Christian, a low achiever in Basic and Regular classes, rarely interacted with more advantaged students at his school. Instead, he felt his friends at school ­were ­going nowhere. His social network at school put him on a track to attend a community college or no college at all. Both Evanstown and Park City high school w ­ ere in the unique position of being racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse spaces that had the potential to disrupt the tendency of network clustering and the isolation of cultural knowledge from less advantaged students. Acting as orga­nizational brokers, they could have facilitated ways for students from dif­fer­ent backgrounds to interact and exchange information about college. And for some, they did. Jules excelled in his AP classes, despite being teased by other Black students. At the end of his se­nior year in high school, Jules was set to attend an Ivy League university. Jules, and ­others like him, thrived at Park City and Evanstown high schools. Not ­every minority student did, however, and particularly if their parents w ­ ere not college educated, it was less likely they would be in higher-­ level classes and less likely they would have a more diverse network of friends. Both schools’ tracking systems concentrated college information into dif­ fer­ent social networks, with few opportunities for exchanges. Conversations among students in upper-­level courses centered on discussing a wider array of colleges and more selective colleges, providing information about college strategies and emotional support during a stressful pro­cess. Lower-­level students tended to not seek out information, e­ ither b­ ecause they did not want to bother

64  •  Divergent Paths to College

their friends or ­because they assumed their friends would not know any more than they did. Tracking separated students physically, providing less opportunities for social interaction among students from dif­fer­ent race and class backgrounds. The consequences of tracking extended far beyond lack of opportunity, however. Over time, students came to associate Whiteness and wealth with higher achievement and Blackness and low income with lower achievement. Certain class levels, programs, and physical spaces came to be seen as more appropriate for Whites or for Blacks, which contributed to additional barriers to students moving across tracks. Black students discussed feeling uncomfortable in upper-­level classes or programs where they ­were a significant minority. They also had to deal with the social consequences of being in upper-­level classes in a way that challenged their racial identities, which Whites did not have to contend with. This, along with structural barriers such as the discontinuity of classes, made tracking a rigid system at both schools, again solidifying the idea that White and Black students belonged in dif­f er­ent levels. Unfortunately, t­ hese dynamics are far from unique to Park City and Evanstown high schools,36 nor are they unique to Black and White students. Sociologist Lisa Nunn found that school culture and tracking structures at two suburban high schools contributed to ethnoracial tensions between White and Latino students, where Whiteness came to be associated with academic achievement.37 The racial context created another barrier to students potentially interacting outside of class, as social spaces such as the lunch ­tables and dif­fer­ent streets outside the schools came to be associated with dif­fer­ent races. While it’s not clear that tracking caused the racial segregation of social spaces as it did with academic spaces, it is of note. Socializing across races was not unheard of, but not the norm, and students like Felicity w ­ ere criticized for hanging out with White friends. If Black students a­dopted “White” styles, speech, or tastes, they also faced questions from their Black friends. Both socially and academically, Evanstown and Park City high schools had ele­ments that ­were acceptable for Whites and ­those that ­were acceptable for Blacks, and when class was highly correlated with race, this compounded differences. Much research has found that segregation in classes and social segregation in friendship groups and other social spaces is common in diverse schools such as Park City and Evanstown high schools,38 though this work has not explored the consequences for students in terms of college pathways. Evanstown and Park City high schools ended up tracking students into postsecondary destinations, just as they did in their high school classes. While some of this was due to academic achievement and preparation, it was also influenced by students’ differing levels of college information and knowledge about the pro­ cess, as the experiences of Brian, Robert, and Christian indicate. Lacking good college information, or even realistic college suggestions, made an already

Racial Context, Tracking, and Peers • 65

intimidating pro­cess much more confusing for Brian. Being around friends who seemed to be on similar paths and have similar ideas about the feasibility of his plans provided Brian with l­ ittle new or helpful information. In contrast, Christian was able to compare his dif­fer­ent friendship groups and seek out help and information from a variety of sources. Students received information about college from a variety of sources, and their peer networks ­were just one. In the next two chapters, I discuss two other sources of information that the high schools brokered connections to (or not), school counselors and college admissions officers, and how together access or lack of access to ­these three sources of information put students on dif­fer­ent college trajectories.

4

When Brokering Fails Guidance Holes and Broken Trust I met Kristen in January of her se­nior year during her lunch period.1 We conducted our interview in what was essentially a storeroom that Evanstown High School was allowing me to use. It was cramped, dark, and prone to random interruptions by the security guards who stored their coats and walkie-­talkies in it. But it was semiprivate, semiquiet, and afforded an opportunity for me to sit down with students and talk about their experiences. Kristen, a small girl with light skin who identifies as Black, slowly warmed up to our conversation in our cramped quarters. She is the second of three ­children and lived with her ­mother and ­father, who both graduated from high school but did not attend college. Kristen played cello in the orchestra and had been playing for close to eight years. She worked five days a week at a local supermarket. She was a moderate-­ achieving student with a 3.3 GPA and a combined SAT score of about 1500,2 but seemed disillusioned with her academic experiences at the school—­she had had a number of issues in math and found most of her math teachers unhelpful. In discussing her ­future plans, Kristen mentioned wanting to be a nurse, but was not completely sure. She wanted to go to college, but when I probed the reasons ­behind this aspiration, she said: “I ­don’t know. Every­one just goes to college a­ fter high school.” Kristen had had three counselors in four years at Evanstown High School, and only found one, Mrs. Ricardo, to be particularly helpful. She described how her current counselor, Ms. Barrett, kept directing 66

When Brokering Fails • 67

her to use College Pi­lot3 to find colleges, which she found overwhelming when the program gave her a list of sixty schools all over the country to consider. She then lost her password and had not been able to use the program since. Her parents offered l­ ittle help, and her older s­ ister, who was attending State University, told Kristen she had to figure t­ hings out on her own, just like she did. Not surprisingly, Kristen said: “I’m just lost. I d­ on’t know where to apply or anything.” Kristen’s connections to adults and ­those with prior college experiences seemed to be dead ends. She ended up turning to her friends for help with college suggestions and moral support. Not surprisingly, one of Kristen’s top criteria for a college was one where she knew someone and could room with them. She had applied to five schools, all in Northeastern State,4 and all schools where the same three friends ­were applying. Three out of the five colleges had sent her a Priority application, which waived the application fee, and this influenced her decision to apply. Kristen ended up attending a local competitive private university. While Kristen did end up attending college, which was a move t­oward social mobility considering that she was a first-­generation college student, her college application experiences and outcome w ­ ere in sharp contrast to the more advantaged students I interviewed. Like Kristen, Amber, a se­nior at Park City High School, was a moderate achiever with a 3.1 GPA, though her combined SAT score was slightly lower than Kristen’s at 1420. She identifies as multiracial and claims Caucasian, Black, and Puerto Rican heritage. Amber was an out­going, talkative girl; she did not need to spend time warming up to the conversation—­she jumped right in. Amber lived with her mom and dad, and is the youn­gest of three. Her older s­ister attended the University of Mas­sa­chu­setts–­A mherst and had just graduated, and her b­ rother attended Pace University. Her ­mother had graduated from college and her ­father had completed some college. Amber was involved in numerous activities at school—­she was copresident of a mentoring club, a dancer, and a gymnast. Unlike Kristen, Amber had had a number of positive academic experiences in high school. She was a part of the Center for Social Change small learning community and praised her classmates, teachers, and the curriculum. She felt particularly close to some teachers who helped her through a difficult time last semester when her ­mother was ill. Amber wanted to be a physical therapist for a dance com­pany and when I asked her where she saw herself in five years, she explained to me her detailed plan that included getting a BA in physical therapy with a minor in dance, then a doctorate in physical therapy. Amber’s college application plan was just as detailed. She applied to ten schools and consulted an array of “helpers” in the pro­cess, including her parents. Unlike Kristen’s ­sister, Amber’s siblings ­were helpful in numerous ways. Like Kristen, Amber also found her friends to be a good resource—­they suggested schools to her and provided

68  •  Divergent Paths to College

help with other aspects of the pro­cess. She was applying to some of the same colleges, but Amber was focused on other criteria when considering colleges, not just which ones her friends ­were applying to. She emphasized a big school with spirit, where she could be a “big fish in an even bigger pond.” Amber’s interactions with her counselor, Mrs. Gabels, differed from Kristen’s interactions with Ms. Barrett. For Kristen, her counselor was one of many ­people in her life who offered minimal help with the college pro­cess. For Amber, her counselor was one of many ­people who provided her with assistance and guidance. Amber had the same counselor for all four years and had seen her counselor multiple times for scheduling issues. “I literally was the most per­sis­ tent student she’s ever had. I was in ­there e­ very day trying to figure out how to straighten my schedule [around] and . . . ​I always get a messed-up schedule. She was used to me sophomore and ju­nior and se­nior year. I am very per­sis­tent when it comes to my schedule.” Amber came to her ju­nior conference with a plan and felt she got helpful feedback from Mrs. Gabels, who also tried to set Amber up with an internship. Amber said about her relationship with Mrs.  Gabels, “She always looked out for me. I feel like sometimes guidance counselors ­don’t know all their students and it was prob­ably ­because I made her know me.” Amber ended up attending a very competitive private university in the south. Amber and Kristen came to school with dif­fer­ent sets of cultural knowledge and dif­fer­ent networks, which influenced their pathways. However, the high schools contributed to and enhanced the divergence of their paths through their orga­nizational brokering. For both students and counselors, trust, a central component of social capital, was key to developing relationships. Counselors strug­gled to provide equal ser­vices to vastly unequal populations. Counselors’ strategies for adapting to ­these challenges led students like Kristen to strug­gle with accessing information ­because they arrived at the beginning of the college pro­cess with less cultural and social capital. Th ­ ose who have access to more resources and know how to engage with ­those in positions of authority tend to reproduce their advantages. Amber’s insight about her relationship with Mrs. Gabels (“I made her know me”) had impor­tant implications for the guidance she received. While Amber and Kristen ­were similar in many dimensions, they differed in the way they approached their counselors and the trust that developed (or did not) between each girl and her counselor. The way the guidance program operated at both schools relied on students engaging with counselors and o­ thers in their social networks as Amber did. Kristen’s lack of generalized cultural knowledge about how to interact with school personnel led her to strug­gle. In this way, the counseling program was similar to the tracking of classes: both appeared to be neutral orga­ nizational features of the schools that facilitated student choice, but they privi-

When Brokering Fails • 69

leged ­those students with more cultural knowledge, providing them with more social contacts and college information. The way Amber and Kristen saw their ­futures and the confidence they had in their chances of attending four-­year schools also influenced how they interacted with their counselors. Kristen’s plans w ­ ere hazy and she was ner­vous about ­going away to school, whereas Amber had detailed plans and looked forward to new experiences. As I discussed in chapter 2, less advantaged students like Kristen desperately wanted to attend four-­year colleges, and felt social pressure to do so, yet strug­gled with how to reach their dreams. They faced contradictions within the school about their true abilities to achieve ­these dreams—­they ­were immersed in a college-­going culture, yet felt uncomfortable in the highest-­achieving classes, which would have exposed them to (and made them more competitive for) the most selective schools, leading most racial/ethnic minority students to avoid taking them. Less advantaged students’ tenuous hold on their dreams and ambivalent feelings about ­whether they could ­really achieve them made connections with counselors even more difficult. ­These students needed counselors to embrace a “cheerleader” role and assure them that they could achieve in order to develop trust. Counselors, however, tended to assume a more pragmatic role in the college pro­cess, and focused on providing information for the types of schools they thought w ­ ere appropriate for students, leading less advantaged and lower-­achieving students to feel like they ­were not being held to high expectations. This made it difficult for ­these students to gain the information they needed from counselors.

School Counselors: Institutional Agents or Gatekeepers? As noted earlier, although more and more students from underrepresented backgrounds are aspiring to attend college, such students encounter multiple obstacles in the college pro­cess, including lack of academic preparation, scant information on college, and limited finances.5 Despite wanting to assist their ­children, many parents who have not attended college find it difficult to provide concrete information.6 Instead, t­ hese families tend to rely on the school, which puts school counselors in a key position.7 When students and counselors are able to connect, counselors have the potential to become empowering, institutional agents.8 Institutional agents are teachers, administrators, and counselors who can assist youth by providing support, information, and connections. In contrast, gatekeeping agents make subjective decisions regarding their support based on race, class, and gender. While gatekeepers preserve in­equality, institutional agents facilitate social mobility.9 In order for school counselors to act as institutional agents, students need to trust them.

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Educational researcher Ricardo Stanton-­Salazar developed a framework for understanding how social capital in schools works for low-­income and minority youth. At the heart of his theory is the role of trust, which he defines as shared meaning and understanding within schools.10 This means that students, counselors, teachers, and administrators have similar understandings of each other’s roles and common expectations. This forms the basis of trusting relationships, but another layer binds p­ eople in an organ­ization together—­ the intentionality b­ ehind one’s actions.11 Barbara Schneider and colleagues define this as re­spect, competence, integrity, and personal regard; personal regard, or “extending oneself for o­ thers beyond what is formally required,” is key to fortifying social networks within a school.12 Personal regard infuses an ele­ment of caring into student–­counselor relationships. Counselors display personal regard when they care for students as ­people, not just as clients to whom they are delivering a ser­vice. Through personalizing their counseling, spending time getting to know students, and ­doing more than just the bare minimum, counselors can show their personal regard. Considering this definition of trust, what stands in the way of creating trusting relationships between students and counselors? Barriers to trust occur when roles are contradictory and unclear, and this is certainly the case for school counselors.13 School counselors experience multiple and conflicting roles—­they are tasked with college counseling; course planning; scheduling; facilitating communication between students, teachers, and parents; and acting as ­mental health counselors.14 Providing all ­these ser­vices to all students is virtually impossible, especially when counselors have high caseloads. Public workers tasked with servicing clients without adequate resources may selectively provide ser­vices to ­those whom they believe ­will benefit the most.15 Therefore, many counselors may be in constant triage mode, focusing only on students whom they think they can best help.16 When counselors selectively provide ser­vices to students, this hurts trust. School counselors may also be ambivalent about their position as college advisors. Previously, counselors w ­ ere criticized for their heavy-­handed role as gatekeepers in the college application pro­cess.17 Twenty years l­ ater, researchers found that school counselors ­were encouraging all students to go to college; however, counselors ­were failing to adequately advise students about their chances of college success.18 Due to ­these conflicting pressures, counselors send mixed messages—­both encouraging and discouraging students about their prospects for college attendance—­that may contribute to a lack of trust.19 When roles and expectations are unclear, this hurts students’ trust in counselors, but it can also affect counselors’ trust in students. Counselors may harbor certain expectations about when students should seek them out and how often they should meet, and assume that students do not care when they do not show up. However, many times t­ hese expectations are class based. For

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example, middle-­class students are more likely to seek out help on their own and establish relationships with adults, like Amber did.20 When students do not meet counselor expectations, trust may be hurt as well, making student–­ counselor relationships even more difficult to maintain. In the end, however, students are the ones who lose the most ­because trust provides access to information—­social capital—­that can facilitate college attendance.21 Without trust, students are less likely to meet with school counselors, ask questions, and take their advice regarding the college pro­cess. Considering the potential for unclear expectations and conflicting roles in a racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse high school, the question becomes, do trusting relationships between students and counselors develop in such schools, and if so, how? Park City and Evanstown high schools have every­thing that has been documented to lead to better student–­counselor relationships: lower student–­counselor ratios, adequate resources, and a well-­developed college-­going culture.22 However, they also have to negotiate the complex and sometimes contradictory nature of one of their greatest assets—­their diversity. How did the diversity at ­these schools affect trust between the more disadvantaged students and their counselors?

Two Schools in One At the foundation of Stanton-­Salazar’s framework are the deep-­rooted race and class conflicts in society and their effect on trust.23 ­These under­lying conflicts played a role in the difficulties counselors and students had in connecting and in the dynamics of their interactions. In par­tic­u­lar, counselors at both schools described the demands of trying to reach two very dif­fer­ent socioeconomic populations: the wealthy, high-­powered students who want to attend highly selective colleges, and the lower-­income students who strug­gle to gradu­ ate. Mr. Whitmore said: “You have essentially an urban, low-­performing school combined with a suburban, high-­performing school, and t­here’s not a big ­middle. You have two schools in this one school. . . . ​Every­thing you do, you have to duplicate it in a way that serves all the populations. And that’s fun, but challenging.” For Mr. Whitmore, work at Park City High School was challenging and time consuming ­because counselors had to double their efforts. Ms. Pearson at Evanstown High School had similar feelings about the range of issues she had to deal with: “­Here, how do you please every­body b­ ecause every­body has dif­fer­ent ideas about what’s right and how it should happen? How do you also defend the underdog and try to get them what they need when we still have to make sure that ­we’re servicing our high-­powered and wealthier families?” Despite having relatively low student-­to-­counselor ratios, counselors at both schools never felt like t­here was enough time to meet with all students.24

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Communicating with t­hese dif­fer­ent parent populations took up much of their precious time. An intern in the guidance department at Park City High School described how “he­li­cop­ter” parents could take up an entire day with a string of emails. Another counselor, Ms. Radford at Park City High School said: “You have ­really high demanding-­your-­attention parents, but then you have also the parents that you need to reach out to more so you have to do more of the work on that end. But it’s r­ eally every­thing in between.” Both types of parents took up time, e­ ither with demands or the work needed to reach out to them. Mrs. Gabels at Park City High School, noted, “It’s ­really hard to always be able to ser­vice every­body equally b­ ecause the very bright kids take a lot of your time and the kids who are getting into trou­ble take a lot of your time.” Although counselors discussed how they had to do “every­thing twice” to accommodate the two dif­fer­ent populations, most did not do t­hings differently. Counselors noted that certain students lacked college knowledge and they tried to give ­these students more information; however, they did not adjust their strategies for students who needed more than an overload of information. For example, when I asked Mr. Gregor, a counselor at Evanstown High School, how prepared students ­were for the college pro­cess, he responded: It r­ eally varies. I find that if students have had siblings or if their parents have gone to college, graduated from college, then it’s on their radar. . . . ​For students who maybe a­ ren’t as financially secure, who maybe are first generation, whose parents d­ idn’t go to college or maybe En­glish ­isn’t the first language, I find that ­they’re not prepared. We do a g­ reat job in the department ­here, though, trying to prepare them throughout the four years. It’s not that we start seeing them in ju­nior year to start talking about college.

He identified first-­generation college students as not being prepared and acknowledged a difference in cultural knowledge due to socioeconomic status, yet he did not discuss how counseling strategies to assist ­these students needed to be adjusted. Even though first-­generation college students seemed less prepared, Mr. Gregor emphasized that this was not due to lack of information on the part of the counseling department. When I asked Ms. Radford at Park City High School if she saw any differences between high-­and low-­income students in how they went about the college pro­cess, she said: [Higher-­income students] definitely have more of an idea of what t­ hey’re supposed to be d­ oing. You need a ­little more specific direction for the lower-­ income students, so a l­ ittle more one-­on-­one. And I think maybe b­ ecause ­they’ve come from college-­educated parents, t­ hey’ve gone through the pro­cess themselves, so the parents are helping more, where we step in and help students of the lower-­income families a ­little bit more in that way.

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When I pressed about w ­ hether ­there w ­ ere any racial differences in how students navigated the pro­cess, she said, “In Park City, the higher percentage of families that are lower income are more students of color, so I guess the same trend ­there [as with income].” Race and class ­were intricately connected at the schools, and therefore difficult to disentangle, but specific issues that racial minority students may have faced in the application pro­cess, or in accessing social capital from counselors, ­were unacknowledged by counselors. Although class background certainly played an impor­tant role in students’ access to dominant cultural and social capital, racial/ethnic minority students face additional barriers to connecting with counselors and teachers that are artifacts of deep-­seated racial inequalities and conflicts in our society.25 Counselors did not seem particularly attuned to the nature of t­hese differences. Diversity was acknowledged in a surface way by many counselors—in terms of how it added challenges and required more time and effort. How race and class altered students’ college application experiences, and how the intersection of t­hese two f­actors might require counselors to alter their own strategies, was not a part of the conversation. This lack of consideration as to how to alter strategies to better accommodate all students was surprising, considering that the majority of counselors with whom I spoke cited the racial and socioeconomic diversity of Park City and Evanstown as one of the leading reasons they chose to work at the schools. Ms. Danith explained how she came to work at Evanstown High School: “I interviewed at lots of dif­fer­ent places, but what r­ eally kind of drew me h ­ ere was the diversity. So I r­ eally liked that t­ here w ­ ere a lot of dif­fer­ent groups of kids and it’s what makes it in­ter­est­ing and keeps it in­ter­est­ing, and challenging too.” Many counselors also talked about how much they enjoyed working with students during the college pro­cess. Counselors wanted to get to know their students and provide the best guidance that they could during the college pro­ cess and in other challenges high school students face. Ms. Coriander, also at Evanstown High School, compared her current work to her first job at a less diverse district where she only worked with ninth graders. “I enjoy getting to know the students over the four years and developing relationships with them. So in that re­spect, I mean [Evanstown High School is] a better fit for me ­doing the job that I want to be d­ oing and impacting or helping kids through just ­really being in high school [and] in all the challenges that they face.” How is it that counselors’ desires to ser­vice this diverse population and develop connections with students did not lead to trusting relationships that helped students access the social capital that they needed? In the next few sections, I ­will show how despite the good intentions of most counselors, the systems in place in both counseling programs ­were at odds with the goal of assisting t­ hose students who did not have cultural knowledge about how to interact with a counselor.

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College Counseling at Evanstown and Park City High Schools: Structured Ave­nues School counselors strug­gled at Park City and Evanstown with adequately serving both populations and felt pulled in multiple directions. Yet, as noted above, most counselors wanted very much to serve all students and most said they wanted to work at schools like Evanstown High School and Park City High School b­ ecause of the diversity. They enjoyed helping students and seeing them through the college pro­cess. This pro­cess reflected the overall emphasis on college g­ oing at both schools, but the way information was or­ga­nized and available also reflected the pressures counselors felt in being pulled in opposite directions by a diverse student body with vastly dif­f er­ent needs: high achievers and he­li­cop­ter parents on the one hand demanding their time and low achievers and unknowledgeable parents who did not know they needed to seek out help or information ­until it was too late on the other. As discussed in chapter 2, the counseling programs at both Evanstown High School and Park City High School emphasized college, and the content of their materials and counselor conversations with students ­were quite similar. At both schools, counselors conducted hour-­long ju­nior conferences with students and parents that centered on college applications and shorter se­nior conferences; held parents’ nights for each grade level that focused on college preparation and application (in the ju­nior and se­nior years); hosted college representative visits, college fairs, essay workshops, and financial aid nights; encouraged students to take the PSAT their sophomore year; held workshops or meetings to introduce students to the College Pi­lot software; and hosted other specialized events such as trips to the Historically Black College and University Fair or the Hispanic College Fair. Overall, both schools focused on making as much information available as pos­si­ble. Park City High School had an email newsletter that was posted on the website and both schools had almost all the information they handed out at meetings and workshops available online through the schools’ websites. The scheduled meetings with students, the information posted on the website, and the array of college events throughout the year w ­ ere the ways the school offered formal, structured opportunities for students to access college information. For some students, the required ju­nior conference was the only chance to actually meet one-­on-­one with someone who could help them with the application pro­cess. Both schools had packets of information to give to students and counselors walked them through the major ele­ments of the application pro­cess. Not all parents attended, but most did. Ms. Coriander said: “Your low-­achieving students or minority students ­don’t come in to make ­those appointments. That’s the kind you have to chase them down . . . ​and oftentimes, their parents ­don’t come. So it’s just me and the kid talking about the

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pro­cess.” While students with the most involved parents had their ju­nior conferences in the winter of their ju­nior year, ­those whose parents ­were less able or willing to be involved did not have their conference ­until April or May, well ­after most of the scheduled ACT and SAT test dates and once grades w ­ ere pretty much finalized at the end of the year. Other formalized ways that students could gain college information required that students seek out the information or attend events. While the information was available to all, accessing it required a certain amount of cultural knowledge about how the application pro­cess worked that the most disadvantaged students lacked. While almost all students knew about the large college fairs that featured a hundred or more colleges, fewer students knew about more intimate, and potentially more helpful events such as the common application or essay workshops. To take advantage of many of the resources offered, students had to know about it, decide it was for them, and feel that they w ­ ere entitled to the information or ser­vice and should seek it out. Scholars of sociology and education have long argued that this type of comfort within middle-­ class institutions such as schools, and entitlement to ser­vices, is most common among middle-­and upper m ­ iddle class parents, who transmit this to their ­children in many ways. Working class and poor ­children, however, learn from their parents that they should wait for teachers and counselors to ask them if they need help.26 This may be partly why less advantaged students at Evanstown and Park City high schools had such difficulty navigating the formal channels, which relied on this self-­selection. At Evanstown High School, for example, t­ here was a college and ­career counselor who did not have a caseload of students and instead manned the college and ­career center so that he could assist students with any aspect of the college pro­cess (as well as coordinate many of the college-­related events). Therefore, the most common way this counselor interacted with students was when they sought him out. Considering what an impor­tant resource he could be for students, I asked each student that I interviewed if they had met with him. In my first few interviews, I found out that many of the less advantaged students that I talked with did not even know who he was (he had been ­there for a year or two when I conducted the research); in fact, they only learned of his position and existence due to my interview questions.

Trust and Expectations Another formal ave­nue for gaining college information was during the once-­ per-­year meetings each student had with their school counselor. However, this one meeting was rarely enough to prepare first-­generation college students for the complex college application pro­cess, especially when they had no one with the expertise needed to navigate it at home. Lawrence, a White, moderate-­ achieving student whose parents ­were not college educated, came to his

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conference with Mrs.  Rogers at Park City High School with his ­mother. Overall, Lawrence said he did not r­ eally like talking to his counselor very much. He explained: Yeah, it’s just b­ ecause during all my meetings, like my ju­nior meeting and my se­nior meeting, she seems, like, not r­ eally happy to help me. Like all my other friends go to the guidance counselor, they hammered out, like, every­thing that they wanted to do and it was, like, ­really ­great and then when she did mine, she was like, “Okay, I’ll be right back,” and she left for, like, twenty minutes while I was with my mom and ­we’re just, like, waiting in her room and she’s, like, “Okay, I’m back. Let’s do this.” And I missed my lunch and I was, like, kind of annoyed.

When I asked if he got any help at that meeting, he said: “She told me how the orange card works [where students indicate where they would like transcripts sent] and like every­thing on that. So, I was, like, I’m . . . ​I was pretty set for it, like I d­ idn’t r­ eally know how to do a common app directly, so [a friend] ended up helping me with that, but overall I think it was okay.” Mrs. Rogers went over some application logistics with Lawrence (like how to request transcripts), but did not seem to provide him with the kind of counseling he expected (hammering out every­thing he wanted to do), or give him more detailed information about all aspects of the college pro­cess (like the common application). In the end, Lawrence had to look to a friend to help him apply to colleges. Whereas Lawrence found his ju­nior conference unhelpful and thought that it did not live up to his expectations, some students could barely remember it. Brian at Evanstown High School and his m ­ other attended the conference, but he remarked: “What did [my counselor] talk about? I d­ on’t remember.” Many students, like Lawrence and Brian, needed more guidance than just one meeting, but few found it. The structure of the counseling programs relied on students seeking out additional help on their own, and it was ­really up to them to create relationships with counselors. However, counselors and students, particularly first-­generation and racial/ethnic minority students, had very dif­fer­ent understandings about how this relationship should be developed and what it should look like. One of the major ele­ments of trust is a common set of expectations.27 It is essential for both parties to have the same understanding of what they are supposed to get out of the relationship. However, some students and counselors at Evanstown and Park City high schools had dif­fer­ent expectations, which made it all the more difficult to develop trusting relationships. One expectation that counselors had was that students would seek out help when they needed it in the college pro­cess, and they expressed frustration when some

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students failed to do so. For example, Ms. Carbide at Evanstown High School described how prepared students w ­ ere for the college pro­cess come se­nior year as follows: Half are fine and they show up in September with all their applications done. . . . ​The other half has no clue. Not ­because ­there ­aren’t plenty of resources ­here, but ­because t­ hey’re not ready. Th ­ ey’re not engaged. ­They’re not invested in it. Th ­ ey’re not sure where ­they’re ­going to go. ­They’re scared t­ hey’re not ­going to get in and they h ­ aven’t made the effort.

Many counselors described students who strug­gled with the application pro­cess as lacking effort and motivation. Ms. Coriander described a student who did not know ­whether he needed to submit an essay with his application. When she asked him again a few weeks l­ater and the student still did not know, she chalked it up to, “­There’s a lack of organ­ization in knowing what needs to be sent to each college and a lack of follow-­through.” Counselors expected students to seek out help and take initiative, and when they did not, it was characterized as a character failing on the student’s part—­that he was unmotivated, unengaged, and lacked follow-­through. ­These conclusions ­were even more tempting for counselors to draw when they compared ­these students to ­those who easily lived up to counselor expectations, and therefore reinforced them. More advantaged students, who tended to be White (though not all, as Amber’s story indicates) and come from homes where both parents had graduated from college, knew a lot about the pro­cess well before se­nior year. Th ­ ese students, for the most part, tended to take the initiative that counselors w ­ ere looking for, if they needed the help at all. Many students with college-­educated parents felt as though they did not make much use of their counselor and only asked their counselor questions about school-­ based procedures such as sending in transcripts. However, their per­sis­tence in getting this information or making sure their counselors did what they needed required a lot of counselor meetings and did take up counselor time. For example, Anna, a White, moderate-­achieving se­nior at Evanstown High School with college-­educated parents, said she could not ­really get anything done with her applications u­ nless she was seeing her counselor face-­to-­face. Anna said, “­She’d forget or she ­wouldn’t answer emails ­really, so I would have to go to her office if I had questions . . . ​she prob­ably wanted to kill me . . . ​but I just kept pushing her to get my stuff done.” Anna felt entitled to certain ser­vices from her counselor, and she continued to follow up ­until she got them. Similar to Anna, Carrie also felt entitled to getting what she needed from counselors. Carrie switched counselors at the end of her sophomore year b­ ecause she did not feel she was getting the right advice. Her original counselor told Carrie to take a lower-­level course her

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sophomore year, and Carrie felt she was now b­ ehind “students who are more academic.” She said: I ­didn’t feel that she was helpful for me, especially I knew that in my ju­nior year it was gonna have more of an effect on me and my college application experience with my school counselor, so I thought if I ­didn’t have a good one. . . . ​I ­didn’t have a good experience. She ­didn’t advise me to take some of the right classes, but I’m happier now with my new one.

Similar to Carrie, Asha felt as though her counselor had low expectations for her, as did her friend Felicity. They handled the prob­lem differently from Carrie, however. Asha said, “But we never r­ eally told her how we felt b­ ecause I d­ on’t want to have a bad vibe [so we] just leave it as it is.” Other research describes similar patterns of working-­class students and their parents being less likely to make demands than their middle-­class peers.28 More advantaged students sought out help when they needed it, but they also came to school with a good deal of knowledge about how to navigate the college application pro­cess and relied on their parents or hired private counselors. When I asked Theo if his counselor had been helpful during the college pro­cess, he said: T HEO:  ​She has been helpful. She has gotten my stuff out on time. I d ­ on’t know

the secretary’s name, but I gave her a ­really short notice for a c­ ouple of schools and she was fine with that. So she has been r­ eally helpful. But mostly I just gave my stuff out, other­wise it has mostly been me and my parents. MEGAN:  ​You ­don’t ­really ask her for too much? You ­didn’t have any questions or anything? T HEO:  ​No. And it is not even like on her. It is not like I go to her and she ­doesn’t do anything. I d­ idn’t have much to ask her. My parents have been through the pro­cess with my ­brother, so I ­don’t go to a college counselor or anything.

Counselors’ expectations that students would seek them out when they needed help belied an assumption that students had a ground-­level understanding of the pro­cess laid out by their parents. Annette Lareau29 observed similar dynamics in her study of class-­based parenting. She found that high schools expected active intervention by parents in the college application pro­cess and working and poor parents and their c­ hildren w ­ ere at a disadvantage. Th ­ ese families relied on the school and expected teachers and counselors to come to them if t­here was something wrong. At Park City and Evanstown high schools, the fact that many students ­were able to navigate the pro­cess “on their

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own” (which many times included the help of parents and private college counselors) served to reinforce counselors’ assumptions that students (and parents) who do need something ­will take the initiative to seek out help and be their own advocates. ­These assumptions w ­ ere indicative of how connections w ­ ere actually made between counselors and students and social capital accessed—­through informal interactions outside of the standardized once-­per-­year meetings and large group events. Amber introduced the chapter with her insight that Mrs. Gabels looked out for her ­because “I made her know me,” and this was key to more advantaged students getting the help they needed in the college pro­cess. In this way, middle-­class students w ­ ere able to use their cultural knowledge about how schools worked to facilitate relationships with counselors and increase their social capital. Minority and first-­generation college students w ­ ere at a disadvantage, however. Many did not seek out help early and often enough to establish ­those relationships. When they did seek out help, it was usually l­ater in the pro­cess, ­after counselors felt as though they had given out the same information multiple times. Student–­counselor relationships suffered when students sought out help and ­were rebuffed, and students ­were less likely to try again. Bob, a Black, moderate-­achieving se­nior at Park City High School whose ­mother was college educated, made attempts to seek help from the counseling office, but he found his efforts ­were not well received. I’d rather just deal with it myself aside from getting some kind of backlash, like I said something stupid. . . . ​I just ­don’t deal with them. When I used to go, they would tell me, I guess they ­were busy with other students’ college stuff, and they tried saying it over and over again. Th ­ ey’ll tell me what I need, but they ­won’t ­really tell me what I have to do with it.

When the busy staff did pay attention to Bob, they assumed he understood ­things and handed him papers without explaining. He said, “I’ll ask them [the guidance staff] a question, ­they’ll say ‘­you’ve been through this a million times.’ ” Bob expected to receive help that went beyond simply providing information, and when ­those expectations w ­ ere not met, he eventually stopped g­ oing to the guidance office, cutting off an impor­tant source of social capital. This is similar to the experiences Lois Weis and colleagues30 noted among minority students in an affluent school, where students felt bombarded with information but received l­ ittle practical help. Not all counselors sat back and relied on students to come to them. At Park City High School, Mr. Whitmore described ways he worked to be more proactive. He acknowledged differences in help seeking and focused on individually reaching out to less-­engaged students; for example, students who had not filled out applications yet ­were invited to a special essay workshop. He described

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the multiple ways the counselors reached out to inform students about the Bridge Program, a partnership with a local community college. He said: “We put it over the daily announcements. I send it out via email . . . ​I do every­thing that you should do. [But] if it was something that served the other population [higher-­achieving students] . . . ​I could have just announced it over the morning announcements once.” He found that student networks w ­ ere particularly effective for getting the word out about the Bridge Program. I had twenty-­t wo applications . . . ​and all of them came from this other network of communication where kids talk to one another. They d­ on’t read emails. They d­ on’t listen to the morning announcements. They d­ on’t listen to their guidance counselor calling them down. They listen to their peers—­their peers, and it is word of mouth. And it is just as impor­tant, just as effective, but I ­can’t do for that group what I do for the o­ thers. I have to do it. Put my deadline weeks before I ­really want ­things. Wait for the organic sort of way to go, and ­they’ll trickle in. And it took me a long time to figure that out.

Mr. Whitmore had figured out how to get the information to less advantaged students, and he did work to use t­hese dif­fer­ent strategies, although he had trou­ble getting other counselors to engage in new practices to reach all students. Mr. Whitmore, like many of the other counselors, said that he enjoyed the diversity and challenges of Park City High School and had left another job at a majority White, upper m ­ iddle class high school in a nearby town for Park City. During his years at Park City High School, he had learned that dif­fer­ent populations of students required dif­fer­ent strategies for outreach. Yet the way he described the additional work required to reach t­hese students still seemed to frame the students as deficient, as opposed to framing the methods as problematic. Mr. Whitmore did not consider why less advantaged students might not be responding to emails, announcements, or counselors; he simply said they did not “listen.” Although the adoption of alternative strategies was positive, without acknowledging the impact of race, class, and privilege and how certain ways of behaving ­were valued at the school over ­others, Mr. Whitmore’s strategies did not get to the root of the issues students faced.

Trust and the Role of the Counselor In addition to having mismatched expectations about providing college information, less advantaged students and their counselors ­were not on the same page regarding the counselor’s role in terms of supporting student aspirations, which is another key ingredient of trust. B ­ ecause students believed the schools ­were encouraging them to attend a four-­year college, they felt betrayed when their counselors did not live up to what they thought the counselor’s role

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should be in supporting this dream. Mary, a low-­achieving Black se­nior at Park City High School whose ­mother had not graduated college and had l­ ittle contact with her ­father, felt her previous counselor had low expectations for her. MARY:  ​Last year, I had an old guidance counselor and she suggested schools

that she felt I w ­ ill fall into b­ ecause of my grades. And my mom and me was not accepting that. Anything is pos­si­ble and she was saying b­ ecause I ­didn’t look good on paper, top schools ­wouldn’t ­really be interested in me. . . . MEGAN:  ​What kind of schools did she suggest? MARY:  ​[A competitive local college], community colleges and stuff. MEGAN:  ​Okay. That w ­ asn’t what you w ­ ere interested in? MARY:  ​Not at all. And I w ­ asn’t accepting any of that ’cause I have high aspirations and just b­ ecause you strug­gle at high school that does not make or break you. So we ignored her.

Mary felt that her counselor was suggesting she lower her aspirations, so she and her ­mother ignored her counselor’s advice. Ace, a Black, high-­ achieving se­nior at Park City High School whose ­mother had gone to college, had a similar experience with his counselor. He had enlisted the help of a counselor at a local nonprofit college counseling organ­ization, STAR. He felt his school counselor went ­behind his back in talking to his STAR counselor about his list of schools. “Yeah, Mrs. Rogers d­ idn’t like me applying to [an Ivy League school]. She ­didn’t like me applying to a ­couple of schools and she actually . . . ​I felt like she went ­behind my back. She went and called [my STAR counselor] and said, ‘Why are you letting him apply to all t­ hese reach schools?’ ” Ace had issues with his school counselor from the beginning of the pro­cess: “I felt like she was generalizing, exaggerating, and making assumptions about me from the start . . . ​and even ­after I told her what kind of school I wanted to go to, she still wanted to push for [schools I w ­ asn’t interested in].” Many first-­generation college students believed the school counselors’ role was to be their cheerleaders. Bob said: “When I go to ask someone a question . . . ​ I’m not actually ­going to them for help . . . ​maybe I need someone ­else to be like, ‘Yeah ­you’re worth it, just go ahead and do it, you’ll prob­ably get accepted.’ Maybe that’s what I’m looking for.” Bob was disappointed in his interactions with his counselor, Ms. Small, when she suggested he look into community colleges. Counselors at Park City and Evanstown high schools ­were in a difficult position, one that is exemplified in the disparate characterizations of counselors in the scholarly lit­er­a­ture and in the popu­lar imagination. They are criticized as gatekeepers when they try to provide what they consider to be more realistic advice and temper student aspirations. Mary was hurt and confused by her counselor’s suggestion of community college, and this experience

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essentially closed off an impor­tant tie for Mary to get college information. However, Mary had a 2.5 GPA and had scores of less than 500 on each of three sections of the SAT. She had had to retake the state achievement test in math due to low scores. Mary believed that aspirations ­were key and that her lack of high school academic achievement did not mean that she could not attend a four-­year college. This is the prob­lem with the “college-­for-­all” mentality, however: students end up seeing l­ ittle to no relation between their high school preparation and their chances of success in college, but t­ hese are intricately connected and lack of adequate preparation does not bode well for student retention or graduation.31 Counselors who fail to point this out to students are then criticized for not preparing them adequately for college success. Counselors at Park City and Evanstown high schools ­were challenged in navigating this difficult position. Counselors that I spoke with did not indicate that they felt more selective, four-­year colleges ­were only for certain students, and many expressed a sincere desire to help students find the right school for them. However, they ­were also dealing with pressure from the administration to make sure that e­very student applied to college and to increase the number who attended. This may be why counselors focused on the numbers, telling me that if students ­were applying to schools the counselors felt they ­were not qualified for, they would show them graphs of past students who had applied to ­those schools, and what kinds of GPAs and test scores ­were required to get in. Counselors wanted to provide students with what they felt ­were more realistic college choices, and in trying to temper college dreams, they seemed unsupportive. Trust issues resulted from misunderstandings in what each thought the role of a counselor should be: students expected counselors to support their college aspirations, whereas counselors focused on giving practical information. ­These differences in expectations about help seeking and understandings of the counselor role broke trust among many racial/ethnic minority and first-­ generation college students, resulting in “guidance holes.” This is related to what sociologist and network theorist Ronald Burt termed “structural holes.”32 ­These are holes in the social structure where groups are not connected. In the economic marketplace, t­hese holes are opportunities for individuals who can occupy them and bridge two dif­fer­ent networks, increasing the information they possess. ­Those who can bridge the two networks are in a favorable market position and have control over impor­tant social capital. In Park City and Evanstown high schools, guidance holes developed in the structure of relationships between some students and school counselors, where ­there was ­little exchange of information or connection. Th ­ ese holes w ­ ere detrimental to students, as they ­were cut off from a key source of social capital. In the next section, I discuss how some counselors and counseling staff acted as bridges to connect students to information across t­ hese holes by developing

When Brokering Fails • 83

trust. In chapter  5, I discuss how ­these holes also offered opportunities for higher education institutions to step in and take advantage of that key market position.

Developing Trust: Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Scott Part of trust is developing a mutual understanding and emotional connection, and this was impor­tant to students and counselors. Without knowing someone on a deeper level, it was hard for students and counselors to go beyond their formal relationships and for counselors to be institutional agents.33 Felicity, for example, had difficulty getting help with financial aid forms due to her lack of a relationship with Mr. Gregor, a counselor whose role was to help students with all aspects of the college pro­cess. She had made two appointments with Mr.  Gregor and both times had been unable to find him. The second time she was in tears, and when she found Mr. Gregor, he apologized and said he was not able to meet with her ­because he was not supposed to help students with financial forms. ­Later, Mr. Gregor told me that he was not supposed to help, but if he knew a student, he prob­ably would, and he knew most other counselors operated like that. Without knowing Felicity, Mr. Gregor did not trust her enough to provide help on a financially sensitive form that was not part of his job description. It was informal interactions, over time, that would have led to more trust, and potentially to Mr. Gregor g­ oing out of his way to help Felicity. Less advantaged students, who had difficulty making ­those valuable informal connections with counselors, felt alone in the college pro­cess. However, at both schools t­ here ­were some individuals who approached counseling differently and sought out ­these students, initiating informal interactions outside of the structured channels and many times this resulted in students gaining access to needed social capital. At Evanstown High School, one counselor who did this was Mrs. Ricardo, a Black-­Hispanic, middle-­aged ­woman who wore glasses and bright scarves that coordinated with her dangly earrings. Her office was crammed full of student photos, letters, and college banners. Mrs.  Ricardo employed strategies that ­were dif­fer­ent from ­those of her colleagues. Her strategies built trust between herself and her students and w ­ ere based on developing clear expectations and embodying the role of supporting student aspirations. She also displayed a sincere personal regard for students. All of ­these strategies ­were outside the formal communication structures. Mrs.  Ricardo gained students’ trust and facilitated their help seeking by modeling her expectations. She emphasized the importance of communication and modeled this by proactively seeking out students. She was constantly out of her office, looking for specific students, rather than waiting for them to

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come to her, as other counselors seemed to do. Anna, who did not have Mrs. Ricardo, noted how dif­fer­ent this approach was compared to her own counselor: “[My counselor is] alright, she’s helpful when y­ ou’re t­here in the meeting, but I know some p­ eople that have Ricardo, ­she’ll [contact] them and ask them how their week is and she’s way more involved.” The day I shadowed Mrs. Ricardo I ran around the school with her as she visited one homeroom ­after another and chatted with students. By the end, she had collected a group of students who trailed her as she moved around the school. Mrs.  Ricardo made her expectation that students should communicate with her clear by constantly encouraging them to come to her office. This meant she almost never ate lunch by herself or went out to lunch with the other counselors. Instead, she would tell students to bring their lunch to her office. ­These lunch meetings indicated that Mrs. Ricardo was always available, and she was ­there for more than just crises. She modeled the kind of communication she wanted with students by being proactive, and she indicated her personal regard and concern by seeking students out, eating lunch with them, and checking in on how they w ­ ere ­doing on a deeper level. Mrs. Ricardo worked to make the roles of the student–­counselor relationship explicit, but she did this in an unconventional way. She told her students they ­were in a “marriage,” saying, “in our marriage we ­don’t always have to like each other, but ­we’re together till graduation do us part.” This “marriage” meant Mrs.  Ricardo loved all her students unconditionally, which she told them frequently. This definition of the relationship made it easier for Mrs. Ricardo to support students’ aspirations. When students like Asha and Felicity felt dismissed in their attempts to apply to four-­year colleges, she stepped in, ­going outside her job description. Asha said: “She’s r­ eally cool. She helps Spanish ­people, White p­ eople, and Black p­ eople. I think she’s a r­eally good school counselor. She sometimes goes out of her way to do t­ hings she sometimes maybe ­shouldn’t do for us ­because ­we’re not her students, but she’s ­really nice.” Mrs.  Ricardo also supported students who wanted to pursue alternative postsecondary paths. J. J., a low-­achieving White se­nior, whose parents had not graduated college, had made the decision to go to a trade school. J. J. told me about the pressure he felt to attend college, but then said about Mrs. Ricardo: “She normally just gives me support when you have every­body around you pushing you, like go to college and stuff, she’s my school counselor, and she knows a lot about me. She’s the only one who understands that [college was] not what I wanted to do.” For students, trust was about supporting their dreams and helping them get where they wanted to go, ­whether that was a four-­year college, or trade school. At Park City, it was Mrs.  Scott, an administrative assistant in one of the team offices that ­housed three counselors, who was able to gain students’ trust

When Brokering Fails • 85

and develop a connection with them. Mrs.  Scott was a middle-­aged Black ­woman who had lived in Park City for many years and had sent her ­children to Park City High School. In interviews, a number of students mentioned how helpful Mrs.  Scott had been in the college pro­cess, even more so than their school counselor. Gary said: “Mr. Manchester is my guidance counselor, but Mrs. Scott, his secretary, is the one that got me to college. I went, like, ‘Oh, Mrs. Scott, thanks for getting me into Villanova and thanks for the recommendation and sending in all my stuff and working so hard.’ And she goes, ‘Well, your guidance counselor did that.’ And I went, ‘No, you did.’ ” Other students said that Mrs. Scott knew them better than their counselors did. ­A fter talking to a few students who mentioned Mrs.  Scott, I deci­ded to interview her to understand what it was about her approach that seemed to be connecting with students. I found that in some ways Mrs. Scott was similar to Mrs. Ricardo in that she also worked on creating ave­nues of informal connection with students. In par­tic­u­lar, she emphasized personal regard and getting to know students. In my interview, Mrs. Scott explained to me how she would work with students. Her main job was to “pro­cess paperwork” and make sure students knew all the dif­fer­ent request forms they needed to fill out. Despite the bureaucratic nature of this task, Mrs. Scott’s description of her job exuded warmth. She said: “I would generally have my students sit in that chair, it’s always drawn to my desk, and w ­ e’ll just start with, what are you ­doing, where are you applying to, what is the ultimate goal? And once they explain to me where ­they’re trying to go, what they are trying to do, I explain the pro­cess to them—­that’s how I get what they need.” She continued: “I like the position that I am in ­because talking to the student, I get to know them personally. I know their issues, I know their anx­i­eties, sometimes I know a ­little bit more than I think I want to. But I get a picture of the overall student, which is beneficial for the student and the college counselor as well.” Like Mrs. Ricardo, Mrs. Scott worked to get to know students on a deeper level and made them feel as though she r­ eally cared about them. Mrs. Scott’s assistance also extended outside the formal structures of the school counseling program and outside her formal job description. She said: “[Students ­will] bring their other friends . . . ​[they ­will say], ‘Mrs. Scott ­will help you. ­Don’t worry about it. ­Don’t worry about it. S­ he’ll help you. I’ll take you to Mrs. Scott.’ And you know, it’s a lot of extra [work], but I ­don’t mind at all ­because I love what I do.” Mrs. Scott’s willingness to help students on other teams was similar to Mrs. Ricardo’s willingness to help out students like Asha and Felicity, who ­were assigned to other counselors. Both Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Scott’s actions ­were clear examples of personal regard—­they both w ­ ere interested in getting to know students and genuinely cared about them, and both went above and beyond their job descriptions to help students when needed, creating trust. This meant that both ­were also

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using informal ave­nues to connect with and assist students, not just the formal ones that ­were structured by the school. They bridged the guidance holes that ­were created through personal regard and establishing trust. It was t­ hese informal ave­nues of connection that created social capital and assisted some of the most marginalized students.

Trust Across Race and Class Ricardo Stanton-­Salazar argues that institutional agents can be key sources of social capital for low-­income racial/ethnic minority students. Institutional agents occupy positions of status and assist youth by providing support, information, and connections. It is impor­tant to note that they also acknowledge the par­tic­u­lar constraints that racial/minority students face in navigating schools and work through t­hese structures to access resources for t­hese students.34 Both Mrs.  Ricardo and Ms. Scott acknowledged ­these challenges more than other counselors, which may have also encouraged more trust and better connections with students. Mrs.  Ricardo was one of only a few Black faculty and staff at Evanstown High School, and one of only a handful who spoke Spanish, which may have contributed to minority students believing she was one of the few counselors they could go to. Both Felicity and Asha insinuated that Black students had a lot of difficulty getting help from and connecting with their counselors at Evanstown High School; they mentioned that Mrs. Ricardo was known for helping Black students, even when she was not their counselor. To students, Mrs. Ricardo may have seemed more willing to advocate for them ­because she discussed the par­tic­u ­lar issues racial/ethnic minority students faced. In my interview with Mrs. Ricardo, I asked her if minority students had a dif­fer­ent experience at Evanstown High School compared with other students. In my field notes, I wrote: She said yes on many levels. . . . ​She said that even having White friends and a high SES, [minority students] still d­ on’t do as well as they could. They feel like they stand out in AP and honors classes. Teachers ask how they feel about urban issues when they ­don’t know anything about urban issues. They talk to each other about being uncomfortable.

She also described the lack of comfort their parents had in demanding t­ hings from the school. In my field notes, I wrote that Mrs. Ricardo said: “Parents ­will applaud minority students. ­They’ll applaud straight As but they d­ on’t think, ‘Oh well, if ­they’re getting straight As, maybe they should move up a level.’ Parents think that the school knows what’s right and they ­don’t r­ eally question that.”

When Brokering Fails • 87

Mrs. Ricardo acknowledged that race in par­tic­u­lar ­shaped students’ experiences, regardless of class, unlike other counselors with whom I spoke. Similarly, Mrs. Scott acknowledged the challenges that Black students had at Park City High School. She told me about Felecia, who was struggling in a high honors class and wanted to drop it. She said: And I’m like, “Okay, in all honesty, seriously, how many of you are in the class?’ ” She goes, “­There’s two of us.” I said, “And y­ ou’re in the class ­because somebody recommended that you take this class not just b­ ecause you deci­ded you ­were bright enough to do it, right?” She goes, “Yeah.” I said, “The teacher recommended you for the class ­because she knows that y­ ou’re capable, and you want to drop it ­because why? Well, it’s just like some hard work and this and that. Hard work is g­ oing to kill you? Seriously, do you know what that class is ­going to do for your GPA?”

Mrs. Scott knew that a potential issue was that this student was one of only two minorities in the class and that she may have felt isolated and unsure of her abilities. Mrs. Scott acknowledged the issue of race and gained this student’s trust, then worked with her to identify potential ways she could improve her grades in the class. Acknowledging ­these issues up front may have played an impor­tant role in Mrs. Scott’s ability to connect with students. At Park City High School, t­ here ­were Black school counselors, but it was Mrs. Scott who seemed to make ­these connections. ­These analyses of Mrs. Ricardo and Ms. Scott are not meant to draw pictures of ideal counselors, but of an approach that bridged a gap between counselors and disadvantaged students, filling that guidance hole. Mrs.  Ricardo was successful in building trusting relationships, but her strategies and practices ­were not without drawbacks. Although students seemed to want unqualified support for their college aspirations, when underprepared students attend four-­year colleges, they may encounter significant obstacles and leave without a degree and in debt.35 To show her “unconditional love,” Mrs. Ricardo seemed to support students no ­matter what their goal. Some students, however, may have needed more realistic advice. Although Mrs. Ricardo showed her personal regard for students by ­going above and beyond her job description, this meant she never ate lunch alone or had time to work on her paperwork during school hours, making it difficult for her to separate her work and personal life. When I talked with her, she mentioned a number of times that she was planning on retiring soon, and while she loved her students, she was exhausted. Similarly, Mrs. Scott worked with students on college applications during her off hours, at her home, and on the weekends, sacrificing her own time. For Mrs.  Ricardo and Mrs.  Scott, creating the informal connections with less advantaged students that would build trust and give them access to critical

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social capital meant they had to work harder and outside the bound­aries of their positions.

Conclusions Kristen and Amber ­were similar in a number of ways, but had dif­fer­ent class backgrounds, and this influenced how they went about interacting with their counselors and the social capital they ­were able to access. Amber had the cultural knowledge to approach Ms. Gabels and ask for the ser­vices she felt entitled to. Kristen, however, felt as though she was navigating the pro­cess on her own. While both girls w ­ ere accepted to four-­year universities, Amber ended up attending a more competitive university. How did class background play a role in influencing Kristen and Amber’s relationships with their counselors? Middle-­class counselors and less advantaged students had dif­fer­ent expectations for how the student–­counselor relationship should work and of the counselor’s role in helping students through the college pro­cess. While counselors waited for students to seek them out and take the initiative, less advantaged students lacked the cultural knowledge to meet ­those expectations. First-­generation college students lacked self-­ confidence and looked to their counselors to provide encouragement, while counselors focused on giving realistic advice. ­These dif­fer­ent expectations and role understandings led to a lack of trust, a key part of social capital. The diverse nature of Park City and Evanstown high schools played a critical role in creating this discord. In the end, the brokering that occurred was only through the limited formal opportunities that existed for students to interact with counselors and gain information. ­These formal opportunities ­were sometimes enough for more advantaged students who came to schools with extensive college knowledge. When it was not, they continued to seek out the help they needed, “bothering” their counselors daily to get t­ hings done. It was in ­these help-­seeking, or informal interactions, where relationships w ­ ere formed and information was accessed. When less advantaged students did not engage in interactions with counselors like more advantaged students, they w ­ ere categorized as unengaged and unmotivated. Then when they did seek out counselors for help, they ­were met with frustration that they ­were ­behind in the pro­cess and a dose of “realism” that seemed to crush their dreams. As a result, trust between many of ­these students and their counselors was damaged. What emerged was a cycle of unmet expectations and misunderstandings that created guidance holes where ­there should have been deep connections. Infusing personal regard into interactions was one way that Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs.  Scott succeeded in bridging that gap. Mrs.  Ricardo’s strategies—­ such as seeking students out, modeling communication, and the marriage

When Brokering Fails • 89

analogy—­led to social exchanges that reinforced common expectations and shared understandings of the counselor’s role. Both Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Scott infused their student exchanges with personal regard that indicated they truly cared. Both ­women also examined the unique ways race and class structured students’ experiences and their interactions with school personnel. This was in contrast to other counselors, who focused on how class differences created challenges that required them to do every­thing twice, but who did not necessarily adapt their strategies. Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Scott acted as empowering agents who recognized that the institution created constraints for minority and working-­class students that they had to work through.36 Both Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Scott acted as institutional agents. Does that mean other counselors ­were gatekeepers? Gatekeeping at Park City and Evanstown high schools worked as orga­nizational brokering did—in the background and indirectly. Without other adults in their lives with college experience, first-­generation college students relied on counselors for college encouragement, when perhaps other students relied on parents with college experience for that cheerleader role. While first-­generation college students’ parents w ­ ere usually very encouraging, without college experience, students may have been less reassured. So when counselors discouraged their high ambitions, for some that was all it took for them to ­settle on less selective schools.37 ­Were counselors aware of how much influence they exerted on ­these students? I ­don’t have any evidence that this was the case; however, this is something that ­future research needs to address. Is gatekeeping ­today a by-­product of trying to provide more realistic advice in a college-­for-­all era? Or are counselors providing this advice more selectively, knowing that certain students ­will be more likely to respond? Lack of trust and positive relationships between students and counselors may have contributed to certain students taking such discouragement more to heart than ­others. When students thought that counselors ­were supposed to be the ones who believed in them, it was crushing when they instead tried to bring them down to earth. More interaction prior to ju­nior year and clear discussion of the role of the school counselor during the college application pro­cess might have made such advice less jarring. Stronger relationships might also encourage students to listen to their counselors more. Perhaps if t­here ­were more personal regard and caring in student–­counselor relationships, along with clearer expectations about the counselor’s role (i.e., a school counselor is ­there to provide advice to help you be successful long term, not blindly support all students’ dreams), then students would be able to deal with advice more productively. Some students gave up on their dreams too easily when counselors questioned them, and o­ thers like Mary reacted by ignoring all her counselors’ advice ­because she was hurt by one piece of it. Neither was helpful for students.

5

Opportunities or Opportunistic Marketing in Higher Education I arrived at Park City High School around 8:30 a.m. on a chilly February morning. ­Today was Instant Decision Day, an event that had been mentioned to me by numerous counselors as a key college event that I needed to observe. Despite attending the pre-­event workshop held for students yesterday after­noon, I was still a l­ ittle confused about the event and how it worked. At the workshop, Mr. Krakov, a longtime counselor at Park City High School who was a l­ittle theatrical, had introduced a number of his inspirational sayings, such as “Dress for Success,” and then used them to emphasize to students how to have a firm handshake and how to dress for interviews with college admissions officers. This did ­little to illuminate for me what the Instant Decision Day was all about. The best I could surmise was that it was a scaled-­down college fair. When I entered the library that morning, at first glance it did appear to be very similar to a college fair. About thirty or so two-­year and four-­year colleges and some less than two-­year trade and technical schools occupied the library ­tables, some with banners displaying their institution’s name, and stacks of college brochures. However, all t­ hese colleges w ­ ere local to the area and competitive or less competitive. ­These ­were schools that had rolling or very late application deadlines. Students w ­ ere not moving between the dif­f er­ ent schools, getting information and having informal conversations, like you would see at a typical fair. Instead, students clustered in the lobby of the library, waiting to be called for their interviews. ­Others who had already inter90

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viewed sat at the computer stations trying to print out their SAT scores to show schools or researching the schools they had just applied to. Yet o­ thers sat at t­ ables filling out applications. This event was much more high stakes than a typical college fair—­students w ­ ere interviewing with colleges and getting admissions decisions on the spot. At the event, I met Mary, whose lack of connection with her counselor I discussed in chapter  4. I was sitting with Mary, chatting with her and her friends about colleges, when she got called for an “interview” at a local less competitive school. Mary came over a­ fter her interview and excitedly said she got in. Her friend Lindsay was standing next to me and when she heard that Mary got in, she said, “I think I’m g­ oing to apply.” Mary got more excited and said she wanted to apply to another school. While this was very encouraging for the girls, it became apparent that neither girl knew much about any of the schools to which they ­were applying. Mary was pretty concerned about finances and when she looked at the pamphlets that the college had given her, she saw that it was close to $40,000. Not completely dejected, Mary said, “Well at least I got in somewhere.” Mary was very much caught up in the “apply for the sake of applying” excitement of the fair, and happy just to get in, despite the fact that she knew ­little about the school and could not afford to attend. Speaking with the counselors at the fair, it became apparent that students like Mary, who w ­ ere low achievers and lacked cultural knowledge about college, w ­ ere particularly targeted for this event. Mr. Whitmore told me that this event was a good opportunity for the lowest-­achieving students who might not get into college other­wise. He indicated that the larger college fair held in the fall, which attracted over one hundred schools, was for the first half of the bimodal distribution of the school. This fair was for “the second half.” For Mary and the rest of “the second half,” t­ hese fairs w ­ ere exciting, leading to many applications, and sometimes their first, buoying ac­cep­tances at four-­year colleges. While the counselors characterized t­ hese events as college opportunities for students, they w ­ ere also marketing events for the colleges, who ­were marketing to the most disadvantaged students at the school with the most limited college knowledge. The “second half” at Park City High School was like so many low-­income students trying mightily to reach their college dreams—­they had ­great aspirations but lacked the critical cultural knowledge about the college admissions pro­cess needed to secure their place at the kinds of institutions where they would have the best chance of success. Students like Mary know less about how institutions vary1 and ­little about financial aid policies.2 This makes them vulnerable to the marketing ploys of colleges, particularly less selective private colleges, which rely so heavi­ly on tuition dollars. In chapter 4, I showed how due to a lack of trust, students did not respond to counselors’ attempts to temper expectations. This contributed to students not

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seeking out help or information from counselors. However, ­those students who ­were put off by the approaches of the typical counselor ­were usually the most in need of college information. They also needed support from counselors or other disinterested individuals who could offer them guidance about college decisions—­not advice from college admissions officers with a stake in their college choice. At Park City and Evanstown high schools, less advantaged students like Mary ­were highly influenced by marketing, from offers of f­ree applications that they received in the mail, to on-­the-­spot admissions decisions at the Instant Decision Days. Much of the marketing ­these students ­were exposed to seemed to fill the guidance hole that had developed between them and their counselors. When Mary’s counselor had suggested she look at community colleges, she stopped listening to her counselor’s advice. When four-­ year colleges at the Instant Decision Day accepted her, Mary felt vindicated and encouraged that she was smart enough to attend such a school. The marketing of ­these less selective four-­year schools through “Student Choice” and “Academic Achievement” applications that waived the fee and the encouraging instant decisions at the fairs ­were the “cheerleaders” that ­these students so desperately wanted. Th ­ ese marketing strategies played on that lack of encouragement and students’ lack of cultural knowledge about college. Although Park City and Evanstown high schools billed t­ hese types of events as “opportunities,” such events left the least advantaged students vulnerable to marketing and students did not end up making ties with college admissions that could provide useful college knowledge.

Orga­nizational Ties In chapters 3 and 4, I discussed how Evanstown and Park City high schools brokered ties among students and between students and counselors (to varying degrees of success). In this chapter, I focus on another type of brokering—­ between students and colleges and between the high schools and colleges. Th ­ ese are orga­nizational ties, or connections made to other organ­izations or their representatives.3 In Mario Small’s study of childcare centers, he found that the centers brokered connections to many dif­fer­ent types of organ­izations, including government and city offices, elementary schools, nonprofits, community programs, and religious organ­izations.4 This brokering occurred in numerous ways, such as by displaying other organ­izations’ lit­er­a­ture, direct referrals to par­tic­u­lar ser­vices, and by hosting workshops and events through partnerships with outside organ­izations. Small found that ­these orga­nizational ties could be critical for parents, even t­ hose who did not take advantage of social ties with other parents in the centers. Parents could find out information

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that they might not other­wise have had access to about elementary school admissions, health care, and l­ egal ser­vices. Small’s work identified the benefits of t­ hese orga­nizational ties for the parents, and he discusses some mandates and norms that encouraged such organizational relationships, but we know less about the resources or benefits the centers derived from them. Mitchell Stevens’s ethnography of the admissions office at a small liberal arts college (The College), discussed the ties made between organ­izations, in this case high schools and The College, and how they w ­ ere mutually beneficial for both institutions.5 The College was able to draw on ­these connections to visit schools and connect with potential applicants. School counselors used ­these ties to draw admissions officers’ attention to par­tic­u­lar students and to make a case for their admission. Th ­ ese types of connections benefit both high schools and colleges, but they are also critical to students during the college admissions pro­cess. Students who attend high schools with established connections to par­tic­u­lar colleges are more likely to attend t­hose schools.6 Th ­ ese tried and true relationships have been particularly well documented at elite boarding schools. Shamus Khan’s ethnographic study of St. Paul’s Prep discussed the connections between school counselors and college admissions officers that ­were greatly relied on in the college pro­ cess (though his respondents ­were unwilling to divulge just how critical they actually ­were to getting their students into elite Ivy League colleges).7 Previously, Peter Cookson and Caroline Persell’s study of elite boarding schools also identified the importance of t­hese relationships for preserving class positions.8 At Park City and Evanstown high schools, school counselors and college admissions officers forged impor­tant relationships that could be mutually beneficial. The high schools also engaged in institutional relationships and exchanges with colleges, inviting colleges in to meet with students during college fairs, college representative visits, Instant Decision Days, and other events. In this way, the high schools brokered relationships between school counselors and college admissions officers, and between students and college admissions officers. On the one hand, students received an opportunity to be exposed to dif­fer­ent colleges and meet college admissions officers, potentially providing them with a social tie that could deliver impor­tant college information or help with the admissions pro­cess. It was not surprising that events like the Instant Decision Days at Park City High School, and a similar event at Evanstown High School, w ­ ere characterized by counselors as opportunities for students like Mary to get a chance at college. However, ­were the Instant Decision Days just providing students with college opportunities? At ­these and other events, colleges w ­ ere given the opportunity to introduce students to their schools and encourage more applications. Counselors ­were able

94  •  Divergent Paths to College

to make connections with admissions officers that they might need to help students ­later on. ­These events provided opportunities for the high schools to solidify their own connections with higher education institutions and build their social capital. In addition, counselors ­were u­ nder pressure from the school to make sure that all students applied to colleges. Getting students to apply at ­these fairs, and get accepted, boosted counselors’ numbers and the school’s college ac­cep­tance statistics. Was Park City High School actually brokering a connection for itself at Mary’s expense? Park City, in exchange for certain resources and benefits, was allowing colleges to come in and market themselves, sometimes aggressively, and sometimes to students like Mary who w ­ ere particularly vulnerable ­because they lacked cultural knowledge about the college pro­cess and support from their counselors.

The Marketing of Higher Education Perhaps one reason the Instant Decision Day at Park City was so confusing to me initially was ­because when I was applying to colleges almost twenty years ago, ­there was no such event. In recent years, the kinds of marketing and recruitment strategies higher education institutions engage in have changed dramatically. The rise of for-­profit colleges, which spend a g­ reat deal on marketing and recruitment, has forced nonprofit institutions, particularly less selective colleges vying for the same students as for-­profits, to engage in larger, more expensive and more aggressive marketing campaigns.9 I discussed earlier the changing nature of the college landscape and that although some schools have become increasingly competitive, many more have actually become less selective as the higher education marketplace has expanded.10 Richard Arum and colleagues argue that in deregulated systems where many institutions rely on private sector funding (such as the U.S. system), two kinds of institutions emerge: client seekers who need to generate enrollments to fund their institutions and status seekers who focus on prestige-­generating activities.11 While the status-­seeking institutions focus on becoming more selective, client seekers focus on marketing to generate revenues and actively seeking out applicants. It is in­ter­est­ing to note, however, that the l­ ittle research we have on higher education marketing has tended to focus on the activities of elite schools and has viewed marketing as a form of college outreach that can increase access and opportunity. Mitchell Stevens noted the many ways that The College attempted to market itself to prospective students, such as information sessions, trips for school counselors, college representative visits at high schools, and personal relationships with school counselors.12 Other work has viewed marketing and recruiting by highly selective schools as necessary and encour-

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aged, noting how a lack of such recruiting among rural, low-­income students can contribute to inequalities and undermatching.13 While institutional relationships with high schools are impor­tant, now colleges are also connecting directly with students. The way that colleges reach out to students is continually changing with technology and social media—­ colleges use Twitter, Instagram, email, text, and Facebook to connect with students. This direct connection occurs both inside and outside of institutional relationships. However, t­here is very ­little scholarly research on how ­these connections are made, what they look like, and how they influence students’ decisions. Despite this lack of scholarly research on the effects of marketing on students’ college decisions, college marketing influences students from the second they check the box saying they want to hear from colleges when they take the PSAT their sophomore year. Students at Park City and Evanstown ­were bombarded with marketing ploys on a daily basis by colleges and universities during their ju­nior and se­nior years. School-­sponsored events such as the Instant Decision Day ­were one type of marketing, but students also received letters, brochures, emails, calls, texts, and tweets from colleges, almost on a daily basis.

The Flattering ­Free Application One marketing strategy that many college and universities engage in is the use of directed mailings and emails that provide students with “priority” applications that promise faster notification dates or “preferred student” applications that waive application fees and/or essays. Applications can run from forty-­five to eighty dollars each, and while students who are on f­ ree or reduced price lunch can get a fee waiver, for working-­and even middle-­class students, application fees can pose a burden. A number of students I interviewed ­were paying their own application fees, which led them to put off applying to schools ­until they had saved up enough money. For example, Malcolm, a Black high-­achieving student at Evanstown High School whose parents did not gradu­ate from college, explained that he had already applied to schools that ­were ­free and had offered him special applications, but as for the other schools, “I had my common app filled out and it was just a ­matter of payments and I’m trying to work to make the payments for the rest of the schools. So, since ­those three ­were already ­free . . . ​Nichols [and] Scranton w ­ ere already paid for [by the schools themselves] and LIU (Long Island University), they offered me a Choice Student App.” Allora, a Black, moderate-­achieving se­nior at Evanstown High School who lived with her grand­mother and whose parents did not gradu­ate college, chose to apply to par­tic­u­lar universities ­because of the f­ ree applications.

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MEGAN:  ​Did that influence your decision to apply at all since it was f­ ree? AL LOR A:  ​For t­ hose? Yeah, ’cause I d ­ idn’t get the fee waiver b­ ecause I d­ idn’t

apply for a ­free lunch.14 MEGAN:  ​It can get kind of expensive when they are like fifty to sixty dollars an application. AL LOR A:  ​Yeah, and that would like turn my decision away, like, “Okay now I’m not gonna apply t­ here.”

The ease of priority applications also encouraged students to apply and was a par­tic­u­lar draw for ­those who tended to be put off or confused by the application pro­cess. Research suggests that completing aspects of the admissions pro­cess, such as filling out applications and writing essays, can be an obstacle for students.15 Mariah, who was on ­free and reduced lunch, was very motivated to go to college and had created a spreadsheet listing the colleges she planned on applying to when I met with her in late November of her se­nior year. She had only applied to three of the twenty-­one schools on her list, however, and all of ­these ­were “priority” applications. Mariah explained what the pro­cess was like for one of them: ­ ey’ve waived every­t hing. I d­ idn’t have to do anything on the application, Th it was literally putting information, my phone number—it was so funny ­because my cousin was, like, “you can do this right now, it w ­ ill take you two seconds.” I ­didn’t know my social security number, so I had to go home and find it, but I filled out the application in maybe ten minutes.

While ­these applications w ­ ere easy for Mariah to fill out, potentially lessening obstacles such as writing essays, listing activities, and seeking out additional information, their ease also meant that the decision to apply required l­ ittle thought or research into the school. Student–­institution fit is an impor­tant ­factor in increasing student per­sis­tence, college satisfaction, and social belonging,16 and when students apply to colleges without researching t­ hose characteristics that contribute to fit such as the academic and cultural environment, the location, and the religious and po­liti­cal climate of the campus, they may encounter challenges l­ ater on. Some moderate-­and low-­achieving students ­were very attracted to ­these offers ­because they ­were flattered by the attention colleges and universities ­were showing them by sending “preferred student” and “academic achievement” applications. Ashley was so flattered by a school’s interest in her, it became her first choice. ASHL E Y:  ​I know I wanted to go to Cairn University, it was in PA . . . ​I ­really do,

I ­really want to go to the school.

Marketing in Higher Education • 97 MEGAN:  ​What did you like about Cairn? ASHL E Y:  ​They r­ eally talk about how diverse it was. And they kept sending me a

lot of t­ hings even though I was, like, I ­can’t ­really qualify for this school as much as you think I [can]. I ­don’t know why you still keep sending me ­these ­things.

This feeling of being wanted by an institution also influenced students when making their enrollment decisions. Steven, a Black, moderate-­achieving student at Park City High School whose ­mother had graduated college and whose ­father had not, was recruited by five small liberal arts colleges to play baseball. He got into all five that he applied to, visited them, and engaged in correspondence with the coaches. Steven’s final decision was influenced by which school he felt wanted him more, based on the continued contact and recruiting by coaches. In fact, his ­father gave him the advice to “Pick the one that loves you.” J. T. got into a highly competitive local small liberal arts college that accepts less than 50 ­percent of its applicants and a very competitive small out-­of-­state liberal arts college that accepts fewer than 75 ­percent of its applicants. One reason that J. T. chose the very competitive school (which was less selective) was that he was perturbed that the highly competitive school did not notify him of their decision u­ ntil April. While April  1 is the common notification date among selective colleges, less selective schools tend to notify students as they get their applications. J.  T. did not know this, and when I asked him if the late notification date influenced his decision he said: “It actually did ­because I knew by November when the deadline was in February [for other schools] and so they [the highly competitive school] kind of constantly reviewed my application, so sometime in April they said, you know, “­you’re accepted, would you like to make the decision?” I said no. Actually, [I] turned it down.” In J. T.’s case, his lack of cultural knowledge regarding the dif­fer­ent timeline that more selective schools operated on, led him to interpret the late notification as a sign that the more selective school was not sure about him, and instead he went with the school that seemed to want him more. In chapter  4, I documented the challenges first generation and racial/ ethnic minority students faced in connecting with their counselors. One of the major issues students encountered was feeling like their school counselors had low expectations for them and w ­ ere too quick to suggest that they attend community college. This led to guidance holes between students and their counselors that prevented students from accessing critical college information. ­These dynamics contributed to less advantaged students being more drawn to schools that reached out to them and made them feel wanted. For example, Asha found that the four-­year college representatives she talked to ­were more encouraging than her counselor.

98  •  Divergent Paths to College

My guidance counselor, she’s okay. Sometimes I think she puts me down. Like when I came for college, she kept saying county, go to county, go to county. But when I talk to other ­people, not students, other grown-­ups and ­people who have went to college. In the college itself, they told me I had a chance. Like t­ here is . . . ​I can still go to their school.

This college admission officer filled a guidance hole for Asha—­providing her with the support and encouragement she needed. For other students like Ashley, Mariah, and Steven, college admissions officers also seemed to fill a hole—­ they made them feel “wanted” and took on that cheerleading role that students wanted counselors to fill. It is telling that ­these students, mostly racial minority and first-­generation college students, needed reassurance that they actually did belong in college. Although the college culture at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School was all consuming, and on the surface the vast majority of students did seem to buy into it, it seems that some students still had doubts that this message was ­really for them. In some ways, this is similar to arguments made by Pierre Bourdieu17 and other social stratification scholars18 about the way socie­ties work to reproduce in­equality. While socie­ties need youth to “buy in” and so encourage high aspirations, educational institutions consistently value ­factors such as race and class when conferring credentials, leading to a lowering of a­ctual educational expectations over time. More recent research on college aspirations and expectations showed that lower socioeconomic status students ­were more likely to have reduced and unrealized college expectations over time.19 Research has found that Black students’ abstract attitudes about education can be quite high, reflecting t­ hose of the dominant society. Their concrete attitudes, however, reflect understandings of the structural constraints they face and the belief that education does not guarantee mobility.20 It may be that something similar was occurring among the less advantaged students at Park City and Evanstown high schools—­that in line with other students at their schools and with societal norms, they stated college plans but did not actually expect them to happen. This led them to be quite taken with the statements of less selective colleges. Black students and first-­generation college students may also have had concrete attitudes that w ­ ere more reflective of the conflicting messages sent by Park City High School and Evanstown High School about college attendance. As I discussed in chapter 2, all students w ­ ere encouraged to go to college, and the norm came to be four-­year colleges among students, leading to a stigma associated with community college. This made it particularly difficult for students to stomach their counselors’ recommendations that they consider two-­year schools. It also made them won­der who t­ hese college messages w ­ ere ­really for if all they found ­were suggestions to look at community colleges.

Marketing in Higher Education • 99

This is similar to how Black students felt about enrolling in AP and higher-­ level honors classes at both high schools, as I discussed in chapter 3. While they ­were encouraged to take such classes, they ­were met with the real­ity of lower expectations, ignorant comments, and peer backlash. In a study of how moderate-­ achieving students navigate the college application pro­ cess, Audrey Devine-­Eller21 also found the school sent conflicting and contradictory messages about who college was r­eally for, leading some students to develop uninformed plans and to blame themselves when they failed to realize ­those plans. This is in line with social reproduction theories about how schools “cool out” students’ aspirations through vari­ous institutional pro­cesses and how this ends up translating into students feeling as though they are lacking in intelligence or other performance-­based criteria.22 Certainly, it seems as though similar dynamics ­were at play ­here as well. When contradictory messages are sent by schools and counselors about who is worthy of achievement and attainment, students are deeply affected, internalizing feelings of failure as Devine-­Eller found, or externalizing the need for confidence and support to college admissions officers, as I found at Park City and Evanstown high schools.

They ­Don’t Tell You It’s F­ ree for Every­one More advantaged and higher-­achieving students also received f­ree applications in an effort to entice them into applying. However, t­ hese students tended to be less impressed with the offers of ­free and “VIP” applications. Maggie, a high-­achieving Asian American student from Evanstown High School with college-­educated parents, described how now that she was finished applying to schools she was e­ ager to hit “unsubscribe” on the emails she was getting ­because, “I ­will get t­ hings and I am, like, ‘no way am I applying ­here.’ ” Similarly, Carrie said about a special application she got: “They send you an email kind of like, oh, it’s f­ ree. And then they d­ on’t r­ eally tell you it’s f­ ree for every­ one.” Carrie felt that the offer of a “­free” application was not as flattering as it first appeared and took this into account when making her decisions. Eco­ nom­ically, she was in a secure financial position and did not need to prioritize ­free applications in her decisions: her parents paid her application fees at the eight schools she applied to and also hired a private college counselor to assist her in the college pro­cess. Once they weeded through them, more advantaged and higher-­achieving students w ­ ere discerning in how they chose which ­free applications to take advantage of. This discernment indicated dif­f er­ent tastes that students had for dif­fer­ent schools, an ele­ment of their cultural capital.23 For example, Sally was applying to very selective schools, many in the Ivy League. When I asked her how she chose some of the schools she applied to, she explained: “I got emails from, like, Pitt and GW [George Washington University] with t­ hose VIP ­things. I never ­really thought about ­those schools before, but I was like, “Why

100  •  Divergent Paths to College

not?” I thought that out of all the schools that w ­ ere emailing me, they w ­ ere the most prestigious and the opportunity for a ­free application and not even having to write extra essays or supplements is so easy. You just click ‘submit.’ ” Maggie only used the f­ree applications to apply to a school she had already intended on applying to. When I asked her if any of the f­ree applications enticed her to apply, she said: “Not ­really. I knew I was ­going to apply to Fordham already. They waived my application fee and basically filled out my supplement for me, so that was ­really ­great.” Maggie was clear that ­free applications did not influence her application decisions, however. She said: “I ­wouldn’t wanna apply just to apply. ’Cause I ­don’t see a point in it. Even if I get into what­ever University, I know that I’m gonna say ‘no.’ ” Keith, a high-­ achieving White se­nior at Evanstown High School with college-­educated parents, said that the f­ ree applications encouraged him to apply, but would not affect his final enrollment decision. He said: “Yeah, it made me apply. I was, like, it’s ­free, might as well do it. I applied to anyone that waived the fee, but if it enticed my decision to go t­ here, no.” Among ­these more advantaged students, the “­free” application may have encouraged them to apply b­ ecause it required ­little investment on their end (in terms of money or time). Th ­ ese students focused on only applying to the most selective schools that contacted them.24 This may have led such students to cast a wider net of college applications, potentially increasing their final college choice options25 and ability to compare or negotiate financial aid packages. In this way, their advantaged financial position and higher levels of cultural knowledge allowed ­these students to use higher education marketing in ways that could reproduce their advantages in the admissions pro­cess.

Gaining an Advantage: The College Rep Visit Colleges and universities also engaged in on-­site marketing in the high schools. This included traditional college fairs, as well as other, more intimate events. The Instant Decision Day that Mary attended was one such event (which I ­will return to l­ ater in this section); however, as Mr. Whitmore noted, this event (and ­others like it at Evanstown), w ­ ere for the “second half.” Th ­ ese students ­were specifically identified when they had not applied to any colleges by late January, and ­were invited to see their counselor and personally encouraged to attend the Instant Decision Day. The “first half ” of the school—­the higher-­ achieving, mostly White and upper ­middle class students, ­were not invited to attend the Instant Decision Day. Instead, ­these students attended college representative visits, where college admissions representatives would visit the high schools, meet with small groups of students, give a short pre­sen­ta­tion, hand out lit­er­a­ture, and answer questions. Th ­ ese sessions occurred from September through November and ­were aimed at ju­niors getting a head start in their college search pro­cess and se­niors who w ­ ere in the midst of applying for

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January  1 deadlines. A range of schools held ­these visits, from Ivy League schools to competitive colleges. Most of the time, the representative conducting the session was the same person who would read the students’ applications, and making such a connection could be very advantageous for both students and college admissions officers. Both Park City High School and Evanstown High School hosted approximately forty to fifty of ­these visits each year. The number of students who attended the sessions varied from twenty or more for the most popu­lar to just a ­couple of students for less well-­ known schools. I attended and observed at fourteen of ­these visits (seven at each school). The college representative session held by Spelman University at Park City was an example of the kinds of connections students could make. The session was hosted by Kelsey Arnold, a college admissions representative from Spelman, and was attended by about eight Black se­nior girls, including Jordan and Amber, whom I l­ater interviewed. The session began with Kelsey asking each of the girls to go around and say what they w ­ ere thinking about majoring in or why they ­were interested in Spelman. Tina, who ran track, said her cousin went ­there and Kelsey seemed to know her. Darria said Spelman was her number one school. Amber said that one of her criteria for schools was g­ oing to an HBCU. ­A fter they finished speaking, Kelsey talked about programs offered at Spelman and opened up the floor for questions. The girls peppered her with concerns and questions: “Do you have a strong po­liti­cal science program? If I put a competitive major down on my application, ­will it make it harder to get in? If I put ‘undecided,’ w ­ ill it just look like I d­ on’t know what I want?” Kelsey responded to the girls’ concerns and questions, including many more about how you should contact college admissions officers and what you should say, how long a college essay should be, and getting and maintaining scholarships. The girls ended up getting general college advice and they also gave Kelsey advice about how best to market to students: the girls agreed that they did not ­really pay attention to emails or Twitter posts from colleges, since every­one got them. They all appreciated a letter or call a lot more. The information session was an example of one of the best results to stem from high schools brokering connections between students and college admissions officers. At the information session, students found out about the specific college hosting it, but they also got critical cultural knowledge about the application process—­the importance of SAT scores and essays, ­whether to declare a major or not, and what to say when you emailed a college admissions officer. Furthermore, they made an impor­tant connection with an admissions officer, who would most likely be the person to read their application. Jordan stuck around and spent time discussing her application, grades, and test scores with Kelsey and got advice about how competitive she might be for admission.

102  •  Divergent Paths to College

Like the Spelman session, at a visit hosted by Tufts at Evanstown High School the representative promoted Tufts, but also gave general college application advice. At the event, the representative made clear how competitive the school was and that it was not for every­one. He then gave students suggestions about ways to find a range of schools that might “fit.” Hannah attended a session for Pace University at Evanstown High School. She said: “It was ­really personal ­because it was me and my other friend. So it was kind of like ­we’re just having a conversation about the school and we got to learn a lot of ­things about it. I ­don’t know, it was appealing.” ­These representative visits did not overtly market to students and instead focused more on making connections and providing information. They allowed students who w ­ ere ahead or “on time” in the college pro­cess a chance to gather additional information about colleges and make that personal connection with the person reading their application. In this way, students who had cultural knowledge about the college pro­cess ­were able to translate that knowledge into social capital by attending ­these sessions and making a connection with an admissions officer, like Jordan did. The high schools served as brokers in this pro­cess by hosting the colleges, just as Small’s childcare centers served as brokers between parents and other city organ­izations by hosting workshops and other informational events.26

Applying for the Sake of Applying The second type of on-­site marketing event was held at dif­fer­ent times during the school year, but for Park City High School students it was very clearly aimed at ­those students who w ­ ere b­ ehind in the college application pro­cess and who had not applied to any colleges by mid-­February, whereas at Evanstown High School it was scheduled earlier in the pro­cess. At both schools, however, ­these events w ­ ere very dif­f er­ent from the college representative visits, where the focus was on getting information and finding a good “fit” between students and college. The idea of “fit”—­that the characteristics of an institution mesh with a par­tic­u­lar student’s preferences—­was commonly drawn on by students, school counselors, and private counselors that I spoke with. Private college counselors charged hundreds of dollars to work with students to develop lists of colleges that “fit.” Students evoked this when describing the feeling they got on campus visits when they knew a school was for them. Colleges and university administrators cite fit as a key ­factor in student per­sis­tence.27 While it seems as though fit was part of the college conversations that more advantaged students ­were exposed to, this was less true for less advantaged students. Instead, t­ hese students attended events where they applied to college and received decisions on the spot. While t­ hese types of events lessened the complexity of the college application pro­cess, they also encouraged an attitude of “apply for the sake of applying” among students, without also encouraging

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thorough research and informed decision making. This contributed to the attitude that attending any school was the goal, not attending the most selective or the school with the best fit. For students with low stores of cultural knowledge about college pathways, this was reinforcement that the specific characteristics of the school they attended mattered less than the fact that they attended any school. For some students, this may be true—­attending college (regardless of the characteristics of the school) has been shown to have beneficial effects, particularly for ­those least likely to attend.28 However, students who attend more selective schools tend to have higher educational and occupational attainment,29 and students who attend schools with a better “fit” have higher per­sis­tence and satisfaction rates.30 One of ­these events was the Historically Black College and University Fair that Evanstown High School took a group of Black students to each year in November. The fair was held at a local community college about thirty minutes away from Evanstown High School. I attended the fair both years that I was studying Evanstown High School. Many high schools attended the fair at the same time. Schools w ­ ere assigned to time blocks, e­ ither first entering the gym and attending the fair, or g­ oing into an auditorium and listening to speakers. The speakers varied and included information on grants and financial aid (though this focused just on Northeastern State31 grants), as well as talks by HBCU alumni about their experiences. In the gym, about twenty or so HBCUs set up small ­tables with banners, lit­er­a­ture, and applications. It could get very crowded, as Malcolm commented, “It was a lot of colleges, it was kind of crazy.” If a student had her transcript, she could get an instant decision. Many students did not bring transcripts and did not seem to research schools ahead of time, but still applied on the spot. Ms. Coriander said: “They [the students] ­were like ­cattle in the HBCU . . . ​it’s a small gym, last year was worse, ­there [­were more kids] last year. You have twenty minutes and then they call your [school’s] name and you have to leave out the back door while the kids are feverishly filling out incomplete applications and getting accepted.” Rob, a Black, low-­achieving se­nior at Evanstown High School whose ­mother had not graduated from college and had no contact with his f­ ather, said about the fair: ROB:  ​It was pretty encouraging and motivating. I mean, I ­wasn’t interested in

t­ hose colleges, but I think for other p­ eople it’s motivating and encouraging. . . . MEGAN:  ​Why was it encouraging? ROB:  ​ . . . ​­because . . . ​the requirements are 2.0, it’s giving you a chance if you messed up high school. So a lot of p­ eople that was, like, “Oh, I’m not even ­going to college,” it’s kind of like, “Oh, I have a chance ­here.”

104  •  Divergent Paths to College

Rob felt like it was encouraging to see schools that seemed to have higher ac­cep­tance rates; however, although Rob applied to a number of schools at the fair he could not remember their names and did not seem interested in them. While this was encouraging for some students, for o­ thers it was a turnoff. Allora was interested in attending an HBCU. While she began an application for a less competitive school at the fair, she did not end up completing it. AL LOR A:  ​It was a ­free [and] then I sent my transcript t­ here, but I said I ­didn’t

want to finish it. MEGAN:  ​Why? Did you, like, find out something about this school that you

d­ idn’t like? AL LOR A:  ​I felt like it prob­ably ­wasn’t that good of a school b ­ ecause they seemed kind of desperate, like trying to [get] p­ eople—­like they ­were, like, ­doing onsite admissions and stuff like that.

Many students at the HBCU fair ­were applying to schools and getting instant decisions, as a student suggested to his friend, “Just fill out the application, ­they’ll waive the fee, and you’ll get in.” While t­ hese easy ac­cep­tances ­were benefits to some students, like Rob, they could also put students like Allora, who was a higher achiever, off. HBCUs range in selectivity and serve an impor­tant role in postsecondary education for Black students and educators.32 Some students like Allora specifically sought out ­these institutions ­because of the experience they hoped to have t­here. However, the organ­ization and structure of the HBCU fair, and the lack of preparation and information provided by Evanstown High School, made it challenging for students to accurately assess ­these institutions and w ­ hether or not they met their needs. The atmosphere at Park City High School’s Instant Decision Days held in February and May also presented challenges to students in terms of evaluating schools. Similar to the way students characterized the HBCU fair, Mary’s and Lindsay’s experiences at the Instant Decision Day also seemed to focus on applying for the sake of applying. While both girls ­were excited and encouraged by the easy ac­cep­tances at the fair, they did not always pan out well for students. L ­ ater when I interviewed Mary, I talked with her about her experiences at the Instant Decision Day. Her guidance counselor, Ms. Radford, had encouraged her to attend. Although Mary had seemed excited about the fair at the time and buoyed by her ac­cep­tance, a few weeks l­ater she was not so positive. She said: “It was ­really hectic, disor­ga­nized and just kind of like rowdy. . . . ​ Every­one was accepted, which was odd and crazy to me ­because not every­one is accepted into the school that you want. So, it is just weird. I felt like it was a scam to get us in.” Despite Mary saying that every­one got in, Mary had not heard back from a competitive in-­state university, a school she had planned on applying to before she even saw its representatives at the event. At the event,

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she had applied and the admissions officer said he needed her SAT score and then she should call him. Mary said that at the end of the fair she provided her scores and he said: “ ‘Oh, thank you’ and gave me his business card. His name is Mr. Pano. I called him and left a message—my name and I told him I was at the on-­site basically following up and he never called back. So I ­don’t know what to do.” Mary was concerned ­because this was her first-­choice school. She had applied to two other private competitive out-­of-­state universities prior to the fair, but had not sent them her SAT scores: “They call me all the time, but I ­haven’t told them [my] SAT scores so they keep on emailing me, like, ‘Mary, you have to turn in your SAT scores.’ I d­ on’t know how to do it. My guidance counselor told me to go to College Board, but I’m, like, ‘How?’ I heard you have to pay ten dollars to have them submitted and I’m not paying. You could do it for ­free.” Mary’s confusion about how to submit her scores and concern about the cost was holding her up from finalizing ­these applications, and the lack of response from the competitive in-­state university did not bode well for Mary. Her one ac­cep­tance came with a hefty price tag, despite the fact that it was encouraging for her. In the end, Mary ended up attending Prince County Community College.

The Pressure for Students to Apply Mary’s experience with the Instant Decision Day was disappointing and did ­little to actually help her get into a four-­year university that she could afford. Mary’s cultural knowledge about the college admissions pro­cess was so low that it seems that the event only increased her confusion about submitting SAT scores: she was able to give them directly to the schools she applied to ­there, circumventing the College Board fee, leading her to believe she should not be required to pay anything to submit them to her other two schools. Mary’s ac­cep­tance at the Instant Decision Day bode well for Park City, however, ­because ­there was an internal pressure on counselors to make sure that all se­niors applied to a college. At both schools, starting in the early spring semester, lists ­were constantly generated of t­ hose se­niors who had not applied anywhere yet. Counselors therefore focused on contacting each of ­these students personally to invite them to the Instant Decision Days at Park City High School, or bring them in and encourage them to apply to two-­and four-­year colleges at Evanstown High School. In this way, the school took a much more active role in brokering connections between students and the less competitive colleges that attended the Instant Decision Day than they did in connecting students to colleges via representative visits. In my informal discussions with counselors while observing, they expressed ambivalence about instant admission events such as the HBCU fair and Instant Decision Days. While some felt that such events offered students opportunities that they might not have had, ­others questioned the long-­term consequences.

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According to a counselor I spoke to at Park City High School, students with GPAs below 2.0 would be accepted at schools like ­those that came to the Instant Decision Days, but he said the chance of them finishing more than a semester was very low. Another counselor at Evanstown High School said that almost any student could be accepted on the spot at the HBCU fair, even if his GPA was only slightly above a 1.5. She seemed to feel the entire event was not very professional—­she told me she had kids coming up to her with post-­its indicating their ac­cep­tance to college. Another counselor felt that the hasty decisions students ­were forced to make in the context of the HBCU fair sent the wrong message: “So I ­really ­don’t like the format. I think it’s ­really . . . ​it demeans the college pro­cess. You just got to fill out an application to be accepted and that’s their message to send.” This counselor said this message was in sharp contrast to the atmosphere of a traditional college fair that focuses on “information gathering.” At t­ hese fairs, t­ here was more opportunity for “more quality interaction between students and the admissions reps. . . . ​That’s why when in [a] college fair you have more time, ­you’re not sending applications, it’s more information gathering, talking, that kind of a ­thing.” Counselors not only questioned the idea of accepting students who might not be prepared for college and the message sent by such easy applications, but also saw a difference in the quality of interactions at t­ hese instant admissions events compared with other events. Looking at some of the colleges represented at the fairs, ­these concerns ­were not without merit. For example, the University of Bridgeport, a less competitive university, is similar to t­ hose that attended the Instant Decision Day. The school’s sticker price is close to $40,000, including room and board. However, only 27 ­percent of students gradu­ate in four years and only 30 ­percent in six years. Cheyney University, a less competitive university, was similar to ­those that attended the HBCU fair. For out-­of-­state students, the cost was more affordable than Bridgeport at around $24,000 (including room and board). Graduation statistics w ­ ere low, however, with only 10 ­percent graduating within four years and 22 ­percent within six years. In comparison, State University, a competitive school, which attended the big college fairs hosted by both Evanstown and Park City high schools in October, cost about $24,000, including room and board, and graduated 56 ­percent of students within five years and 61 ­percent within six years.33 While ­these basic statistics do not tell us every­thing about a school, or about how well a student might “fit,” the high prices and low graduation rates w ­ ere of concern to many counselors and are also indicative of prob­lems students are facing nationwide. According to a recent report by the Pew Institute, student loan debt has increased in the last twenty years and ­those young adults who have degrees and student loan debt are less able to accumulate wealth compared with their similarly educated peers without debt.34 Black students are more likely to take on loans, and more

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likely to default on them.35 While it’s true that t­ hose who take on debt to complete their college education earn more than t­ hose who are not college educated,36 putting them on the way to repaying their debt, the low graduation rates at less competitive schools makes this a challenge. Research has found that only a few years of college, without a credential, adds ­little to an adult’s earning potential.37 Despite their ambivalence, counselors did ­little to inform students about how to make good decisions prior to attending ­these events. Both schools held workshops to prepare students, but neither discussed how to pick a school, what to look for, or how to make a decision about fit. Counselors told students to let them know which colleges they w ­ ere interested in and handed out lists of the colleges whose representatives would be attending, but they did not discuss how students should go about choosing schools. Instead, both sessions emphasized dressing appropriately and having a firm handshake, and made the assumption that students would come to the event with a list of schools that they had researched on their own. Approximately 65  ­percent of students in my sample whose parents had a college education attended a college representative visit; only 48  ­percent of students’ whose parents did not attend college attended a representative visit.38 It is likely that the opposite is true for the instant admissions events, particularly the ones held at Park City High School. More advantaged students possessed the cultural knowledge needed to seek out information about college representative visits and decide on their own accord (or with the encouragement of their parents), to attend. In contrast, for the Instant Decision Days, counselors specifically sought out t­ hose students ­behind in the pro­cess and encouraged them to attend, taking a more active role in brokering this contact. Lower-­achieving students ­were not encouraged earlier on to attend the college representative visits: students had to seek out t­ hese earlier opportunities on their own. However, it was the college representative visits that seemed to offer more opportunities for students to learn about schools (prior to making the decision to apply), which could help them get a head start on the college pro­ cess, and also potentially increase their social capital through a personal connection to an admissions officer, which might influence their admissions chances.39

College Admission Officers and School Counselors: Mutual Exchanges ­ fter speaking with students and counselors about their experiences with the A college admissions pro­cess, I wanted to understand the admissions officer’s perspective. How did they view ­these types of marketing events? How impor­ tant ­were relationships with counselors and high schools? To answer ­these and other questions, I interviewed five college admissions officers from local

108  •  Divergent Paths to College

two-­and four-­year, public and private colleges and universities. When pos­si­ ble, I tried to interview the admission officer who would be reading applications from Park City High School or Evanstown High School, or both. For the admissions officers I spoke with, connections with par­tic­u­lar high schools and counselors ­were very impor­tant, just as they ­were to counselors at the high schools. I spoke with Lila Bennett, an admissions officer at a private very competitive university that had developed a close relationship with Evanstown High School. Lila explained how the college representative visits allowed the university to update counselors on what was new about the school, as well as meet with students. She said: Evanstown also invites [us] in to do special pre­sen­ta­tions to ­either the ju­niors and their parents or we also go in and talk about science opportunities. In fact, I have an invitation to go over t­ here. It is so wonderful, we have a g­ reat relationship t­ here right down the road. We also invite counselors h ­ ere for workshops so that they understand a lot more about the college pro­cess so that they can send that information to their students, you know, what are we looking for and what our schools have, how we read applications, how impor­tant is their essay, so we are all about communication with t­ hose schools.

Sociologists George Homans and Peter Blau both discuss how at its most basic, society is made up of small group exchanges.40 ­People act instrumentally in their interpersonal exchanges and need to gain something from that exchange that benefits them or they would not continue to engage in the relationship. The admissions officer–­school counselor relationship was one of mutual exchange that benefited both. This relationship was beneficial to the university ­because it gave them a way to advertise their school to counselors and to students. By keeping counselors aware of the university and any new programs, they ­were banking on counselors steering potential students their way. When I asked why more students from Evanstown tended to attend the university than ­those from Park City, though both w ­ ere quite close geo­graph­i­cally, Lila identified the university’s close relationship with Evanstown as one potential reason: “We reach out to [Evanstown] a lot more often and the counselors know us. So that’s another reason, I think. The counselors talk us up.” In return for this advertising, the university hosted professional development events for Evanstown counselors to help them learn more about the admissions pro­cess, and admissions officers ­were also willing to take an extra look at an application if a high school counselor made a phone call and advocated for their student, even if it was past the application deadline. If it is borderline, if a student has an advocate such as their guidance counselor or a teacher that w ­ ill go beyond the traditional recommendation and they take

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the time to call us up and say, “Hey, can we set up a phone time?” we can chat and they can tell us. If we hear from them that [we are the student’s] first choice. . . . ​And if the student ­really wants to come ­here and it’s a ­little bit of a reach for them, [this] kind of tells us that they might be successful b­ ecause it’s something they ­really want and they would appreciate being admitted to the school.

Lila noted how Evanstown was particularly good about advocating for their students and how ­these types of exchanges w ­ ere noted and kept as part of the student’s file as something to consider during the application pro­cess. School counselors w ­ ere also aware of the importance of t­hese types of social exchanges and drew on t­ hese to demonstrate their professional expertise. Mr. Manchester, a counselor at Park City, used his relationships with college admissions officers to help a student get in. I just had to bail out a private counselor b­ ecause some of the schools she gave this one par­tic­u­lar youngster, none of them worked out for her, so I had to make some phone calls, and send an email to a ­couple of my contacts [at the colleges] and we w ­ ere able to get him into a ­couple of schools. Actually, we got him into a school he wanted to get into. He was put on a wait list and I sort of got in touch with the admissions director, spoke to her, and she was g­ reat. And she was able to take him off the wait list.

Relationships between individuals as well as institutional relationships ­ ere impor­tant for both universities and high schools in the college admisw sions pro­cess. At their most basic, ­these relationships ­were ­really about exchanges of beneficial goods between admissions officers and counselors. James Coleman views ­these exchanges as the creation of obligations between social actors. For example, if Mrs. Ricardo at Evanstown calls Lila Bennett and asks her to consider a student’s application a­ fter the deadline, and that student gets in, then Mrs. Ricardo might feel an obligation to suggest the university to ­future students she counsels. For Coleman, ­these types of interactions and obligations also make up social capital. For much of this book, I have been focusing on the student’s access to capital via parents, friends, counselors, and admissions officers. However, the social capital created and maintained through relationships between institutions and the individuals within them ­were also key. While the social capital developed between high schools and higher education institutions could certainly be beneficial for some students by exposing them to a new college or assisting in their chances of admission (as it did for Mr. Manchester’s student), it also had the potential to be detrimental to ­those students like Mary who w ­ ere particularly vulnerable to higher education

110  •  Divergent Paths to College

marketing. To maintain institutional relationships, the high schools had to open themselves up and allow colleges to advertise to students through college representative visits, college fairs, and instant admissions events. ­These events ­were framed by school counselors as opportunities to expose students to dif­ fer­ent colleges, but they w ­ ere still marketing opportunities for the colleges. Through ­these events, the high schools ­were brokering connections between college admissions officers and both counselors and students, leading to exchanges, obligations and the development of social capital. For less advantaged students who had l­ittle college knowledge, however, such connections could be overly influential in their college choice pro­cess, and potentially steer them ­toward less desirable options.

Economic Pressures in the College Admissions Office Admissions officers w ­ ere approaching the fair from a marketing standpoint. From my observations and interviews with college admissions officers, it was clear how impor­tant application and enrollment numbers w ­ ere, especially for the private schools that w ­ ere struggling due to the recent recession. Students and their families ­were more concerned about cost than ever, leading many of ­these schools to experience a drop in numbers and for public schools to see an increase. An admissions officer at a regional competitive state university said that during the most recent application season, they had seen an increase in the quality of their candidates, leading them to increase their standards and create a wait list for the first time in almost twenty years. Due to the higher number of higher-­quality candidates, they offered less in financial aid than in years past. In contrast, when talking to Lila, she told me that their application numbers ­were down and they ­were finding that many students ­were unable to pay tuition in time for registration. Rachel Steiner, an admissions officer at a local competitive private college, described a similar situation at her university. In contrast to the financial aid policies at the state university, the policy at Rachel’s institution was to give a scholarship with e­ very offer of admission. A student’s scores and the time of their application would influence the amount of their scholarship. As a result, 94 ­percent of their students received some type of financial aid. In the local context, the regional state university was increasing its standards and decreasing its financial aid, making it a less ­viable option for low-­income students. At the same time, the private universities ­were experiencing a decrease in numbers. This led one school to offer scholarships to ­every admitted student—­a practice that may be deceiving to students and their parents, who may not be able to distinguish between the true cost of dif­fer­ent institutions. In light of ­these realities, marketing was crucial. Colleges and universities engaged in targeted marketing campaigns that allowed them to track

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t­ hose students who showed interest. Janelle Lippman, an admissions officer at the regional state university, told me how they would engage in an enrollment campaign through the mail. [We send] something that kind of gets their attention, that makes it kind of unique, and then the front of the post card . . . ​has a link to a personalized URL, so if they go in t­ here [it ­will say], “Hi Glenda, this is what [regional state university] has to offer education majors.” . . . ​A nd then we can kind of report on how they click through it, how many p­ eople have gone through it, how far ­they’ve gone and we can do kind of a report on that and see if t­ here are other prospects. Then once we send that, we kind of do a follow-up, like I think in three weeks, an email to that population again and saying, hey, have you checked it out yet. So kind of like another [last]-­ditch effort to see if ­they’ll correspond to us.

Such universities ­were actively trying to track and capture the attention of prospective students. Lila discussed a similar marketing campaign that tracked ­whether individual students checked out the website and then targeted emails to that student. Rachel explained to me the pressure she felt as an admissions officer to increase the number of tuition deposits: ­every week, a memo was sent out to all admissions officers listing the number of applications, ac­cep­tances, and deposits for the last three years.

Conclusions Examining the application be­hav­iors of the students that I interviewed, I found that students who had at least one college-­educated parent submitted an average of two and a half applications to most or highly competitive colleges, while t­ hose without a college-­educated parent submitted an average of one application to a most or highly competitive college. Overall, 22 ­percent of students with a college-­educated parent attended a most or highly competitive college, whereas only 10  ­percent of ­those without a college-­educated parent did. In an age when the name of the college you attend has more power, particularly for ­those traditionally underrepresented at such institutions, ­these differences are concerning. The reasons ­behind them are many, and certainly the differences in achievement among students in my sample plays a part. For example, students who had a parent who was college educated ­were more likely to be high achievers (46 ­percent) than low achievers (20 ­percent), while the opposite was true for students who did not have a college-­educated parent (17 ­percent ­were high achievers and 44 ­percent ­were low achievers). Th ­ ese differences in achievement may be due in part to some of the orga­nizational pro­cesses that I have discussed in this book, such as curricular tracking. Black

112  •  Divergent Paths to College

students ­were missing out on taking honors and AP classes ­because they felt uncomfortable in ­those classes due to the racialized nature of the tracking system, and counselors and teachers w ­ ere not seeking to understand some of the social and structural reasons ­behind the racial (and most likely class) disparities between class levels. This likely contributed to disparities in achievement. Students’ lack of college information and the ways the schools brokered connections unequally to dif­fer­ent types of colleges ­were key in influencing differential college outcomes. Although all students experienced marketing, the schools played an impor­tant brokering role in how they connected students to colleges of varying levels of selectivity. Brokering occurred when the high schools invited colleges in (such as the college representative visits and Instant Decision Days) or brought students to colleges (such as the HBCU Fair). In this way, Park City and Evanstown high schools created orga­nizational ties between counselors and college admissions officers, and between students and college admissions officers. However, ­there w ­ ere inequalities in the types of connections that the high schools facilitated between students and colleges. Less advantaged students w ­ ere encouraged to attend instant admissions events, which offered opportunity, but a lack of information, and instead contributed to students’ beliefs that attendance at any four-­year college was the ultimate goal. College representative sessions on the other hand ­were more intimate opportunities for students to meet a representative one on one and gain information and make a social tie, as opposed to being pressured to apply and gain an ac­cep­tance. As t­ hese sessions w ­ ere earlier on in the year, ­there was also less pressure on admissions officers to solicit applications. Although they ­were still focused on marketing their school, the “sale” did not have to happen immediately. This may be why admissions officers seemed to approach ­these marketing events more as informational opportunities. In fact, Lila Bennett told me about a student who came to her information session at Park City High School whose GPA was below the university’s average. She bridged a hole for that student and suggested another local college, then made an introduction to the other admissions officer at the larger college fair, which happened to be held ­later that day, facilitating an impor­tant social connection for that student. The atmosphere at the HBCU Fair and the Instant Decision Days ­were not conducive to this type of guidance or the development of this type of social capital. Th ­ ese events w ­ ere described by students and counselors as crazy, disor­ ga­nized, and rowdy. The focus for students was on gaining ac­cep­tances and they frequently got caught up in the excitement of applying for applying’s sake, not on making helpful connections or gaining information. Less advantaged students ­were further disadvantaged by the failed brokering of connections with counselors. Students at Park City and Evanstown high schools felt as though their counselors had low expectations for them when counselors suggested two-­year over four-­year colleges, which was par-

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ticularly hurtful for ­these students when four-­year colleges w ­ ere seen as the “norm” at their school. This created guidance holes: spaces between students and guidance counselors where ­there ­were no network connections and a lack of social capital. ­These structural holes can be opportunities for individuals or institutions to step in and broker new connections. They can also be opportunities for higher education institutions to take advantage of a lack of knowledge and support. Negative experiences with school counselors may have led students to be even more vulnerable to higher education marketing b­ ecause it gave them the encouragement they did not receive from their counselors. While college admissions officers can be excellent sources of information, and perhaps fill that hole in a positive way as Lila Bennett did for the student she met at the college fair, admissions officers may not always offer objective advice or the same type of guidance as a school counselor. It is quite troublesome that some of the most vulnerable college applicants are without trusted advisors in the pro­cess and are looking to the colleges themselves for guidance. The high schools also created orga­nizational ties between counselors and college admissions officers by inviting colleges in and creating mutually reciprocal relationships. The high schools provided colleges with opportunities to advertise to students and the colleges hosted workshops for counselors, students, and teachers. As relationships deepened, counselors turned to college admissions officers to give par­tic­u­lar students a boost in the pro­cess, and colleges relied on counselors to suggest their schools to students. ­These relationships had benefits for students, but also highlight the importance of student–­ counselor connections in the pro­cess. ­These orga­nizational ties and the contexts in which they w ­ ere forged (college representative sessions versus Instant Decision Days) w ­ ere influenced by the cultural knowledge students had to draw on when choosing to attend college representative visits and in evaluating college marketing. More advantaged students approached college marketing from a privileged position—­ they used ­free applications when they fit into their overall application plans, saving themselves time and money, and potentially bettering their final choice positions, and used college representative visits as a way to make personal connections with admissions officers, express interest in a school, and gain information. In contrast, less advantaged students lacked knowledge of how the pro­cess worked. They did not discern among the offers of f­ree applications they received and sometimes had to apply to t­ hese schools b­ ecause they lacked the funds to pay application fees. Most dif­fer­ent from more advantaged students, they ­were ­eager and excited to apply to schools that expressed interest, while this turned other students off. Cultural knowledge worked to help students gain social capital (e.g., through attending college rep visits) and this social capital served to reinforce and add to students’ stores of cultural knowledge about how the college pro­cess worked.

6

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

­ fter the development of college aspirations, the college searching and the A applying, is the most impor­tant decision of all—­where ­will you attend? For students, this is the culmination of years of academic effort and months of anxiety. For colleges, it is just part of the market, select, then market again cycle: now they must go about convincing the students they have selected to attend. The end result, their yield, is critical to rankings and to financial bottom lines. The end result for students is critical in far more ways: it ­will influence their chance of graduating, their debt load, their access to social networks, and their employment chances for years to come. Considering this, it makes sense that much of the research on college choice has focused on two ­things: college aspirations and college enrollment. The logic being that to get to college, students need to first decide they want to go, then they need to actually enroll. While ­these steps are crucial, I have demonstrated throughout the last three chapters that ­there are many small decisions that need to happen in between, during the college search and application pro­cesses. Much of this is information gathering—­how students learn about dif­fer­ent colleges and the application pro­cess and whom they go to for help. Initial differences in information (or capital) are magnified throughout this pro­cess as some students gather more and more information. Therefore, in the end, college enrollment decisions are about much more than just preferences, or even a cost–­benefit analy­sis when evaluating complex financial aid packages. College enrollment decisions are structured earlier on in a student’s high school c­ areer and are 114

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 115

directly related to their search and application pro­cesses. In this way, the college “choice” is not as much of a choice as it appears, nor is ­there always much to choose from. At Park City and Evanstown high schools, students are tracked early on into dif­fer­ent enrollment outcomes based on which classes they take and who their friends are, how a­ dept they are at interacting with their counselors, and which college events they attend. This is in addition to the dif­fer­ent kinds of cultural knowledge students are exposed to at home through their parents and their parents’ networks. In this chapter, I examine how students make that final decision and what ­factors come into play. Overall, I find that for many, their choices have been structured by earlier application decisions.

Enrollment Decisions During my time at Park City and Evanstown high schools, I interviewed a subsample of students multiple times, eight randomly chosen students twice their se­nior year, and nineteen students once their ju­nior year and twice their se­nior year. Four years a­ fter ­those nineteen students graduated high school, I followed up with them.1 I wanted to find out, in what ways had their college application experiences in high school informed their college experiences? How w ­ ere they faring four years l­ ater? I was able to interview eleven of ­those students. I traveled to their college campuses or hometowns for most interviews and conducted three ­others via Skype. I bring in some of this data ­here, and more in chapter 7, to understand individual students’ stories across the application, enrollment, and college experience. This data allows me to trace the trajectories of individual students over time, so that we can see the connections between their cultural knowledge, counselor, and college application experiences, and their postsecondary pathways. The students that I interviewed fell along a large spectrum in terms of the choices they faced when making enrollment decisions, from no choice to many. How they got t­ here was influenced by the access they had to college information along the way. Students ­were influenced by this information when making decisions to an extent, but t­ here w ­ ere also similarities across social backgrounds, as students did their best to balance finances, selectivity, and g­ reat expectations.

Malcolm and Carrie: Dealing with Disappointment Malcolm is a Black, high-­achieving young man whose parents ­were not college educated who attended Evanstown High School. Carrie is a White, high-­ achieving young w ­ oman with college-­educated parents who attended Park City High School. I began interviewing both of them while they w ­ ere ju­niors, then followed up se­nior year, and fi­nally four years ­later when both w ­ ere just about to gradu­ate college.

116  •  Divergent Paths to College

I met Malcolm in the spring of his ju­nior year. He struck me as quite serious and contemplative during our first interview, but over time as we got to know each other each year, he became more talkative and open. Malcolm grew up in Urban City and moved to Evanstown in ­middle school, which he felt was very impor­tant in terms of his educational trajectory. Although he had been thinking about college, “Since I was four,” it was in an abstract sense without much solid information about his options. “When I was a kid, I wanted to go to State University and u­ ntil I moved ­here [Evanstown], I ­didn’t realize that ­there are more options than State University.” Attending Evanstown High School sparked an interest in writing when Malcolm got involved with the school newspaper. Malcolm knew he wanted to study En­glish in college, which he did end up majoring in. During his ju­nior year, Malcom mentioned being interested in a few colleges with high-­ ranked En­glish departments, such as Ithaca, Northwestern, and Northeastern University. He talked to his counselor who suggested a number of schools such as Fordham University and the University of Delaware. Between his ju­nior and se­nior year interviews, Malcolm met with the college and ­career counselor and his school counselor. He attended a summer workshop on the common application held at Evanstown High School. Malcolm knew ­there was a lot to the college pro­cess and tried to figure ­things out by attending t­ hese and other events and visiting his counselor numerous times. When I talked with him his se­nior year, he was still interested in Northeastern and Northwestern, but he also had had a talk with his ­father about his college options and was “brought back down to earth.” His f­ ather said: “I know t­ hose are the schools that you think you can get into but long-­term, do you think you can stay t­ here? ­Because your freshmen year, alright you are t­ here for a year, but you ­don’t know what’s gonna happen in your sophomore, ju­nior [years]. In ju­nior year, you prob­ably ­can’t afford it or you ­can’t keep up the grades, or it’s too much.” Malcolm realized that he needed to let go of some “pipe dreams.” He told himself: “Okay, that’s what you want, but you ­can’t always get what you want. You have to stay within your range.” ­A fter this conversation, Malcolm shifted his attention to schools that he felt he had a better chance of getting into, where he could be successful, and that he could afford. His counselor suggested Bryant University and Susquehanna, and he ended up applying to t­ hose, along with Fordham, which was the only school he ended up visiting. Although he said that Ithaca was his “number one school,” he also liked Fordham. When I interviewed Malcom in December of his se­nior year, he had about six colleges he was planning on applying to but was hampered in submitting his applications due to finances. He had only submitted three, all f­ree applications, and was working odd jobs to pay for the other applications as his parents ­were only paying for half of the costs.

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When I interviewed Malcom in the spring of his se­nior year, his dreams had gotten another dose of real­ity. He ended up applying to five colleges and got into four of them; however, financial concerns emerged as paramount in the college choice pro­cess. His f­ ather wanted him to attend community college, but Malcom refused. He said that he had worked too hard and for him to go to County, “that’s like a m ­ iddle fin­ger to all my teachers, that’s a m ­ iddle fin­ger to every­one who [helped] me along the way.” Malcolm ended up choosing the one public university he had applied to at his counselor’s suggestion, though he had fought her about it for a year. He told her: “No, I’m not ­going to a public school. I would be on crack before I go to a public school.” Fi­nally, he broke down and said, “You know what, okay, let me just apply and see what happens.” Malcolm had resisted the idea of a public college or university for so long ­because he was ­under the impression that private schools ­were better. Looking back, Malcolm wished he would have considered more public schools that he could afford. “I wish I ­would’ve brought in my school [the public university he deci­ded to attend] earlier b­ ecause I was only focused on private schools. And if I started with public and private schools, [then] I c­ ould’ve narrowed down easier. I ­could’ve gone to a public school in [a nearby state] or something like that.” He was so focused on private colleges and universities ­because, “I’m ­going to be honest, whenever y­ ou’re a kid, like, y­ ou’re told the best schools for education are private schools. That’s where you can get the best education and that’s where all the money is, that’s where the jobs are, that’s where the connections are. But as I’ve found out on my own for the past two years, it’s not true. It r­ eally ­isn’t.” Malcolm’s choice was further limited to the public, in-­state university due to m ­ istakes he made on the FAFSA. “The first time I inputted the wrong information. ­There was a ­whole section missing and the second time I did it and I missed—­I inputted the wrong numbers and so a few months ago, I just did it again and then it was all right, but it was too late.” Only his parents helped him with the form, as he felt the information was too sensitive to involve his counselor. Malcom ended up attending a public, in-­state university, ranked as competitive, versus Fordham, which he got into, which was ranked as highly competitive. When I interviewed him four years l­ater, Malcolm was about to gradu­ate college and looking into jobs in advertising. Malcolm’s journey was a series of downward adjustments of his expectations, first by his f­ ather, then by the real­ity of his financial situation. Some of the downward trajectory was related to his lack of cultural knowledge about college type versus selectivity levels, which influenced and limited his college search. Looking back four years l­ater, Malcolm also felt that his social network limited his options. He waited u­ ntil se­nior year to talk to teachers and peers about college. “I feel like I waited too late to do that and so had I done

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that ju­nior instead of like, early se­nior year, I w ­ ould’ve gotten more insight and more benefits, and more information on how the pro­cess is and how it works and all the other information.” In par­tic­u­lar, Malcolm felt he could have learned about the college representative visits. Malcolm was also hampered by a lack of trust in his counselor. When he was switched to her his sophomore year, he thought, “Okay, this lady, she d­ oesn’t know what she is d­ oing.” He then had difficulty taking her advice about applying to a public, in-­state university, due to his belief that private schools ­were better. Looking back se­nior year, he felt that she was helpful to him; however, four years ­later he felt that she was the one who tried to dampen his expectations and consistently tried to steer him t­oward less selective schools. It’s unclear exactly what the dynamics of the relationship w ­ ere then, but it is clear ­there ­were some issues that led Malcolm not to trust his counselor enough to seek her help with the FAFSA, which influenced Malcolm’s lack of college options. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that Carrie’s story is also one of dampened aspirations over time, though her educational trajectory is very dif­fer­ent from Malcolm’s. Carrie, a talkative young ­woman with dark hair, had lived in Park City all her life. Carrie began ju­nior year wanting to attend an Ivy League university, and with a 4.3 GPA and an SAT score over 2000, this was not unrealistic. Carrie had a significant amount of cultural knowledge about college and a very knowledgeable social network to tap into. Carrie spent her ju­nior year visiting colleges and gathering information by talking with her parents, her older ­brother, and her b­ rother’s friends. She and her parents set about changing counselors ­because she was unhappy with her lack of relationship with Mrs. Rogers. “I know it’s, like, a big school, but I ­didn’t feel like she was ­really, not that she ­didn’t care about me, but I d­ on’t think she knew my name and I ­don’t know. I just ­didn’t feel that she was helpful for me.” Mrs. Rogers had also advised her to take a lower-­level class at one point, and Carrie was very unhappy that she had taken her advice. With the college application pro­cess coming up, “I knew that in my ju­nior year, it was gonna be more of an effect on me and my college application experience with my guidance counselor, so I thought I d­ idn’t have a good one and I would be a lot happier if I did.” She talked with her new counselor about potential colleges and also hired a private college counselor. Carrie began her college search pro­cess by casting a wide net. She visited schools that varied along a number of dimensions, from Georgetown University to the University of Mary­land. By se­nior year, however, she had narrowed ­things down. “I think that my idea for what I want in a college has gotten dif­ fer­ent ­because some t­ hings have become stricter. Like, I know that I want or need something. And I know other ­factors have become less prominent in my decision.” Carrie was interested in journalism, and a­ fter she spent her summer taking college classes at an Ivy League university, she was set on her major, and

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on the school, which she applied to early decision her se­nior year. In total, she applied to nine colleges. Carrie consulted multiple ­people during her application pro­cess to “check in” about her list of schools, including her school counselor and a private counselor, whom she worked with extensively on her college essay. Her choices ­were well researched and she had visited most of the schools she applied to. Carrie’s expectations w ­ ere dashed, however, once ac­cep­tances began rolling in, or in her case, the rejections. Carrie was deferred, then rejected from her first-­choice school. She only got into one college, and was wait-­listed at another. Carrie visited Skidmore, the only college she got into, but did not think she would fit in, and was disappointed that they did not have the kind of journalism program she wanted. Overall, Carrie was confused and saddened by how the college pro­cess had worked out for her. She talked about Smith College, a school she was r­ eally excited about applying to. It was high on my list ­because . . . ​they have a ­really ­great program that they ­really support and like to pursue and advertise and put out ­there. And also, I felt I was qualified to go t­ here, and by statistics I was qualified to go t­ here. So, it’s kind of surprising when I ­didn’t get in. Other ones I kind of saw coming, ­because ­either their admissions are extremely challenging, or it was a small liberal arts school and ­those you never know with admissions. But Smith, I felt like I was g­ oing to get in.

Carrie ended up getting into the school she was wait-­listed at, which was more selective than Skidmore, but not as selective as the Ivy League. She and her parents met with the head of the counseling department at Park City High School to talk about her options, specifically about transferring so that she could still try to get into a more selective school. ­A fter that conversation, however, she found out that the chances of getting admitted as a mid-­year transfer w ­ ere slim and w ­ ere even more unpredictable than regular admissions. Carrie deci­ded to attend the school she was admitted to off the wait list, but was disappointed by the ­whole pro­cess. Looking back, she said: I d­ on’t like to say that t­ here are ­things that I often think about, like I wish my guidance counselor had told me to apply to more safeties, or take, like, a higher level of something, or not done this or done this. But t­ here’s not ­really anything you can change, so you kind of have to accept what y­ ou’re given. If I’m ­going to pretend that I could do t­ hings differently, I prob­ably would have applied to just more schools in general.

I interviewed Carrie four years ­later, a­ fter she graduated from the college she was so disappointed to have to attend. She had pursued her interest in

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journalism at the college through her major and a number of extracurricular activities and clubs she had joined. Carrie’s parents had paid for all four years of college and finances ­were never something she had had to worry about. Overall, she had enjoyed her four years in college and talked a lot about how the school was actually very selective and academically challenging. The college admissions pro­cess is challenging and unpredictable for many students. Both Malcolm and Carrie had high hopes for college, but over time had to reframe their expectations and “­settle.” Dashed dreams and disappointments affect all students during the unpredictable college application pro­cess, even more so as colleges admissions get more competitive. Malcolm and Carrie felt they had done a lot to prepare and secure their success. Each had access to vastly dif­fer­ent resources for that preparation, though, as Carrie tapped into a large social network of friends and relatives, whereas Malcolm did not know that he should have been talking to friends and peers. Carrie and her parents also demanded better assistance when they requested a counselor change, hired a private counselor, and then scheduled a meeting with the guidance director to discuss contingency plans. Cleary, Carrie and her parents had cultural knowledge about how the college admissions pro­cess worked and about how schools worked—­you needed to demand better ser­vices when needed. Malcolm worked as best as he could with his counselor, though his misconceptions about colleges, which his counselor never seemed to address, made t­ hings difficult. A recent study conducted by sociologists Josipa Roksa and Denise Deutschlander found that ­family cultural and social capital played an impor­tant role in contributing to college undermatching.2 Specifically, students whose families had less cultural and social capital w ­ ere more likely to attend colleges that ­were less selective than they ­were academically qualified for. Social capital resources affected student attitudes. When students felt that college cost was a very impor­tant f­ actor to consider, they w ­ ere 32 ­percent more likely to undermatch. Cultural capital resources affected be­hav­iors, such as the number of applications submitted. The authors found that applying to an additional school decreased the odds of undermatching for students by about 60 ­percent. In many ways, Malcolm and Carrie’s stories bring ­these statistics to life. Both Carrie and Malcolm ended up g­ oing to colleges that they felt w ­ ere “safeties,” as opposed to their “dream schools.” Malcolm had a number of ­people working to lower his expectations over time—­his ­father, then his counselor, then the universities when his financial aid did not come through. Over time, cost emerged as one of the most impor­tant ­factors for him and his f­ amily. Cost also influenced how many schools Malcolm applied to. Looking back, he wished he had included more affordable colleges, so that he could have had more options. In contrast, finances ­were never a worry for Carrie and her high expectations ­were never countered. They w ­ ere encouraged by her parents and counselors, so

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 121

much so that she wished she had had someone encourage her to apply to more safeties. While this meant that Carrie faced a sharper disappointment when the rejections came in, it also meant that even though her choices ­were limited, they ­were all highly competitive colleges. She applied to more colleges, and more selective colleges, than Malcolm. Dealing with disappointment and having to lower expectations was something that a number of students had to contend with. Anna was certain during her ju­nior year and then her se­nior year that she wanted to attend Penn State. She visited and fell in love with the campus. When I interviewed her in the spring of her se­nior year, however, she told me she was ­going to attend State due to finances. It seems that her parents w ­ ere not aware of how much the tuition costs differed for in-­state versus out-­of-­state colleges, or w ­ ere not up front enough with Anna about financial issues. When I asked Anna in the fall of her se­nior year about finances, she mentioned that that was a consideration, but at that time her parents ­were encouraging her to look at many dif­fer­ent schools. Her mom was “obsessed” with the University of Delaware, whereas “My dad is just kind of like, go wherever you think is the best for you.” When I talked with her about her decision in our next interview, however, she said: At first, they ­were ­really, like, “What­ever, ­we’ll make it work.” But then they ­were kind of like—­like it was just, like, too much for it and I ­didn’t feel like having to deal with debt. They w ­ ere like, “Yeah, you can go ­there, but ­you’re ­going to have a lot of debt.” And they w ­ ere like, “Or you can go to State and we can pay for every­thing. And then you can go to, like, get your master’s and you can pay for that.” So I was, like, “I’d rather do that than have all that debt and then go on again [for] my master’s.”

Anna was still in a fortunate position in that her parents w ­ ere able to pay for her in-­state tuition (she applied for financial aid, but only received a small loan), and that she was ­going to be able to avoid massive debt, unlike many students. However, Anna was not truly aware of the financial situation her parents w ­ ere in, as she applied to six schools, all out-­of-­state public schools or private universities except for State. She got into five of the six, but none of them ­were affordable options, aside from State.

Navigating Self Doubt: Smith’s Experience Carrie and Malcolm both envisioned themselves attending more selective schools than where they ended up. They aimed high and w ­ ere disappointed when admissions and financial aid decisions left them with few choices. However, not all students ­were disappointed. Particularly if they ­were tracked t­ oward applying to highly selective colleges early on, their options ­were likely to be

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good. Even Carrie, who had few choices, was choosing among more selective institutions than Malcolm, although he got into almost e­ very school to which he applied. Smith was one of the lucky ones who got into a number of colleges, including an Ivy League university. I met Smith his ju­nior year at Park City High School. Smith dressed neatly in collared shirts, wore wire-­framed glasses, and frequently used his hands to make his points. He was a high achiever, took many AP classes, and was involved in a number of clubs at school. Both his parents are college educated. Smith is Black, though he did not want that to be known to “anyone who was g­ oing to listen to this [recording].” However, ­after I interviewed him when he was in college, he gave me permission to reveal his race. Smith prided himself on “not meeting any of the ste­reo­types of my race.” He frequently mentioned that he was more comfortable with Asians and Whites. He was very against applying to State b­ ecause, “I could do better and I have taken just tests to prove that I am better around p­ eople who are an opposite race than me, so I prefer ­going to a college where I would have . . . ​I mean, other than State, it’s basically ­every other college is . . . ​dominated by the race that I’m not.” Smith had a lot of anxiety surrounding the college application pro­cess. He felt a lot of pressure to get into the best school he could. “My parents are putting pressure on me b­ ecause they w ­ ere very good to me, I just want to reward all that they have given me. It feels like now is the time to reward, like, at the end of high school and ­going to college is when you find—is the first step to kind of rewarding your parents for all t­ hey’ve given you, so I d­ on’t want to fail them.” He said college was “the only ­thing they [his parents] talk to me about.” Smith’s parents ­were highly involved in the pro­cess. ­A fter the After-­School Club Fair at Park City High School, his parents “told me to leave some of my clubs b­ ecause they ­didn’t look good enough [for college] which upset me.” His parents went through his college mail and took out only ­those colleges they thought he should be interested in. Smith received a lot of advice from his ­father about strategizing for college. “My dad told me I needed to get all As during my se­nior year to look good for colleges if I wanted transfer, so he talked me into switching out of Euro, which I was told is hard, to World, which I was told is easy, and it is easier.” His ­father was already anticipating Smith not getting into a highly selective college and was strategizing how to transfer ­later on once in college. “My dad’s logic is . . . ​and I d­ on’t know why he is already thinking this, but he thinks that I should try . . . ​he thinks my se­nior year needs to look perfect so that if I want to transfer . . . ​so what­ever college I do go to, if I wanted to transfer, they would look at my se­nior year and see that even ­after getting to college, I kept on trying.” Not surprisingly, Smith never felt like he was good enough and berated himself for it. For example, despite attending SAT preparation classes for two

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and a half hours each week, he said: “SAT practice—­I constantly feel like I’m not ­doing enough. I have a 700-­page SAT book, I’m on, like, page—­I actually ­don’t know. I’ve read up to page, like, 100 and I’m just jumping around the book at this point. . . . ​I’m certain I know every­thing about the SAT.” Smith was very concerned that although he knew about the test from his studying, he still did not know enough of the content to do well, and he worried about how this would affect his college admissions chances. “I’m pretty sure . . . ​I could prob­ably score perfectly on a test about parts of the SAT. However, can I score the high averages needed that it’ll make me look good? ­Because I’m pretty sure my grade point average . . . ​I can name easily maybe five, ten kids in the school who I’m certain have a much higher GPA than me or are much smarter than I am.” When applying to colleges, name recognition was very impor­tant to Smith. He was looking for colleges with “names you can be proud to say.” He spent the summer between his ju­nior and se­nior years at an Ivy League university where he took psy­chol­ogy classes, which was what he thought he wanted to major in. He loved the school, but hated psy­chol­ogy, so he switched his intended major to sociology. He applied Early Decision to that Ivy League school, but was deferred, then rejected. He applied to another Ivy League university (his ­mother’s alma mater) and eleven other colleges. He got into four of t­ hose, was wait-­listed at three, and rejected from the o­ thers. Smith chose to go to his ­mother’s alma mater, essentially b­ ecause it “was the only Ivy I got admitted to.” He said the only “real debate” was between the Ivy and another college that was “essentially giving me a f­ ree ­ride.” However, “at the end of the day I could not beat the Ivy League appeal.” Smith still had a hard time believing he got in. “I applied b­ ecause my mom went ­there and I did not think for a second I would get in. . . . ​It sounds like I’m bragging or I’m, like, obsessed or I’m crazy, but I did not, I swear to you, I did not put as much work into my application to [the] Ivy League university, like ­there are supplements, my parents looked them over but I kind of half-­assed them.” Though he had a hard time accepting that it was true, Smith was very excited. “So, when I got in ­there, it’s been a dream ever since. I went to their preview days. I got to sit on classes. P ­ eople have been giving me congratulations who I ­don’t even know or I barely know. I’ve gotten hugs from teachers, it’s been amazing. But I honestly, I even met the students ­there, it’s just, I’ve tried to isolate how I possibly could have gotten in ­there.” Smith rationalized that he was accepted to the Ivy League university “­because I started a new club, they admitted me ­because I’m the son of an alumni who has given a small bit to the school.” However, part of Smith’s incredulousness regarding his ac­cep­tance was related to how he felt o­ thers perceived it—as the result of affirmative action. “I’ve been trying to think [why I got accepted], ­because I know that the common thought is that I only got in b­ ecause I’m Black,

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b­ ecause the long dead but still secret we all think it happens is affirmative action and that makes me feel horrible.” Smith said: “I ­don’t want to believe that [affirmative action] helped me get into a prestigious institution, but I know that’s what every­one who ­doesn’t want to think about it is ­going to think and that leaves me feeling very bad and not wanting to talk about it. That one day I wore my jersey or my college sweater around I felt so self-­ conscious; I’ve not wanted to since.” Smith was unable to enjoy his accomplishment, as he could not get it out of his head that ­others did not think he had earned it. He was convinced that other high-­achieving students, who had not gotten into this school, felt as though “ ‘ he only got in b­ ecause he’s Black, this bastard and now he thinks he’s so ­great. And if he ­wasn’t Black, I would have taken the spot from him.’ That’s what I feel like ­they’re thinking, even if they d­ on’t, even if that’s not even what t­ hey’re thinking, I c­ an’t help but feel that way.” Smith had some reason to think that this is what ­others ­were saying about him. A school counselor told him that if he ­were not a minority, he “­wouldn’t have a snowball chance in hell” at getting into his first-­choice Ivy League University. Although Smith said he w ­ asn’t upset about the comment, it did affect him. “I was upset, but I d­ idn’t say anything.” This was not the first time a counselor had dampened his expectations. Smith’s counselor, Ms. Radford, “was a nice lady, she was very kind,” but “my m ­ other had so much resentment to her ­because she thought [Ms. Radford] was trying to get the kids to aim low. . . . ​I only remember Hampshire as the only school she recommended, but they ­were all colleges that are not ­house­hold names.” Smith said his m ­ other had “a humongous resentment to just the public school system in general” b­ ecause she felt they ­were “trying to get students to apply to schools that they w ­ ere likely to get into, not schools that they had to aim higher, shoot for the stars to get into.” Smith’s experience did ­little to ease his ­mother’s worries, as “no one [in the guidance department] told me to apply to [an] Ivy League school.” Once Smith got to the Ivy League university, he realized that not every­one was brilliant, and that other p­ eople also wondered how they had gotten in. “I have met more students who say, ‘I have no clue how I got in ­here, I am terrified, I’m not good.’ ” Although he also had met students who say, “ ‘I’m perfect, I’m number one, I’m ­going to be, like, the next president,’ ” t­ here ­were also p­ eople “who seem to be actually dumb.” He met other p­ eople who “had a foot in the door” during admissions and fell into special categories such as legacies and athletes. Thankfully, the worry about race affecting his admission decision had not followed him. “I h ­ aven’t thought about that, I would say I h ­ aven’t thought about that since the last time we talked, but it’s been out of my mind.” Smith took a year off of college his sophomore year at his parents’ behest due to what they deemed to be “low grades” such as Bs and Cs. He interned in

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Metro for a year and then returned to college, was d­ oing well, and was set to gradu­ate the next year. Smith’s experiences during the college application and choice pro­cess ­were unique, and most likely influenced by the high levels of anxiety he displayed surrounding his own abilities and chances of admission. He, like many other more advantaged students, was very focused on “name recognition” and ­going to the most competitive school he could get into. Once he was accepted at the Ivy League university, t­ here was l­ ittle decision to be made. However, unlike many other students at Park City and Evanstown high schools who w ­ ere Ivy League bound, once admissions decisions rolled in, Smith was plagued with feeling that he did not r­ eally deserve his ac­cep­tance, and most impor­tant, that ­others ­were ­going to question his abilities. In the end, the “prize” that he had worked so hard for was less sweet than he had hoped. The racial context of Park City High School permeated Smith’s perspective, leading him to continue to doubt himself. Counselors and students also articulated Smith’s worst nightmare—­that he was not r­ eally worthy. Carrie, in her first interview, discussed how unfair preferential admissions ­were. “It kind of bothers me, where certain students get accepted for athletic reasons to schools . . . ​and it bothers me that gender, race, and ­things come into play. ­Because I d­ on’t r­ eally think you should be judged based on the parents you ­were born to, like ­unless it’s affected your life, or being a minority or something has greatly affected your life.” Carrie’s place of privilege contributed to her being upset that some ­people received what she perceived as preferential treatment during the admissions pro­cess. Her stance denied the power of race in students’ lives and was indicative of both “new racism,” which includes claims of reverse racism, and “color-­blind racism,” which denies the impact of race in everyday experiences.3 Her views w ­ ere not aty­pi­cal among Whites at both Evanstown and Park City high schools and contributed to and w ­ ere confirmed by the racial context at both schools.4

Choice by Default: Matt and Dosh Although this chapter is about choice, t­ here w ­ ere some students who never ­really made a college choice, or at least not one that they felt they actively participated in. As I noted in chapter 2, both Park City High School and Evanstown High School had such a pervasive college culture that almost all students saw themselves attending college a­ fter high school—it was r­ eally just a ­matter of where. For some students, however, their aspirations had been lowered early on, and they “chose” the default option at their high schools—­ community college. Despite the stigma and general aversion to community college that permeated the schools, some students still did attend for a number of reasons: they did not feel ready for a four-­year college, ­were unsure what they

126  •  Divergent Paths to College

wanted to study, could not afford a four-­year school, or lacked the grades and test scores to be competitive at most four-­year colleges. Th ­ ese students did not even engage in the college application pro­cess. However, their stories and experiences are just as critical as Malcolm’s, Carrie’s, or Smith’s to understanding the postsecondary transition at Evanstown High School and Park City High School. They, too, ­were on a postsecondary pathway that was defined and reinforced by the schools. Like t­ hose who ended up at less selective four-­ year colleges, they lacked access to social capital and had ­little understanding of the pro­cess. I met Dosh in February of his se­nior year. He was ner­vous at first during our interview and kept r­ unning his hands through his shoulder-­length hair. He identified as a “skater” and wore the uniform of baggy jeans, Vans sneakers, and a T-­shirt. Dosh is of Eastern Eu­ro­pean descent and was a­ dopted as an infant by a f­ amily in Evanstown. His parents did not attend college and he has an older sibling who attended the local community college, CCC. Dosh is a moderate achiever with a GPA around 3.0 and a 1245 on the SATs. When I talked to Dosh, he seemed to have accepted that he was attending CCC. He had some other ideas ju­nior year, but ­those ­were quickly dashed by just one meeting with his counselor. “At that time, I wanted to go out of Evanstown, out of Northeastern State.5 And then I heard State is a r­ eally good university to get into and it was kind of close. I was like alright, well I guess I could make something work.” At his ju­nior conference, Dosh said he was not set on CCC initially. “No, I actually had other plans. I felt confident ­going to another university and I ­don’t know, I wanted to talk to her [Ms. Coriander, his school counselor] about it and I d­ on’t know, I just felt like she kind of brought me down, made it seem like I ­wouldn’t be able to get in one. The way I saw it, I feel like I could have definitely gotten in, but I ­don’t know.” To Dosh, “just the way she made it sound, it sounds like you’ll never get. . . . ​So it was more discouraging, but I ­don’t know, when I’m thinking about it now, maybe it’s a good decision, I’m not sure exactly.” Dosh explained what it was like to have his counselor suggest that he was not ready for a four-­year university. “Well, it kind of did bring me down, just hearing it ­because you kind of go to the counselor for all your prob­lems, so hearing that you might not be able to get in . . . ​I guess it’s like facing real­ity, it’s kind of hard but it’s ­going to happen.” As I discussed in chapter 4, Dosh expected his counselor to engage in more of a cheerleading role by encouraging his dreams. When she instead took on the role of the more pragmatic realist, it dashed his hopes, and his trust. ­A fter that meeting, Dosh did not r­ eally go back to his counselor. He accepted that he would just attend CCC. “I think that maybe I ­didn’t use my time wisely enough maybe. I guess since I’m not g­ oing to another college out of state, I’m g­ oing to Cedar County College, I guess I d­ idn’t r­ eally have to go up

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 127

to her and talk to her that much or ask her what I should be ­doing next.” He never asked any further questions about the college application pro­cess and accepted his default choice. The rest of his network confirmed that CCC was a better choice for him. “I guess I ­didn’t know what I was about to get myself into, so I guess I need more time to ­really think about it and every­one’s [parents and teachers] telling me, especially when you d­ on’t know what to major in, it’s good to take more time in Cedar County College than go and waste money at a university or something.” Matt’s story is a l­ ittle dif­fer­ent from Dosh’s, though it ends with the same destination. Matt is a Black young man whose ­father is college educated. He has an older ­sister, but he was unsure w ­ hether she attended college, and two younger siblings. He is a moderate achiever with a 2.7 GPA. Matt also defined himself as a “skater,” and wore a similar uniform as Dosh. I interviewed Matt three times over the course of his ju­nior and se­nior years, and each was among my shortest interviews. The theme of each was also remarkably consistent: Matt was g­ oing to Cedar County College. His ju­nior year, his m ­ other and Mr. Bourdain, his counselor, spoke over the phone. He was not sure exactly what they talked about, but one ­thing was clear a­ fter that conversation: “I’m pretty sure I’m ­going to Cedar County College.” When I asked Matt how he deci­ded on Cedar County, he just referenced that conversation, “I think my mom and my guidance counselor talked to me about this, so I think that’s pretty much the plan for now.” Over the rest of his ju­nior and his se­nior years, Matt never researched another school or anything about the college application pro­cess. In the fall of his se­nior year, he mentioned possibly taking the January SATs, but did not understand how they ­were graded and hoped for an “average” score. He never ended up taking them. Both ju­nior and se­nior year, he attended the HBCU fair that Evanstown High School took students to. He visited a few college ­tables. “I ­don’t know. I picked up some stuff, but I ­wasn’t ­really interested. ­Because, I thought, well not thought, but b­ ecause in my mind I was prob­ably gonna go with Cedar County College.” He did not apply to any of ­those schools b­ ecause “my parents say I’ll be ­going to Cedar County College.” When I asked him how the college decision-­making pro­cess went for him at the end of his se­nior year, he said, “I’d say it went pretty easy b­ ecause it’s just Cedar County College, it’s not like I applied to four-­year colleges ­because to, like, some of my friends, it’s like a strug­gle for them, so for me that was easy, like I d­ idn’t r­ eally have to go through much to do it.” Despite interviewing him three times over a year and a half, I never was able to get much out of Matt. We w ­ ere not able to develop enough rapport or trust for him to open up and explain more about his thought pro­cess, or perhaps he just had not thought about his ­future and maybe did not want to. “I wanna

128  •  Divergent Paths to College

go to college, but I d­ on’t know. I feel like I’m growing up too fast. So I’m just trying to take it on right now. . . . ​I guess it’s just weird to talk about college and stuff like that ’cause it’s something that I’m not used to. Eventually, I’m gonna have to grow up and be on my own. It’s weird.” During his se­nior year, Matt was still ambivalent about college. “I d­ on’t r­ eally have some type of emotion for it. I’ll be ready, I guess. I’m not ner­vous. I’m not excited. I ­don’t know what to feel yet b­ ecause it’s Cedar County College, so I d­ on’t know.” Matt felt like by attending CCC he was not r­ eally attending “official” college. If he was ­going to be attending State, “That is a four-­year school. And it seems kind of more impor­tant than Cedar County College . . . ​so, like, you c­ an’t mess up. And I feel like at Cedar County College, it is more laid back, but you still have to study and whatnot.” To Matt, ­there was much less pressure with attending CCC. “I ­don’t know. It just ­doesn’t seem like a big deal [to mess up at CCC], but it is. But it d­ oesn’t seem like it, I guess.” Matt did not know what he wanted to study and never developed any c­ areer aspirations during the time that I talked with him. Considering this, and the fact that Matt did not seem confident in his ability to h ­ andle college-­level work, perhaps community college was the right place for him, if the choice was between a two-­or four-­year college. Matt could have benefited from more college and c­ areer guidance from his counselor, however. He had no ideas for f­ uture majors or c­ areer plans. He never visited CCC and although he knew p­ eople who went ­there, he had no idea what to expect when he set foot on the campus. Overall, Matt had very l­ ittle interaction with his counselor. “[Mr. Bourdain’s] all right. I d­ on’t r­ eally know him that well. I d­ on’t see him that much.” Mr. Bourdain had been his counselor for four years, but Matt said he only saw him twice a year and had never made an appointment to go see him.

Networks and Decisions: Allora’s Connections Overall, students ­were influenced by many ­factors. Their application decisions, and then college admission decisions, determined the schools they had to choose from. Variables such as finances, selectivity, location, academic programs, and college marketing came into play, both during application and enrollment decisions. The opinions of significant ­others in students’ lives also played a role. Malcolm resisted some of his parents’ pressure to attend a community college, but was influenced by their financial concerns, as was Anna. Carrie’s and Smith’s concerns about academic reputation and selectivity levels mirrored ­those of their parents and their peers. Both wanted to make sure they went to schools that “­people had heard of.” Matt and Dosh relied on their parents’ and counselors’ assessments. Networks ­were crucial in influencing how students navigated the earlier aspects of the college application pro­cess, but also in how they made their final college choices.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 129

Allora attended Evanstown High School and was very involved in marching band, despite being one of only a handful of minority students who participated. Allora’s m ­ other had passed away, and she lived with her grand­mother, though she was still in touch with her ­father and saw him occasionally. Neither her grand­mother nor her parents had graduated from college. However, Allora was determined to do so. Although Allora did not have access to cultural knowledge about the college admissions pro­cess via her familial network, she was able to develop significant relationships with ­others that helped her get more college information. She took both physics and AP Psy­chol­ogy her se­nior year, though she was not particularly excited about ­either of them, ­because her counselor said it would be good for college. “Well, actually, I wanted to take regular psy­chol­ogy, but then my guidance counselor, was like, ‘Oh, why d­ on’t you take AP?’ and I was like, ‘I d­ on’t want to.’ And then she was like, ‘Are you scared?’ and I was like, ‘No.’ And then she was like, ‘Okay then.’ That’s how it happened.” Although Allora did not want to take the course at first ­because of the anticipated amount of work and the worry that she would not be able to do it, ­things had worked out well. “I’ve done all the work. I got an A in the first marking period.” ­Because ­there was no one in her ­family that Allora could turn to for assistance in the college application pro­cess, Allora felt that her counselor, Ms. Heartstone, was r­ eally the only person who helped her. She suggested some new schools to Allora that “opened her eyes” to attending college out of state. While Allora took some of her counselor’s advice, such as taking AP Psy­chol­ogy, she did not always. She did not sign up for the ACT a­ fter a low SAT score, and deci­ded she was done with long, standardized tests. Overall, she felt that Ms. Heartstone was helpful, especially compared to the stories she had heard from friends about other counselors. “Other ­people have other counselors, and they say that they are not helpful . . . ​like they sign up for a meeting, and she [another counselor] would be on the phone, like, ‘oh just a second,’ and ­they’re staying ­there the ­whole block for no reason. Yeah, stuff like that.” Allora sought Ms. Heartstone out many times to get information and advice. Allora initiated a meeting with her counselor in the fall of her ju­nior year, prior to ju­nior year conferences in the spring, to ask about the college application pro­cess. “I had no idea about, like, nonbinding and binding stuff, like stuff like that. I was confused about [it], and that’s about it.” Allora said t­ here was a lot of information in the guidance office, but it was up to students to sign up for it, including meetings with counselors. “If you d­ on’t take initiative to jump at the ­things that ­they’re offering you, then that’s your fault.” During her college search, Allora consulted a number of other ­people, and then together weighed their opinions. She had a “mentor” at her church who suggested an HBCU, and at first she was not very interested. However, then

130  •  Divergent Paths to College

she attended the HBCU fair that Evanstown High School took students to each year and talked with a representative t­ here who told her about the marching band. She also talked to some of her friends who had attended. “­A fter my friend at church, yeah, told me about [the school], and I was like, ‘I ­don’t want to go ­there,’ [but] now with the other stuff, yeah it influenced me, yeah.” Which schools she applied to was influenced partly by the cost of application fees. Though she qualified for ­free lunch, she did not apply ­because she did not want to eat the school lunch. Unfortunately, this meant she did not have the documentation needed for application fee waivers. Allora did not apply to State due to application fees. “That would, like, turn my decision away, like, ‘Okay, now I’m not gonna apply t­ here.’ ” Of the eight schools she applied to, all sent her ­free applications except two. Her grand­mother paid one application fee and she paid the other. Allora ended up getting into seven of the eight schools. She visited three, two in-­state and the HBCU her mentor had suggested. She chose the HBCU b­ ecause, “First, it’s, like, r­ eally—­it’s, like, cheaper and I like the campus and where it’s located. I feel like I could get, like, the best experience ­there.” Although she had gotten financial aid at all the colleges, Allora felt that the overall lower cost of the HBCU made it a better deal. She also thought the location was good for her. She did not want to be in a city and be “distracted,” and the in-­state schools ­were a bit too close to home. The HBCU was in another state, but not too far away. At first, Allora was not interested in ­going to an HBCU at all, but a­ fter talking with her mentor, friends, and the college admissions representative at the school, she thought, “I want to play in the marching band and I think it’s a good experience.” The marching band director had consistently reached out to her as well, making her more interested in the school. Talking with ­others over time had dissuaded her from her initial first-­choice school, “­People like telling me how, like, the school was, like, so secluded and it ­wasn’t that good when I visited it.” Allora was not plugged into the most information-­rich networks at Evanstown High School. She was a moderate-­achieving student and had never taken an AP or honors course before her se­nior year, and neither had her friends. She actually felt most of her close friends w ­ ere not very helpful during the college pro­cess, as they just encouraged her to go to the schools they w ­ ere attending, such as in-­state colleges, or Cedar County College. Come the end of se­nior year, some of them w ­ ere “not so happy” with their college choices. Many of her friends strug­gled with “being late with applications and, yeah. I guess not knowing what to do.” Allora, however, had figured out what to do, at least more so than her friends. “I pretty much searched stuff. I asked my counselor, ­people at my church sometimes help me.” She reached out, as best she could, to ­those connections to which she did have access. Allora attended the HBCU and had enough financial aid that she did not have to worry about paying tuition each semester, though money was tight.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 131

When I followed up with her four years ­later, she was set to gradu­ate in May with a degree in marketing. She had participated in marching band all four years and joined a sorority. Her mentor had set her up with an internship in the fall with a com­pany that would allow her to rotate through vari­ous departments and get experience. She was hoping it would lead to a full-­time job.

Encouragement and Enrollment Malcolm, Carrie, Smith, Dosh, Matt, and Allora all had dif­fer­ent experiences during the college application pro­cess. They began the pro­cess with varying levels of cultural knowledge and had access to dif­f er­ent social networks. Social networks provide information, but also encouragement or discouragement at key points. Counselors’ expectations w ­ ere very impor­tant, even if students themselves did not want to admit it. Ms. Heartstone’s encouragement to take the AP class convinced Allora to do so. Ms. Coriander’s discouragement of a four-­year college convinced Dosh to let go of that dream. Mr. Bourdain’s conversation with his ­mother was all Matt needed to s­ ettle on CCC. Less advantaged students, especially ­those who had few other adults in their lives with college experience, w ­ ere particularly influenced by counselors.6 Students like Carrie and Smith, who w ­ ere very knowledgeable about the college pro­cess and had parents who ­were college educated, ­were less likely to internalize discouragement from their counselors or follow their advice if ­others in their networks gave them conflicting opinions. Smith said that Ms. Radford suggested schools that w ­ ere less selective than he was aiming for and never suggested an Ivy League school. Although she may have been trying to expose Smith to some colleges that ­were not “house­hold names,” his m ­ other interpreted this as trying to prevent Smith from “shooting for the stars.” Smith did not follow his counselor’s advice and did not apply to any of the schools she suggested. ­A fter college decisions rolled in in April, Carrie lamented that her counselors had never suggested she apply to more schools. “And none of them—­not my guidance counselor, not my college counselor—­ none of them ­really said to me, ‘You know what? You should prob­ably add some more city schools or you should consider applying to more schools in general at least.’ None of them said anything, or said I was ­doing anything wrong.” When her counselor suggested a few schools to apply to back in the fall, however, she dismissed t­ hese suggestions. I think that when he gave me suggestions for college, they w ­ eren’t exactly perfect b­ ecause I think that—­I ­don’t know. I think that I did kind of cover the colleges that fit my criteria. And the ones that he did w ­ eren’t so much, like ­there ­were some schools that he suggested that just w ­ ere, like, ­either in the ­middle of nowhere or like a lesser academic—­like not as tough academically or challenging.

132  •  Divergent Paths to College

Similar to Carrie, Malcolm also had changing views of his counselor. When I interviewed him at the end of se­nior year, he said, “[Ms. Heartstone] helped with looking for colleges, looking into, okay which best fit my needs? Academically, and I love this, which ones fit me socially and more or less stuff like that.” However, he was less positive about the counseling department as a ­whole. “I think that the counseling department is too centered on ­doing what’s best for their department [versus] what’s best for the students.” Four years ­later, Malcolm was even more disappointed in his counseling experiences. “I d­ idn’t feel like [Ms. Heartstone] had my best interest in terms . . . ​ well, she did . . . ​like she intended to help me get into a college, but not the one where I thought I deserved it.” In many ways, Malcolm’s concerns echoed ­those of Smith’s ­mother—­that counselors directed students to apply to colleges where they knew students would be accepted, at the expense of encouraging high expectations and applications at “reach” schools. It is not easy for counselors to negotiate the line between encouraging and bringing students down to earth. However, it is impor­tant for counselors to know how critical their role is for students’ ­futures. Despite many students dismissing the importance of their counselor in the college pro­cess, ­these stories indicate that counselors’ beliefs did weigh on students, e­ ither discouraging or encouraging their educational trajectories. This does not mean that counselors should only focus on encouragement and avoid the hard conversations. Research on the “college-­for-­all” norm and its consequences has found that many counselors avoid discussions about students’ chances for success in postsecondary education, instead believing they should provide opportunities. This can harm students in the end when they enroll in college and find out that they are not academically qualified, wasting time and money.7 At Evanstown and Park City high schools, counselors did try to give students realistic advice. Many told me that they relied on “the hard numbers” of ac­cep­tance rates and SAT score ranges when talking with students about their admissions chances. As Ms. Radford said, “They take it a l­ittle bit better ­because it’s not as personal, it’s not—­well, they d­ on’t want to accept you b­ ecause of the person you are, it’s just the numbers, and it’s a ­little more clear that way.” Unfortunately, many students did still take it personally, particularly t­hose who had the least amount of support at home. For t­ hese students, it was very difficult for them to reconcile the “college-­for-­all” culture at their schools with what they ­were being told by their counselors.8 Although the focus of this book has been on the school and how that institution organizes opportunities for college information for students, parents are a critical force in the college application pro­cess as w ­ hole. Parental encouragement and school involvement are impor­tant f­ actors that influence students’ college attendance.9 Long before the college pro­cess begins, parents set their ­children up for better college opportunities through their housing and school

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions • 133

choices.10 Middle-­class parents provide much of students’ cultural knowledge about college. They teach their ­children cultural knowledge about how to negotiate middle-­class institutions and how to interact with teachers, counselors, and college admissions officers from a young age through their parenting styles, setting students up for ease in seeking out information on their own.11 Schools many times expect this kind of involvement in the college pro­cess, putting ­those students whose parents lack college experience at a disadvantage.12 According to students in my study, parental involvement varied quite a bit. Some, like Theo at Park City High School, spent most of their interviews discussing where “we” ­were applying. ­Others, like Felicity at Evanstown High School, ­were getting emotional support from their parents but ­were ­handling the pro­cess on their own. When it comes time to make college decisions, parental preferences and constraints, particularly monetarily, shape the choices students’ made.13 Anna’s parents initially did not want to temper her college dreams with financial concerns, though this did end up being the determining ­factor for her. Smith’s parents sent mixed messages, pushing him to apply to Ivy League colleges, while si­mul­ta­neously developing transfer backup plans. Their emphasis on selectivity, above all other criteria, meant Smith had l­ ittle choice once he got into an Ivy League college. Although the students I discussed in this chapter had very dif­fer­ent routes out of high school, all w ­ ere intending to enroll in e­ ither a two-­or four-­year college at the end of se­nior year. For each, their final college decisions and destinations ­were structured earlier on in the college pro­cess, when they made decisions about where to apply. The high school’s role in brokering information, though it did not directly affect decisions, had residual effects in the options available to students once admissions decisions came in.

7

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess, College Destinations, and Beyond

Considering that close to 95  ­percent of students that attended Park City and Evanstown high schools in the years that I conducted my study went on to a two-­or four-­year college, it is not surprising then that ten out of the eleven students I followed up with ­after they graduated high school attended college. Of ­those ten, nine attended four-­year college immediately ­a fter high school. Of ­those nine, seven graduated (or ­were planning on graduating) four years a­ fter their high school graduation.1 See t­ able 2 for demographic data on the long-­term follow-up sample. At the end of each interview, I asked students, “What advice would you give to high school students ­today that you wish you had known about during the college application pro­cess?” With four-­years of college experience now ­behind her, Mariah said: “Find a mentor. Find somebody that you know that has been into school or at least wanting to go to school, or wanted to be your major, is in your major, something that can tie you to that culture b­ ecause ­you’ve never been in it.” Malcom advised, “Do your research early, talk to your peers, your teachers, ­family, friends, anyone who has experience.” Both Mariah and Malcolm w ­ ere among the first in their families to go on to higher education a­ fter high school,2 and both focused on encouraging students to develop more extensive social networks and more social capital. They advised 134

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 135

­Table 2

Long-­term follow-up student demographics High school achievement level

Allora Hannah Malcolm Mariah Carrie Eve Smith Sally Steven Theo William

Moderate Moderate High Moderate High Moderate High High Moderate High Moderate

Race

Black White Black Black White Black Black Black Black White White

Parent has a college education

High school attended

No Yes No Yes Yes Yes Yes No Yes Yes Yes

Evanstown Evanstown Evanstown Evanstown Park City Park City Park City Park City Park City Park City Park City

students to make connections with ­those who had experience and could be cultural guides during the college application pro­cess. Students who benefited the most from their social connections did not mention this. Hannah, who used her f­amily’s connections to right her mistaken application to the wrong State University campus said: “Get it done early. Take it seriously . . . ​I think maybe just t­hose two. . . .” Theo had just graduated from a highly selective state university.3 His parents worked with him extensively on his applications, to the point where he consistently used the pronoun “we” when discussing where he was applying four years ago. He said: I r­ eally do think that no m ­ atter where you go to [college], if you work hard enough, you can get to a pretty good point like where you want to be. . . . ​The difference from, like, ten to fifteen [in the rankings], ­isn’t big enough to prevent you from ­doing anything. Like maybe you’ll have dif­fer­ent opportunities, but I wish that, like, ­people actually believe that you can get to a place where you want no ­matter where you go to school.

Sally, who was attending an Ivy League university and who also got extensive help from her parents said: “You know even if p­ eople would ask me now, like parents for their c­ hildren, I just tell them, like, push them as much as you can, work as hard as you can and, like, go to a r­ eally, r­ eally good school b­ ecause it’s so rewarding and kinda that. . . . ​It seems, like, intuitive to me, like, ‘Oh I just have to work ­really hard so you could r­ eally go to a good college.’ ” ­These students focused on working hard and getting applications done. What’s missing from their advice, but the focus of Malcolm’s and Mariah’s, is

136  •  Divergent Paths to College

gaining access to college information, or the key cultural knowledge of college that I have focused on throughout this book. For many students like Hannah and Theo, who came from privilege, knowing how the application pro­cess worked was ingrained in them from an early age. It was so obvious that they would focus on getting into the most selective schools pos­si­ble that Theo felt he needed to advise students to not worry themselves too greatly about getting into the top ten. Sally, whose ­family was well off though her parents did not attend college, begins to hint a l­ ittle at the fact that cultural knowledge about college is such an ingrained part of how middle-­class students operate, it seems intuitive. In contrast, Malcolm and Mariah realized that ­there was a lot of information that they ­were not aware of, many times not ­until it was too late in the college application pro­cess. They also realized that the way to get that information was through social connections with ­those with college experience: mentors, teachers, peers, and f­ amily. The fact that more privileged students did not even realize that they ­were privy to information and social connections that ­others w ­ ere not was part of the work of their class habitus and upbringing, but also the work of the orga­ nizational brokering that occurred at the high schools. The schools brokered connections in a way that built on the advantages some students brought to the application pro­cess and ignored or took advantage of the lack of cultural knowledge ­others had. Many students did not realize that they ­were gaining access to impor­tant college information from classes, counselors, and college events ­because it seemed like a given that they should. For ­others like Malcolm and Mariah, brokering worked less well, and they did not “naturally” encounter college information via peers in their classes, they did not know how to use their counselors to their own advantage, and they eagerly embraced the colleges the high schools did connect them with, not knowing that they ­were the least selective, and sometimes most expensive, options.

Orga­nizational Brokering and College Destinations Evanstown High School and Park City High School each sent the vast majority of their students on to college. The postsecondary destinations of the students in my larger sample closely mirror ­those of the schools’ populations as a ­whole: 71 ­percent of the students that I interviewed at the end of their se­nior year ­were planning on attending a four-­year college,4 and 21 ­percent planned on attending a two-­year college.5 Among the students that I interviewed, four attended a trade school and one planned to take some time off and start college the next year.6 At first glance, t­ hese are quite promising statistics regarding college access. Students varied in their college destinations, however. Although I do not have school-­level data regarding the selectivity levels of colleges attended, within

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 137

­Table 3

College destinations by race Most/Highly competitive

Black (n = 44) White (n = 30) Othera (n = 7)

11.4% (n = 5) 30% (n = 9) 42.9% (n = 3) =

=

=

=

=

=

Very/Competitive

Less/Noncompetitive

40.9% (n = 18) 56.7% (n = 17) 14.3% (n = 1)

47.7% (n = 21) 13.3% (n = 4) 42.9% (n = 3) =

=

=

a

This includes Asian students (1), Latinos (3), and t­ hose students who identified as multi/biracial in the survey I administered (3). Some students who described their racial identity as biracial in interviews identified as Black on the survey (although t­ here was a multi/biracial option). For example, Jules, whom I discussed in depth in chapter 3, identified as biracial in the interview, referred to himself as Black in the interview, and identified as Black on the survey. Cases such as Jules’s make clear the complexities of racial identity. From his interview, we see that Jules has a fluid identity in many ways, feels a part of and alienated from both Blacks and Whites at dif­fer­ent times, and yet is also secure in his own personal identity. Interviews allowed me to go into more depth than the survey data did. When aggregating students, however, I chose to refer to how they self-­identified on the survey.

­Table 4

College destinations by parental education level Most/Highly competitive

Parents have a college education (n = 53) Parents do not have a college education (n = 28)

=

26.4% (n = 14) =

10.7% (n = 3)

Very/Competitive =

=

45.3% (n = 24) 42.9% (n = 12)

Less/Noncompetitive

28.3% (n = 15)

=

=

46.4% (n = 13)

my own data ­there are differences in where students ended up. Overall, 21 ­percent of the students in my sample went to Most or Highly Competitive colleges, 44 ­percent went to Very Competitive or Competitive colleges, and 35 ­percent went to Less or Noncompetitive institutions (including trade schools).7 Students whose parents ­were college educated ­were more likely to attend Most or Highly Competitive colleges, as w ­ ere White students (see ­tables 3 and 4). My aim in this book is not to make causal arguments regarding t­ hese differentials, but to show how students may get on dif­f er­ent college pathways and what ­those look like. I argue that differential access to social capital influences students’ postsecondary paths by affecting their cultural knowledge about the college application pro­cess. The high schools brokered students’ access to social capital in three ways—­access to peers, to counselors, and to college admissions officers via college events. Tracking led to students from dif­fer­ent class and racial backgrounds being in dif­fer­ent classes and having less interaction. Lack of trust between first-­generation college students and racial/ethnic minority students and counselors meant that t­ hese students w ­ ere less likely to benefit

138  •  Divergent Paths to College

from counselor meetings. Students ­were also informed of dif­fer­ent types of college events at dif­f er­ent points in the application pro­cess. More selective colleges held representative visits earlier in the application cycle, while less selective schools attended the instant decision events held at the very end of the admission cycle, influencing the kinds of social connections and information available to students. The relationship between cultural knowledge and social capital was reciprocal. Cultural knowledge about how to interact with counselors, admissions officers, and ­others facilitated access to social connections, while key connections led students to gain more cultural knowledge. Students who displayed initiative and per­sis­tence when interacting with counselors w ­ ere more likely to get their questions answered. Th ­ ose who made connections with admissions officers ­were privy to key information about the application pro­cess. Orga­nizational brokering at the high schools continued to work to privilege ­those who already had high stores of cultural knowledge and social capital. In this book, I focus on the context of orga­nizational brokering within the high schools. The school culture at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School was heavi­ly focused on college. The “college-­for-­all” norm implies that every­one can and should go to college, two-­year or four-­year. While increasing aspirations are certainly positive, the norm has been criticized ­because the push for college access has come without a concurrent push for an increase in college preparation. Many high school gradu­ates are not prepared for, and not made aware of, the academic challenges of higher education.8 This has resulted in an overly ambitious generation of students who think they should go to college, but do not always know how ­doing so w ­ ill get them closer to their occupational goals.9 At Park City and Evanstown high schools, this was especially true—­all students wanted to go to college, though many had difficulty explaining to me why. This laser-­like focus on the end goal was particularly problematic for students with a lack of cultural knowledge. The emphasis on four-­year college encouraged students to apply and attend even when they lacked good information or ­were not sure if college was right for them. Students ­were desperate to avoid the stigma of community college or of not attending college at all. This contributed to them being more susceptible to college marketing, flattering ­free applications, and the instant decision events. The racial context of the two schools contributed to racial/ethnic minority students lacking access to social capital that could have increased their cultural knowledge about college. Tracking students into dif­fer­ent class levels clustered college information in higher level tracks. Black students felt uncomfortable in t­ hese classes and had to deal with identity issues that did not affect White students. This meant they had additional hurdles to getting good college information and making connections with more advantaged peers. Race,

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 139

and its intersection with class, also influenced students’ relationships with counselors. For the most part, counselors did not acknowledge how race influenced students’ school experiences. This may have contributed to students having difficulty forming trusting relationships with counselors, thus inhibiting their access to college information. By many mea­sures, t­ hese high schools would seem to be quite effective in assisting students with the college application pro­cess. However, although most students ended up getting in and w ­ ere planning on attending college at the end of their se­nior year, that does not mean that the college application pro­cess had gone smoothly. When college decisions rolled in, some students became aware of the holes in their knowledge when they compared their postsecondary destinations to ­those of ­others. Some students had to deal with disappointment when they did not get into their first-­choice institution, or did, but could not afford to attend. While the focus at both high schools was on getting students in somewhere, students realized (sometimes not ­until it was too late) that just getting in anywhere was not very helpful when you had few good choices.

Linking to Research and Theory Researchers in higher education question ­whether simply getting into college for low-­income and minority students ­will r­ eally improve social mobility or ­whether it just moves the goalpost. Theories such as maximally and effectively maintained in­equality argue that as more and more students attend higher education, middle-­and upper m ­ iddle class families work to preserve their privilege by seeking more and/or better education, and middle-­class institutions respond by valuing ­these types of credentials more.10 This may mean a shift ­toward more professions requiring master’s or doctorate degrees, or credentials from more selective institutions being more valued. It becomes more impor­tant not just that students go on to postsecondary education, but which institution they attend. The type of institution attended has a number of influences on students. The name and reputation of a school may have effects on ­labor market outcomes.11 More selective schools tend to have bigger endowments, more resources, and offer more financial aid, which may be particularly impor­tant for more disadvantaged students, who tend to benefit the most from attending such colleges.12 Yet the inequalities in who attends t­ hese types of institutions are stark. In the class of 2004, 5 ­percent of students whose parents had not graduated from high school attended a highly selective college, while 36 ­percent of students whose parents obtained a terminal degree attended such an institution. About 6 ­percent of Black students attended a highly selective college, whereas the same was true for 19 ­percent of Whites.13

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­These statistics have led to more research on “academic undermatch,” meaning when students’ academic credentials would allow them access to a more selective college than that which they attend. According to recent research, lower-­SES students undermatch about 50 ­percent of the time, compared with higher-­SES students, who undermatch about 34  ­percent of the time.14 Students’ application be­hav­iors have an effect on undermatching.15 Students who prefer low-­cost colleges and ­those close to home are more likely to undermatch, while visiting with a school counselor, completing the FAFSA, and completing more applications decreases the likelihood of undermatching.16 This suggests that we need to understand more about how students from dif­fer­ent backgrounds are navigating the college application pro­cess and how they are making application decisions, as opposed to college choices. We know that less advantaged students engage in a dif­fer­ent type of application pro­cess compared with more advantaged students,17 but what accounts for this? What exactly does this look like? By mapping this pro­cess more accurately, we may be able to identify points of intervention to assist such students. Research on undermatching has also found that high schools structure students’ opportunities for higher education in impor­tant ways.18 Counselors define the field of college possibilities many times based on their experiences of where students typically apply and are successful.19 Some schools have limited resources and may provide only minimal academic preparation, limiting students’ options early on.20 ­Others have long-­standing ties with higher education institutions, putting their students in better positions to attend more selective schools.21 However, the majority of this research has focused on examining schools that have largely homogeneous student bodies, where ­either privilege or disadvantage are concentrated. This book examines two unique high schools with racially and socioeco­nom­ically diverse student bodies. Park City and Evanstown high schools appeal to the most advantaged students and their families by promising rigorous curricula, extensive extracurricular opportunities, and a good chance at admission to a top college. With relatively low student–­counselor ratios, extensive resources, and a track rec­ord of good college outcomes, t­hese schools have every­thing we would think students need to be successful. Yet not every­one benefits from t­ hese advantages in the same way. This is particularly concerning ­because if students are struggling amid some of the best conditions, t­hose in less well-­resourced schools may have even greater challenges. My goal with this research was to examine a unique school context and see what we can learn h ­ ere that more homogeneous contexts have not made clear, and how we can apply t­hose lessons across contexts. In line with Annette Lareau’s recent American So­cio­log­i­cal Association Presidential address,22 I find that college destinations are many times the result of multiple, small decisions influenced by cultural knowledge that add

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 141

to up substantial inequalities in college destinations. What this research adds to Lareau’s is an examination of how high schools structure opportunities for students to make social connections that add to that cultural knowledge. Examining high schools such as Park City and Evanstown with heterogeneous populations makes clear that providing more resources such as AP classes and increasing expectations through a school culture focused on college may lead students to get into and attend college, but does not disrupt the reproduction of inequalities. Instead, inequalities shift from race and class disparities in college attendance to disparate college destinations. This research highlights the key role of information flows through social connections during the college application pro­cess. Social capital is impor­tant in the college application pro­cess; however, t­ here has been a lack of specificity about how that capital affects application decisions and college attendance. My research focuses on that how: by facilitating access to cultural knowledge about college through multiple ave­nues. Social capital comes in the form of (1) connections to peers who can introduce students to new colleges they may not have heard of and provide application help and emotional support during the pro­cess; (2) positive, trusting relationships with counselors so that students can access technical information (how to get transcripts sent) and advice (where should they apply); and (3) connections with college admissions officers, which may benefit students during admissions decisions, and provide both general and specialized college information during the search and application phase.23 While I argue that much of the orga­nizational brokering at both schools occurred in the background, that does not mean that it was unintentional. This was most evident in the dif­fer­ent college events that students attended. The college representative visits ­were advertised online and via morning announcements at both schools, but required that students sign up ahead of time and get a pass from their counselors. As Mr. Whitmore acknowledged, counselors knew this was not ­going to be enough to get the less engaged students to attend. For the Instant Decision Days, however, the guidance department engaged in more proactive strategies to reach students, such as calling them down individually and encouraging them to attend the event. The benefits for the schools to encouraging students to attend instant decision events ­were clear. An impor­tant statistic for the guidance department was how many students submitted applications to colleges. ­These events greatly increased the chance that students would apply to at least one college. Even though some counselors seemed to question the helpfulness of the Instant Decision Days and the HBCU fair for students, and noted how they did not encourage students to make good college decisions, it was in their interest to encourage as many students as they could to attend.

142  •  Divergent Paths to College

Opportunity Hoarding Why did orga­nizational brokering at Evanstown High School and Park City High School not work to increase connections among all students? Tracking, trust, and access to and timing of college events worked to provide students with dif­f er­ent opportunities to access social capital. Students with more advantage, who tended to be White and come from college-­educated families, benefited from each of t­hese f­actors disproportionately. Sociologists term this “opportunity hoarding”: when one group has access to key resources and works to prevent other groups from gaining access, many times by developing narratives that legitimize ­these pro­cesses.24 This occurred at both Park City High School and Evanstown High School in a few ways. The first was through small learning communities and tracking. At Park City High School, t­here was a clear racial divide between IGI and CSC. IGI, made up of Whiter and wealthier students, enjoyed a stellar academic reputation, whereas CSC existed in its shadow. Some teachers insisted that IGI was developed specifically to halt White flight. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that Evanstown was just beginning to develop two small learning communities, one focused on science and one on classical philosophy. I visited one of t­ hese classes in the classics and it was a small, lively group of intellectually engaged students, reading Plato on school-­ purchased iPads, all of whom ­were White. Teachers and counselors told me that since the classics small learning community had only gotten minimal interest among students, ­there had been discussions of closing it, but this was met by significant re­sis­tance by parents. At both schools, ­these small learning communities acted as a way for White, middle-­class families to access more resources and better academic preparation. The legitimizing narrative focused on student choice, however. This narrative overlooked that Black students might be choosing not to enroll in certain small learning communities or higher-­level classes b­ ecause they w ­ ere the minority and uncomfortable. Opportunity hoarding also occurred in college counseling. In examining the racial dynamics of a diverse school district similar in many ways to Park City and Evanstown, R. L’Heureux Lewis-­McCoy argues that “squeaky-­ wheel” families—­those who make demands of schools, teachers, and counselors for special treatment to benefit their ­children—­are accommodated b­ ecause the school district does not want ­those families to leave.25 Th ­ ese squeaky wheels tend to be White and ­middle class, and benefit from cultural knowledge of how institutions work and what they need to do to get their demands met. In demanding special ser­vices for their ­children, they take up finite resources, disadvantaging o­ thers who might need them. At Park City and Evanstown high schools, counselors frequently told me about the “squeaky wheels,” or “he­li­cop­ter parents,” who called and emailed them constantly and required extra meetings about their child’s college chances. This took up counselors’

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 143

time and energy, leading them to have less inclination and time to give personalized attention to other students and parents who seemed less invested. It set up a dynamic where this type of parental (and sometimes student) involvement was expected and normative, making ­those students and parents who did not engage in such strategies appear to lack initiative and seem less involved.26 Opportunity hoarding by wealthier and more privileged families sets their ­children up for better access to college information through well-­connected, like-­minded peers and connections with counselors and college admissions officers. It not only affects students’ academic experiences in classes but has the potential to affect where they end up ­going to college, leading to long-­term effects on mobility.

Recommendations for Policy, Practice, and Research Considering ­these concerns about inequalities in cultural knowledge and the way that high schools structure access, what can educators, policymakers, and researchers do to increase college access and success for all students? Below I discuss what colleges, high schools, counselors, and parents should take away from this book and make recommendations for policy and practice. I also discuss ­future lines of research that can lead to more beneficial outcomes for all students.

Higher Education Institutions Many colleges and universities are concerned with increasing access and campus diversity. Therefore, it is critical that they are aware of how information is distributed to students in high schools and how informational disparities may influence ­whether or not students apply. It is impor­tant for them to take owner­ ship over how their marketing strategies are affecting students. ­Free applications influenced students’ application be­hav­iors; however, this was most true for students from lower-­income families, many of whom w ­ ere paying their own application fees. A randomized experiment by economists at Stanford University and the University of V ­ irginia showed that fee waivers have a significant impact on college application.27 In their study, low-­income, high-­ achieving students (who would have qualified for traditional fee waivers) ­were given low-­paperwork fee waivers to apply to college. The economists found that such waivers induced students to apply to more colleges but did not affect their enrollment in more selective colleges. When fee waivers w ­ ere combined with interventions designed to increase students’ information about college academics and costs, however, enrollment was affected. Th ­ ese results suggest that application fees are an impediment to college application, but they also indicate that providing ­free applications alone can be problematic, as my findings substantiate. Application fees are limiting students’ college options early on,

144  •  Divergent Paths to College

before admissions decisions are even made. Colleges must be cognizant of how low-­income students respond to f­ ree applications and work to increase students’ access to good college information. Colleges and the federal government should work together on t­ hese issues. One way would be to have colleges link to the U.S. Department of Education College Scorecard website, which highlights student outcome data at dif­fer­ ent colleges. The Scorecard website was started in 2015 and allows students and parents to compare multiple institutions on key data points that affect students’ mobility and outcomes, including cost, student loan debt, and graduation rates. Requiring that all colleges and universities that receive federal aid link to the Scorecard, and that students view the data before their online application can be submitted, may help students more accurately evaluate colleges. Similarly, to receive a fee waiver (­either traditional or via an individual institution), students could be required to view the Scorecard website or engage in a tutorial on its usage. Currently, students receive some of this information on their Student Aid Report, a­ fter they submit the FAFSA. This may be too late ­after their application for students to receive the information, however, and they are not required to read it. Requiring that students view this information when applying may be more useful. ­These proposals may not be popu­lar with some colleges that may not want their costs, graduation rates, and student employment outcomes (the three data points first vis­i­ble when students go to the website) highlighted. Providing students with this information may conflict with the pictures colleges paint on their websites and in their brochures. However, it may also encourage colleges and universities to invest more in resources that w ­ ill have an impact on ­these numbers: financial aid and counseling to lower debt load and default rates, academic support to increase per­sis­tence and graduation rates, and ­career ser­vices that are effective in helping students find jobs. Higher education institutions may then have more incentive to invest in t­ hese resources, as opposed to investing so heavi­ly in marketing and recruiting. The goal of nonprofit educational institutions should be providing the best educational opportunities and experiences pos­si­ble to all students, not simply increasing enrollment and generating tuition dollars. This means shifting the emphasis in college admissions offices from marketing to student well-­being, which aligns more with college and university missions that emphasize equity, diversity, access, and success for all. The prob­lem with the kind of marketing that I observed during my research at Park City and Evanstown high schools is that its effect on students is directly proportional to how much cultural knowledge they have. More advantaged students ­were frequently turned off by too much marketing and found ­those schools “desperate.” Less advantaged students w ­ ere flattered. For them, the application pro­cess was a steep mountain with numerous obstacles, such as

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 145

counselors and even parents who ­were constantly trying to bring them “back to earth.” When college admissions officers filled ­those guidance holes, they exerted a lot of influence; however, they had a stake in the game and did not offer objective guidance. Colleges need to shift their focus from marketing to guidance, from filling classes to providing educational opportunity in actuality, not just in marketing pitches to students. In the long run, this does benefit colleges b­ ecause if students accept their offers of admission but are not good “fits,” or truly cannot afford to attend, then their chance of persisting is low.28 Not only does this hurt the student; it also hurts the college. It creates new challenges to attracting students when they see low graduation rates and takes up resources that must now be spent on more marketing to fill t­ hose tuition holes. Colleges end up in a self-­perpetuating cycle of low standards, low graduation rates, and low enrollments.29 Colleges and universities should be leading the charge to simplify the pro­ cess to obtain an application fee waiver and increase the income threshold level, which may level the playing field more for lower-­income students regarding their application options. Admissions officers should be instructed to take on more of a counseling role when talking with students, as some did during the college representative visits. Colleges and universities should take ­these steps not only ­because it ­will benefit their institutions in the long run, but ­because it is their responsibility to society and the public good to avoid misleading young ­people by promising them an education that they cannot afford and that may not even lead to a degree.30

High Schools High schools have a pivotal role to play in increasing students’ access to colleges that are good fits and where they have a good chance of success. High schools such as Park City and Evanstown must take owner­ship over the brokering they are d­ oing. Taking a more active role in connecting students to social capital via peers, a source of college information that was prob­ably not on the schools’ radars, could lead to informational gains for less advantaged students. While discontinuing tracking might be a solution to a multitude of inequalities at schools such as Park City High School and Evanstown High School, it is not necessarily realistic. Parents would likely protest that without AP classes and credits via AP exams, their ­children ­will be less competitive in the college admissions pro­cess. Some may argue that their c­ hildren w ­ ill be disadvantaged and pulled down by t­ hose who are less academically able. They may threaten to leave the school district.31 All are common refrains when advantaged families work to preserve inequalities that benefit them and they pres­ent difficult po­liti­cal ­battles for schools to take on. To their credit, both schools had taken steps to reduce tracking in certain classes. Th ­ ese steps still

146  •  Divergent Paths to College

relied on legitimizing narratives of choice and ability, however. Schools need to recognize ­these narratives, and that may not accurately reflect the pro­cesses in place. Black students w ­ ere choosing not to enroll or stay in higher-­level classes or IGI ­because they ­were uncomfortable, met with low expectations by teachers and counselors, and ­were teased by peers. Recognizing ­these issues and acknowledging them is the first step ­toward addressing such inequalities. ­Doing so was valued by students, who related to ­those counselors and staff such as Mrs. Scott and Mrs. Ricardo, who acknowledged the impact of race. Engaging in structured schoolwide discussions about t­ hese and other racial inequalities might be the first step t­oward making Black students feel more comfortable in such classes and open up the door for counselors to engage in more honest conversations about students’ curricular choices. Overcoming long-­held ste­reo­types about race, class, and achievement is not something that can happen overnight, and while acknowledging and discussing t­ hese issues is a first step, changes may be slow to come, and it may take a while to establish a culture where race is not linked to certain classes, programs, or spaces. Working at the same time to encourage students to participate in a variety of extracurricular activities that cross racial bound­aries can also lead to more cross-­race interaction and potentially to an increase in social capital.32 Many activities tend to be racially segregated; however, when students like Christian and Max ­were involved in sports that put them in line to meet students that they would not have other­wise, they benefited. Environments in which students have equal status and are working t­ oward a common goal with institutional support predict more positive interracial contact.33 Many sports and clubs such as debate teams, the United Nations, and Fed Challenge have ­these characteristics. Schools need to keep in mind how ideas about race affect students’ club and sports choices, acknowledge ­these, and actively work to create integrated experiences. One way to do this is by having coaches or club sponsors actively reach out to dif­f er­ent populations of students and by employing peers to reach out to students as well. Again, schools need to actively c­ ounter the narrative of choice by acknowledging cultural and structural barriers to student participation.

Counselors Counselors play a very impor­tant role in assisting students with the college application pro­cess, and that role is fraught with challenges. Counselors are seen as gatekeepers when they try to steer students ­toward schools that they believe are better academic fits and as pushers of the college-­for-­all mantra when they fail to do so. They are consistently tasked with too much and given too few resources.34 As a result, many may exist in a constant “triage” mode, providing better counseling to ­those they think ­will benefit and minimal help to o­ thers.35 Despite being at well-­resourced schools with relatively

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 147

low student–­counselor ratios, the counselors at Park City High School and Evanstown High School w ­ ere pulled in multiple directions by disparate student populations with vastly dif­fer­ent needs, compounding their workload. Many counselors that I spoke with wanted the best for their students and worked extra hours on the weekends writing recommendations. Many times they still failed to connect with the most disadvantaged students, however. To better connect with such students and develop trusting relationships that may facilitate better access to social capital for students, counselors (and schools) need to rethink their strategies. Mass dissemination of information is not successful in reaching less advantaged students.36 Relying on students to seek out help and interacting via one-­on-­one sessions may not work in high schools with high student-­to-­counselor ratios, or with students who are less comfortable asking for such help. Less advantaged students may need more contact with their counselors over time to develop trusting relationships, which is not always pos­si­ble in current counseling models. Evaluations of a new model of college coaching in Chicago public schools point to some potential changes that could benefit students.37 Such models employ college “coaches” or advisors who do not have caseloads but are instead tasked with assisting all students with the college application pro­cess. They report to district supervisors, not principals. It is impor­tant to note that they employ strategies designed to reach the most disadvantaged youth: proactively reaching out to students, building trust, and taking advantage of peer networks to provide information and develop social support. Although Evanstown High School had a college and ­career counselor whose role was similar to the “coach,” the model that he employed still relied on student initiative to receive guidance. ­These coaching strategies address many of the issues I have found problematic in the counseling program at both Park City and Evanstown high schools. Fi­nally, both schools and districts need to be aware of how counselors react to pressures to increase statistics such as the number of college applications and the resulting unintended consequences. When counselors are accountable for numbers such as how many students submit applications, they engage in strategies to increase ­those numbers. Instant decision events ­were a way to increase application numbers with questionable outcomes for students. Resources might have been better spent increasing access to college information and encouraging ­these students to apply earlier, rather than organ­izing an event with the expectation that students ­will be applying too late. If schools are to continue to attend or hold such events, they must spend more time during the pre-­event workshops ­going over how to evaluate colleges and increasing students’ knowledge about college. Finding ways to facilitate college research prior to the event is critical. Fi­nally, high schools and counselors need to acknowledge the disparities in who is attending dif­fer­ent events.

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Counselors ­were willing to adjust their strategies to reach students for the Instant Decision Days, but needed to do so six months earlier so that t­ hese same students could attend the college representative visits. Schools and districts need to support counselors in ­these strategies by emphasizing more meaningful outcomes. Data should inform a larger picture of students’ trajectories and include multiple mea­sures such as application numbers, postsecondary destinations, and post–­high school educational attainment, among ­others, as ways to understand both counselor effectiveness and student outcomes. It is impor­tant to note that success must be defined in a way that does not depend solely on college attendance. An impor­tant question that educators, policymakers, and researchers need to consider is how should students go about applying to less or nonselective colleges? What kind of cultural knowledge is needed and how do we know who needs it? Not every­one is ­going to attend highly or even somewhat selective colleges and universities. Some students would be better served by attending two-­year community colleges, or less than two-­year trade schools. Focusing solely on college application without providing guidance on navigating other types of institutions may be detrimental to the most disadvantaged students who are susceptible to the marketing of for-­profits.38 While previously subbaccalaureate credentials provided few or no advantages for students, recent research suggests that this may not be true anymore.39 How can we better prepare students for ­these types of institutions? A first step to preparing students for options beyond selective four-­year colleges is providing information early and often in their high school c­ areers about postsecondary education options and ­careers. First-­generation college students often lack social ties to adults with college experience and may be more drawn to postsecondary options that seem familiar to them.40 Schools and counselors need to recognize both the strengths and drawbacks to students relying solely on their out-­ of-­school social networks, with limited input from counselors. Encouraging and providing support for counselors to develop trusting relationships with students may make t­ hose hard conversations about students’ chances of success at dif­fer­ent types of colleges and universities easier to have ju­nior and se­nior year. It may also increase the chances that students ­will listen to their counselors’ advice.

Parents I do not address the role of parents in this book, as I only have second­hand data on them. According to students, however, parents are critical. Middle-­ class parents ­were one of the most impor­tant sources of cultural knowledge about college for students. They ingrained in students a sense of entitlement to better counseling and access to higher-­level classes. Many students took advantage of their parents’ social networks when gathering college informa-

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 149

tion. Parents also provided a critical resource in terms of paying for students’ college educations. The parents of less advantaged students ­were also impor­tant during the college application pro­cess. Many ­were very supportive of their ­children’s postsecondary goals. Their support buoyed students and kept their expectations high, in spite of any discouragement they encountered at school or as they strug­gled to navigate an extremely confusing pro­cess. ­These parents did their best to connect students to ­those who could assist by tapping into their own social networks or taking advantage of nonprofit college counseling organ­izations. However, most lacked the knowledge to provide concrete help with t­hings such as the SATS or college essays, strug­gled with confusing financial aid forms, and did not know enough about vari­ous deadlines to stay on top of students’ applications. Both high schools tried to connect parents to college information. Both held Parent’s Nights for each grade level in the fall, and the ones for parents of ju­niors and se­niors focused heavi­ly on college. Park City High School held a Financial Aid Night for parents and Evanstown High School held a Mock Admissions Event for both students and parents to orient them to what went on inside admissions offices. Both provided college information to parents via their counseling websites, newsletters, and College Pi­lot. However, much of ­these initiatives relied on the same princi­ples that counselors employed when dealing with students, such as providing information without guidance on what to do with it, mass dissemination, and parent-­initiated meetings. Counselors at both schools lamented a lack of parental involvement among the less advantaged student population and strug­gled with how to address it. Employing some similar strategies as I have suggested for students, such as having counselors take the initiative to connect with parents, may open up lines of communication. Parents without college experience who may be reading this book should be encouraged to be the “squeaky wheels” when necessary. It is my hope that this book has shed some light on the unspoken expectations and “rules of the game” when navigating the college application pro­cess. It was expected that parents would be highly involved in the pro­cess both at home and via contact with counselors. While some parents may not be able to help their ­children with applications, SATs, and college essays, they can reach out to school counselors, and may also benefit from seeking out nonprofit college counseling centers, such as STAR in Park City. Social networks can also be beneficial: some private college counselors that I spoke with offered their ser­ vices for ­free to less advantaged students that they ­were introduced to via current clients, some students benefited from mentors whom they met at church or in their neighborhood, and o­ thers connected with f­ amily members such as aunts and ­uncles who had college experience. Parents should keep in mind the

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importance of connecting their ­children with as many sources of college information as pos­si­ble.

­Future Research An impor­tant question for scholars and researchers interested in college access, the postsecondary transition, and higher education in­equality is, What now? What kinds of research needs to be conducted to further illuminate the mechanisms of in­equality and to identify appropriate intervention? More research is needed on the effects of declining state and federal financial support for universities and how this is played out in their enrollment management strategies. Many universities are relying more and more on tuition revenue, and less on state and federal aid. This puts nonprofit universities in the position where they must act like businesses to survive. Mitchell Stevens’s ethnography brought us inside the Admissions Office at “The College,” exposing how admissions decisions at a selective, small liberal arts college ­were many times driven by concerns over their rankings and their bottom lines, leaving many deserving students with rejection letters.41 A recent ethnography of how admissions works at a nonselective, unranked college (Ravenwood) by anthropologist Alex Posecznick provides an impor­tant companion to Stevens’s work.42 While admissions officers at Ravenwood College ­were less concerned with rankings, numbers still drove their work more than students’ well-­being. Most concerning, the students that colleges such as Ravenwood serve are among the most disadvantaged in terms of cultural, social, and financial capital. Research that examines how admissions and enrollment management policies impact students’ decision making and student outcomes at a variety of college types is impor­tant to illuminate the consequences of decisions that push schools like The College and Ravenwood to act more like businesses than educational institutions. This extends to for-­profit colleges as well. Between 2000 and 2009, for-­profit institutions increased their share of full-­time students they enrolled from 4 ­percent to 11 ­percent.43 Low-­ income youth are overrepresented in ­these institutions.44 What are ­these schools ­doing that is so appealing to students? This is a critical question ­because the outcomes for students who attend such schools are bleak. Students who attend for-­profit institutions pay more and take out more loans, but are less likely to gradu­ate and have higher unemployment rates.45 We need to understand why students are seeking out ­these institutions and what educators at both the secondary and postsecondary level can do to help students be more informed when making their college decisions. The second task for researchers is to continue to investigate the small decisions that add up to key forks in the road for students during the college application pro­cess. To attend a highly selective college, students need to begin preparing early on in high school, if not before. Then they must take multiple

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 151

steps ju­nior and se­nior year, including researching and visiting colleges; studying for and taking the SATs, the ACTs and SAT IIs; writing multiple college essays; securing teacher recommendations; and interacting with admissions counselors at vari­ous points. Which (if any) of ­these steps is the most critical? How do students make sense of the information they receive when completing ­these steps? Can students move onto and off of the path t­ oward a more selective college with ease, or are they locked in (or off) early on? Research that examines similar questions about the path t­oward unselective or less selective colleges would offer impor­tant comparisons. ­These types of studies are impor­tant for educators and policymakers looking to develop programs at key points of intervention. Fi­nally, we need more research on the role of school counselors, particularly from their point of view. In this book, I focus on how students felt about counselors and the way they viewed their interactions. This perspective is critical ­because this was students’ realities and what they believed about counselors was ­going to inform their interactions, or w ­ hether they interacted with their counselors at all. I tried to also get the counselors’ views to provide a fuller picture of the school context, but as I describe in the methodological appendix, I had to make strategic decisions during my data collection about whom to align myself with, and where to spend my time. This resulted in less time with counselors and less rapport, affecting the kinds of data I was able to get. ­Future research should examine how both orga­nizational and interactional variables affect counselors. Although Park City High School and Evanstown High School or­ga­nized their counseling offices differently, I did not find this to have much of an effect on students’ trust or relationships with counselors; however, such orga­nizational ­factors may affect how counselors engage in their work, or other types of orga­nizational structures may have more effects on counselor–­student relationships. Understanding the college application pro­cess from the counselor perspective may point out some of t­ hose “key moments” that educators and policymakers can address.

Four Years ­Later: Pathways through Postsecondary Institutions In addition to spending more time examining what happens before students make their enrollment decisions, scholars also need to spend time investigating what happens ­after students set foot on campus. While t­ here has been a lot of focus on increasing college access, it is actually college completion that brings about many of the benefits of college-­going, including increasing returns in the ­labor market.46 While the majority of students are attending college ­today at some point ­a fter high school,47 only about 59 ­percent of t­ hose who begin at a four-­year institution end up graduating within six years.48 ­Those who attend more selective institutions are more likely to gradu­ate, with

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88 ­percent of ­those attending most selective colleges graduating within six years, whereas only 32 ­percent of t­ hose who attend open admissions colleges do so.49 Bachelor’s degree attainment rates are much lower for ­those who begin at a two-­year college with plans to transfer to a four-­year institution: only about 20 ­percent had obtained a BA degree eight years a­ fter graduating high school.50 Per­sis­tence is tied to many ­things, including students’ high school experiences. Students’ academic preparation, including the courses they take and their high school GPA, predicts college per­sis­tence.51 Student involvement and engagement in high school, including their participation in extracurricular activities, is related to an increase in the chance of graduating from college.52 When I followed up with students four years ­a fter high school, I  wanted to see how other aspects of their high school experiences, such as how they navigated the college application pro­cess, affected their college experiences, and particularly their college per­sis­tence and graduation. Examining the trajectories of students in my sample suggests that cultural knowledge and social capital (or lack thereof) continued to exert influences during college.

Mariah’s Trajectory: The Importance of Financial Security Mariah gave me a warm hug when I met up with her four years l­ ater in a coffee shop in Evanstown. I recognized her big smile as soon as she walked in, though her shoulder-­length hair was now cut short on the sides and the top was long and curly. Mariah and I quickly settled into the interview as she excitedly caught me up on every­thing she had been up to during the last four years. During high school, much of Mariah’s education had been influenced by a chronic illness that caused her to frequently miss school, as much as six months her sophomore year. Mariah and I spent much of that interview in April discussing her and her ­mother’s health. Both Mariah and her ­mother suffered from the same chronic illness, and her m ­ other had been in and out of the hospital and under­gone major surgery in the last few years. Mariah’s health issues had affected her college education, and she strug­gled with missing classes and professors who told her that u­ nless she “had cancer,” she needed to come to class. All of this was made more difficult by the fact that her f­ ather was supposed to pay for her health insurance and when he changed jobs a few years ago, he let her insurance lapse without telling her. “I went to the doctor and they ­were like, ‘You ­don’t have any insurance’ and the co-­pay was like $300. So that’s why I was like, well, ‘Dad, like what am I supposed to do?’ ” Mariah did not have his contact information, and her aunt (her dad’s s­ister) would not give it to her. “I still to this day ­don’t know his address ­because he ­didn’t tell me.” This was all right before she was to start college and having health insurance was required for her to enroll. She told her ­father, “ ‘You understand that, like, I c­ an’t go to school if you d­ on’t do this,’ and he basically, like, went miss-

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 153

ing. Like I was trying to talk to him and he just ­wouldn’t respond to me.” In the end, her f­ ather came through days before the due date, but not before her ­mother and grandparents had to cobble together money for insurance from the state. Unfortunately, stressful financial situations like this became common during Mariah’s time in college. She chose to attend a regional state university ­because they offered her the best financial aid package, though she still had to pay about $1000 each semester. Her great-­grandfather was paying for her books. Her m ­ other agreed to pay half of the money owed each semester. Mariah had been working since she began college to make up her half. However, she strug­ gled with paying for school, her car, and other expenses. “It’s always month to month. It’s literally always. Sometimes it’s week to week b­ ecause I ­don’t make the same amount of money tutoring [­every week].” One time, Mariah made a ­mistake with her payments, leading her to owe about $300 more than usual one semester. When I needed to increase the payment, I d­ idn’t know how to, like, do it properly, so we ended up owing more money than I thought. So t­ here was like a time when I was scrambling to like figure out how we w ­ ere gonna pay it ­because it, like, went up to the last payment being $565 as opposed to, like, the two-­ something or even the three-­something that we w ­ ere used to. So, I ­couldn’t come together with $300 all on my own and pay my car note and pay my insurance. I was stressed out.

Mariah was not just stressed out, she “cried . . . ​a lot.” She reached out to her aunt for money but got no response. She talked to her mom, who said “­we’ll figure it out,” but did not seem to have a plan for how to do that. She went to the Financial Aid Office, which gave her a number to call. Fi­nally, “My grandparents had overheard me yelling at my mom and crying about the situation, so I guess, like, out of like pity . . . ​they actually gave me $500.” Despite her f­amily, financial, and health issues, Mariah was ­doing well in college. She switched her major, so was ­behind one semester, but believed she would be graduating in December. At the time of our interview, she had a GPA of 3.47.53 However, the regional state university was not NYU, where she had hoped to attend when we discussed colleges for the first time ju­nior year. It was not as selective as many of the schools on her list. In fact, she did not even fill out an application. “I d­ idn’t r­ eally apply to [regional state university], I just sent in my SAT scores and my transcripts. . . . ​I never ever got on the website to fill out the application. . . . ​So then I got an ac­cep­tance and I was, like, I d­ idn’t apply.” Mariah’s strug­gles and successes w ­ ere similar to ­those of other first-­generation college students that I followed up with. All the students that I interviewed

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that ­were in college had GPAs of 3.0 or above. They found college challenging in some ways—­Mariah said it was “a rude awakening for every­thing”—­but they ­were academically capable. Money was a constant worry, however. Even for Allora, who had her education fully paid for via scholarships and grants, it was a strug­gle. “It’s hard. I find myself a lot of times living pay check to pay check. I get a refund at school. Usually when I get that refund, I put it all ­towards my car. So it’s just, like, gone. It’s like, ‘Oh, t­ here it is again.’ I’m broke again.” All had extra jobs that they ­were working to fund their education. In contrast, most of the students whose parents w ­ ere college educated had few financial worries in college. Theo attended a public university across the country, making it far from an inexpensive option. However, his parents “paid all of college. They paid room and board. Um, they paid groceries. They gave me like a ­little extra [each] month—­like they ­really paid for every­thing.” When I interviewed Theo, he had just graduated from college and was working at his first job. Even then, he still could rely on his parents. “I mean, like, they are totally ­there if, like, I needed them, you know. Got a flat tire and ­couldn’t pay it. Like they would of course pay it, something like that.” Middle-­class parents could provide financial security, which can affect not just where students choose to attend but also w ­ hether or not they persist. Financial security is an impor­tant f­ actor to consider when examining students’ success in college, and not just w ­ hether their tuition is paid, but also w ­ hether they are able to meet financial needs in their daily lives, such as rent and food.54 Increasing students’ grant aid can increase the chance of college completion in four years, according to recent research.55 This is impor­tant to consider when thinking about the long-­term effects of students’ college application decisions and enrollment choices. Adequate aid is impor­tant for per­sis­tence, and cultural knowledge and social connections can facilitate access to knowledge about financial aid pro­ cesses. Though determined and intellectually capable, Mariah had limited financial means and numerous stresses in her life. One misstep in her financial forms meant the inability to pay her tuition. Mariah lacked many connections at her college due to her health issues taking up much of her time and energy, so she did not have any one to turn to for help. Other students faced worse financial prob­lems due to their lack of cultural knowledge, which affected their ability to attend college. Eve never attended college ­because she received very ­little money ­after filling out the FAFSA. Her ­family planned to take out loans to help her, but waited u­ ntil the end of the summer, then realized that they did not have good enough credit to do so. “­Because of, like, past t­hings g­ oing on with my parents’ credit and stuff like that, ­because, you know, the w ­ hole recession ­thing kinda hit my parents hard and it’s, like, you know, t­ hey’ve been rebuilding since then, but then, like, their credit was not good enough for me to be able to take out t­ hese loans.” Mal-

Consequences for the Application Pro­cess • 155

colm made multiple ­mistakes on the FAFSA, which ended up limiting his college choices. Both of their financial strug­gles w ­ ere compounded by their lack of strong relationships with their counselors. Eve never contacted her counselor to try to get help with the situation. “Mostly b­ ecause it’s like you go to her, she was nice, but then ­there w ­ ere some ­things that she did as a counselor that I ­didn’t like. I ­don’t like it when ­people in a way belittle your dreams.” Malcolm did not reach out to his counselor b­ ecause, “­There’s some information on FAFSA that you just ­don’t want to give to anybody.” Lack of relationships inhibited students’ use of counselor knowledge to assist with the financial aid pro­cess. Counselors w ­ ere also unwilling to help with financial aid forms sometimes due to lack of trust. Knowing how institutions work and how to work them is equally critical to navigating college as it is to completing the application and financial aid pro­cesses. Students who benefited from it during the college application pro­ cess continued to benefit in college. Hannah strug­gled in a stats class and made sure to see her professor to get extra help. “I lived in office hours, my professor knew me very well. And I mean I strug­gled, but I know how to fix it.” If students did not have the cultural knowledge, then their parents did. Theo had a “bad roommate experience” his freshman year. He spent the first two weeks on campus “trying to get out of that room.” He fi­nally ended up getting a new room when “my parents came to town for something, and they fi­nally just, like, went into the residential office, it was like enough is enough. Soon they started to [take it] a ­little bit more seriously.” Two weeks ­later, he had a new dorm room. Social connections could lead to cultural knowledge for some students. Malcolm made a friend his freshman year who “explained to me, like, the dynamics, and how t­ hings work.” She “helped me get in with the professors and the En­glish club.” Malcolm said about the first year of college: “It’s like ­you’re thrown to the wolves. You d­ on’t know what’s where, up is where. Like, you ­don’t know. So it helps having that other person who’s like, ‘Okay, this is where you go for this. This is how you ask for this.’ ” Cultural knowledge and access to the social capital that can increase such knowledge is not just impor­tant during the college application pro­cess. Knowing how colleges work and how to work them can contribute to college social integration, academic achievement, and ultimately, to college per­sis­tence and graduation. ­Those students who had this knowledge in high school ­were successful at translating it into the college environment. Other times, students made connections with ­those who could be cultural guides and illuminate the hidden rules of how t­ hings work, like Malcolm did. However, if high schools like Park City High School and Evanstown High School worked to increase students’ cultural knowledge through their social capital earlier on, this might smooth the high school-­to-­college transition. It might also provide

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students with the knowledge to navigate college more effectively, perhaps increasing achievement as well as per­sis­tence.

A Final Word Park City and Evanstown high schools ­were successful in many ways and had a lot to offer students. Both schools worked hard to encourage all students to attend college. Students, some of whom may not have known anyone in their immediate families who attended college, heard about college e­ very day, had access to large college fairs, and ­were taken on trips to visit other fairs and even college campuses in the area. Both schools offered extensive curricular options, including almost e­ very AP option, specialized small learning communities, and special programs to accommodate a wide variety of student needs and interests. Both Park City High School and Evanstown High School had good reputations as some of the most diverse, yet also most successful, high schools in the area. For a good portion of students, Park City and Evanstown high schools w ­ ere serving them well. The goal of this book has been to shed light on the internal pro­cesses of the schools that sort and provide impor­tant college information, and assess w ­ hether ­those pro­cesses worked the same for all students. I argue that ­there ­were portions of students who w ­ ere less well served by the same pro­cesses that propelled students to the Ivy League. Instead, t­ hese students ­were tracked into community colleges or less and nonselective four-­year colleges, not through traditional tracking mechanisms, but through the kinds of college information to which they had access. ­These informational differences continued to affect students ­after high school. The majority of Americans across race and class look to higher education as the ticket to a good job and a stable income. The desire for a college education is ingrained in students early on at home and in school. However, not all students are equally prepared to reach the kinds of higher education institutions that would put them on the best path ­toward the ­labor market outcomes they hope for. All students deserve equal opportunities to get into the best institution that they can that matches their educational and occupational goals. Just ­because they are the first in their families to attend college does not mean that ­these students should be satisfied with any educational destination. Identifying the impor­tant role of high schools in brokering students’ access to information that puts them on track to dif­fer­ent college destinations is an impor­ tant step ­toward providing true equality of opportunity.

Methodological Appendix I began this proj­ect knowing I wanted to study how students navigate the college application pro­cess. Ever since my own experience applying to college, I have been interested in how youth gather information and make this momentous decision. When I was applying, I remember feeling overwhelmed with all that could wrong in the pro­cess, although I spent a lot of time reading ­every college application guide I could get my hands on. Considering that many of the most selective colleges have gotten even more competitive in the years since I went through the pro­cess, I was interested in how students ­today gathered information. Who ­were students talking to about college? How did they know what to ask? Or did they know? Particularly, I wanted to see how college information gathering varied by both race and class. W ­ ere some students better able to access information than ­others? Why was that? ­These types of questions led me to want to look at schools that had a range of students, in terms of race and socioeconomic class, so that I could understand ­these differences within the same context. Much of the lit­er­a­ture has focused on examining differences across schools, but I wanted to see what happened within the same school. ­Were more advantaged students still better positioned to gather college information? And if so, why? I wanted to find schools where students ­were put in the best position to succeed and see if social background characteristics still affected their college outcomes, and if so, how this occurred.

Site Se­lection I knew that t­ here w ­ ere a number of schools in the area outside of Metro in Northeastern State that fit my criteria. I focused on Cedar County, Prince County, and another nearby county and sent letters to the superintendents of

157

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schools that fit my criteria: they had high rates of students attending college (at least 80 ­percent) and a racially diverse student body (at least 30 ­percent non-­ White). I was initially looking to vary the racial composition enough so that I could compare schools and see how this affected students’ experiences. I was also looking to study three schools: one with an approximately 50/50 split between Black and White students, one with a significant proportion of Latino students (resulting in an approximately 33/33/33 ratio of Black, White, and Latino students), and a majority White school. I had picked out my ideal schools that had ­these proportions and eagerly sent out letters to superintendents in the spring of 2010. I heard back from Park City very quickly, and a­ fter a quick phone call with the community liaison, I was in. Unfortunately, none of my other experiences ­were as easy and stress-­free as my interactions with Park City. I never heard back from the 33/33/33 proportion district, despite a few emails and additional letters. I was granted a meeting with the superintendent, principal, and guidance director at the majority White school I chose. The guidance director was openly antagonistic, however, and I learned that the minority student population was smaller than I had originally thought. Even though the superintendent eventually gave me permission, I chose not to conduct my study t­ here. I then sent out more letters to other districts in the area. When I received a curt email telling me “no” from the assistant superintendent of a district that I was r­ eally excited about, I tried to follow up with additional emails to find out why and see what I could do to possibly gain access. I got no response, so used a personal contact who facilitated an introduction with the guidance director at the high school. I thought that if I could get the high school interested, they might have some sway over the superintendent. While the guidance director was friendly and receptive, the response from the assistant superintendent to my indirect approach was hostile and full of suspicion regarding my “true motives.” Although I was granted permission to conduct research t­ here, it came with so many caveats that I chose to drop this school from consideration. This meant that I was coming up on the end of August with only one school confirmed to participate. I sent out more letters to schools. I reached out to more friends of friends in the hopes of finding someone with an “in” who could help me actually speak to someone in one of ­these districts. When school started and I began observing in Park City High School, I had almost abandoned my hope to include multiple schools. Then, I received an email from the superintendent of Evanstown who invited me to sit down with him for a meeting. I met with him and he seemed interested in the proj­ect and what the district might learn from it. I was given permission to begin observing and interviewing at Evanstown, and fi­nally began in mid-­October.

Methodological Appendix • 159

Trust and Rapport ­ very school has its own culture and customs. Part of my research consisted of E spending time in each school to try to understand how the school “worked” before I began my interviews. This meant trying to figure out every­thing from the daily schedule to where dif­fer­ent social groups hung out. I also aimed to gain student and faculty trust by simply making myself a common fixture at the school, so that they ­were familiar with who I was and what I was ­doing before I asked them to participate in interviews. I underestimated how challenging it would be for one person to do this at two large high schools in only a few months. I spent four to five days each week at a school, but that meant that I was only at each school for a few days each week. I found it hard, especially at Park City, which was larger, to become that “familiar face” during my time ­there. ­Every time I walked into the main office for the first few months, I was greeted with an interrogation by the administrative assistant as to who I was, why I was ­there, and who gave me permission. I was scolded for not wearing my ID (which I actively chose not to do ­because that is what adults and teachers in the school did and I wanted to align myself more with the students). I also found that most students, and some teachers, w ­ ere not quite clear about my role or what I was ­doing. I told students that I was a gradu­ate student from Harvard University d­ oing research. Most continued to think I was a counseling intern or student teacher from the local university. I found it hard to correct students (and some administrative personnel), despite my best efforts. During some casual encounters I let it slide, but when working to recruit students for interviews or when observing and talking with students at college events, I had to sometimes explain my role and the purpose of the study a few times, to make sure we ­were all on the same page. Early on, I had deci­ded to focus on the students’ perspectives at the two high schools: how they engaged in the college pro­cess, what they thought about their options and the information available to them. To get a full picture of their contexts, however, I still wanted to interview adults in the schools—­teachers, administrators, and other school support personnel. I also needed good relationships with adults b­ ecause they controlled access to classrooms, schedules, and other data. This put me in the position of balancing my desire to show students I was on their side, while still maintaining relationships with teachers, counselors, and administrators. I tried to achieve this by dressing down in jeans, sitting with students in classrooms, and chatting them up in offices or at events, instead of adults. In ­doing this, however, I did lose out on gaining the trust of some teachers and counselors. While d­ oing observations, at least one teacher was openly hostile to me while I was in the classroom. While ­doing interviews, it was clear that not all counselors and administrators ­were being

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especially forthcoming, and that they ­were concerned with what I would do with their information. One counselor that I interviewed asked me if he could review what I wrote before I submitted it (we discussed his concerns about his position, and I assured him of confidentiality regarding what­ever he told me). Some of t­ hese interviews ended up being almost useless, as it was clear that respondents w ­ ere painting a much rosier picture of the school than was real­ity and I ended up feeling like I was getting the brochure version of the school’s culture, not the insider version. Lack of rapport and trust also meant it was very difficult to secure interviews. Even ­after trying for two years, I was never able to interview one counselor at Park City High School who said she just “­didn’t have time.” I fi­nally tracked down another counselor at Evanstown High School who had been putting me off and insisting I email her my interview questions ahead of time. At the end of our interview, she told me that it actually “­wasn’t that bad.” While I think I was successful in gaining the trust of students, I did still have some challenges ­here as well. In establishing rapport with students, I drew on my knowledge of the area and the high school I went to, which was similar to Park City and Evanstown in terms of racial composition. This seemed to help ­because it made me more relatable, as opposed to being an outsider from an Ivy League university. Overall, I think the Harvard name worked both for and against me in terms of recruiting students. Some students may have been more interested in the study b­ ecause of the Harvard name, hoping that I might give them some more information about the school. ­Others may have been dissuaded from participating, especially if they w ­ ere not planning on attending college or planned on g­ oing to a community college.

Data Collection The first few months I observed in both schools by ­going to classes, sitting in the lunchroom, and attending college-­related events such as college fairs, representative visits, trips, financial aid nights, and workshops. I continued to do this once I began interviewing students, but to a lesser extent. I also shadowed five students and three staff members during the course of my time at the schools. I had originally planned on shadowing more students (following them around for the day and attending classes with them), but both schools instilled logistical obstacles that made it very challenging. I needed to get permission from teachers ahead of time before I could observe in their classes, which meant I needed to get permission from students I wanted to shadow, then get their schedule, then email their teachers, then wait for responses. Setting this all up days in advance was awkward and more formal than I had anticipated and made it difficult to find willing students. Evanstown also required that I secure parental permission, which added another step. Shad-

Methodological Appendix • 161

owing ended up being more time consuming than I anticipated due to ­these logistics, so I focused more on student interviews. I did shadow three staff members: a counselor, an administrator, and a security guard. ­These w ­ ere easier to secure and each of the staff members had a good rapport with students, so I was also able to meet new students this way and gain access to ­those who ­were more disengaged academically and socially from the school. ­A fter a few months at the schools, I began the pro­cess of identifying and securing interviews with students. At both schools, I was provided with lists of students stratified by race and grade, and I began by randomly choosing students and inviting them to an information session where I explained about the proj­ect and handed out parental consent forms. To get enough students to participate, I had to go through this pro­cess two to three times at each school. I would then follow up with students to remind them about consent forms. The daily schedule at Evanstown made this easier: students had a 1.5 hour–­ long homeroom period once a week and I was able to visit with students, remind them about the study, and collect consent forms. Park City did not have homerooms and not ­every student had a study hall, and since I could not disturb students during class, this made it difficult to find students and follow up with them. I think this is why my sample at Park City was more skewed ­toward higher-­achieving and higher-­income students—­these students ­were more likely to be interested in talking about college and in the Harvard name, and more likely to return consent forms. I found that lower-­achieving and less-­advantaged students tended to respond better when I approached them individually (or emailed or texted them) and let them know that I was particularly interested in talking to them. It is in­ter­est­ing to note that some of my findings showed that this was also the case for ­these students and counselor meetings—­they ­were less likely to respond to a general invitation to see their counselor and more likely to visit when their counselor showed a personal interest. In addition to the random sampling of students, I also asked students to refer me to friends and I asked counselors, coaches, and other staff to suggest and introduce me to populations of students that I was having a hard time recruiting (particularly Black males). In the end, I was able to secure a pretty diverse sample of students for my proj­ect. I interviewed a total of eighty-­nine students and my student sample was equally split in terms of gender (51 ­percent male and 49 ­percent female). I chose to focus overall on understanding the experiences of Black and White students, so t­ hese populations dominate my sample at 51 ­percent and 40 ­percent, respectively, although I did also interview a small number of Latino students (4 ­percent), Asian students (1 ­percent), and multi-­/biracial students (3 ­percent). About 67 ­percent of the students had at least one parent with a bachelor’s degree. Students ­were roughly equally divided among the dif­fer­ent achievement

162  •  Methodological Appendix

levels, with 37  ­percent classified as high-­achieving, 35  ­percent as moderate-­ achieving, and 28 ­percent as low-­achieving. I planned to follow a small sample of students over time, and initially just focused on se­nior year. I randomly chose four students at each school to interview twice (once in the fall and once the spring). A ­ fter t­ hose interviews, I was intrigued by how ­things changed for students and the way they interpreted and explained their final college decisions. This made me interested in gaining a long-­term perspective on students’ college application experiences, so I returned the next year and tried to reinterview the ju­niors I had interviewed the year before, who w ­ ere now se­niors. I was able to reinterview nineteen of them twice their se­nior year. Th ­ ese interviews with focal students over their ju­nior and se­nior years provided a deeper understanding of how students negotiated the application pro­cess in the face of vari­ous obstacles such as finances, information gaps, and an evolving admissions landscape. Four years l­ater, I received funding from the National Acad­emy of Education/Spencer Postdoctoral Fellowship and was able to follow up with the focal students now that they ­were out of high school. I was able to get in touch and reinterview eleven of the students ­either in person or via Skype. At each school I also interviewed the principal, vice-­principal and other administrators, e­ very school counselor (but one at Park City High School), and some counseling staff, such as interns or administrative assistants. I also talked with teachers at both schools, sometimes in more formal interviews and sometimes in extended conversations that occurred during observations. Most of the time I purposefully sought out teachers who I thought could shed light on some of the issues that emerged from student interviews (for example, I interviewed the lead teachers of both small learning communities at Park City High School), or who I thought would offer a new perspective (such as teachers who regularly taught se­niors). I also interviewed additional faculty or staff, such as coaches or security guards, who had relationships with students outside of the classroom. In total, I interviewed forty faculty and staff members across both high schools, twenty-­two at Park City High School, and eigh­teen at Evanstown High School. I also interviewed five college admissions counselors from four local colleges, two private college counselors and one college counselor who worked at a nonprofit. I found that college admissions officers and college counselors ­were quite receptive to talking with me. The only issue I had was finding the names of private college counselors who worked with Park City High School and Evanstown High School students, as many w ­ ere word-­of-­mouth businesses without formal websites. I ended up asking school counselors who gave me some names and I interviewed one whose name came up in multiple interviews. Interviews with adults unaffiliated with the schools added more dimension to the picture I was getting about students’ access to information and how they evaluated it.

Methodological Appendix • 163

Fi­nally, I also gathered some quantitative data. I had students fill out a short survey online about their college application experiences such as which college-­related events they attended and which schools they applied to. The schools also provided me with students’ GPAs, standardized test scores, and SAT scores.

Ethical Considerations When conducting field research, we frequently encounter difficult situations that have no easy answers. In discussing some of the issues I dealt with, I hope to help other researchers as they strug­gle with the same, or similar situations. One circumstance that I encountered a number of times was students asking me questions about the college application pro­cess. This would frequently happen when I asked them about tests such as the SATs, ACTs, and SAT IIs. Sometimes students did not know what they ­were. Other times, as we discussed the tests and I asked students about their scores, or what they hoped to score, students would not know or understand how the test was graded. Many times, students would turn my questions back on me and ask me what the highest score you could get was, or how it was scored. This brought up an impor­ tant issue for researchers—­assisting t­ hose we study as they encounter the challenges we want our research to address, and in ­doing so, potentially altering the data we need to collect so that we can address t­ hose issues on a larger scale. In t­ hese situations, I was particularly torn. The teacher in me wanted to provide students with the information they needed; however, the researcher was aware that in d­ oing so I was inserting myself into their college pro­cess in a way that affected the issues I was studying. In balancing this, another concern was maintaining trust and rapport with students. Feigning ignorance about t­ hings such as the SATs would seem disingenuous and I could not in good conscience tell a student I did not know how the SAT was scored or w ­ hether the college and ­career counselor would be able to help with a college essay. I deci­ded to answer students’ questions as best I could without g­ oing into too much detail and encourage them to seek out their counselor to get more assistance. I also tried to account for this when it could affect my data. This was particularly impor­tant when my questions about the resources available at the schools alerted students to something they did not know about. For example, at Evanstown I would ask ­every student if they had met with the college and ­career counselor. Soon, however, I found out that not ­every student knew such a counselor even existed. I then changed my question to first ask if they had heard of him, then if they had met with him. In my coding, I noted when students expressed confusion about or ignorance of the college and ­career counselor and then when I reinterviewed focal students the next year, I asked them how they had heard about the counselor, to try to ascertain the impact of my question on students’ knowledge.

164  •  Methodological Appendix

As I was writing, other ethical issues emerged as I worked to be true to students’ and adults’ voices and experiences, and also obscure their true identities. How much personal information was needed to describe key in­for­mants? I deci­ded that my respondents’ identities and their protection was a priority. I therefore changed personal characteristics about students that could identify them, such as sports or activities in which they participated. For adults at the school, I sometimes went a step further and changed physical descriptions or job titles. For ­these reasons, I usually do not indicate counselors’ or teachers’ race or ethnicity, ­unless it is critical to the analy­sis. I also deci­ded to for the most part change the names of the schools that students applied to and attended. I created pseudonyms for in-­state colleges to obscure the location of the schools. I also changed the names of colleges that students discussed to schools similar in size, location, and selectivity. I based selectivity levels on the 2015 Barron Competitiveness Index. This index uses six ­factors to determine how colleges are classified: median SAT and ACT scores for the 2013–2014 freshman class; percentage of 2013–2014 freshman scoring 500 and above and 600 or above on the critical reading, math, and writing sections of the SAT; percentage of 2013–2014 freshman scoring 21 and above and 27 and above on the ACT; percentage of 2013–2014 freshmen who ranked in the top 20  ­percent and top 40  ­percent of their high school graduating classes; minimum class rank and GPA required for admission (where applicable); and percentage of applicants in the 2013–2014 freshman class who w ­ ere accepted. See ­table 5. ­Table 5

Barron’s Competitiveness Index 2015 Class rank

1:24.12,2:25.29,3:25.30,4:25.30

Most competitive Highly competitive Very competitive+ Very competitive Competitive Less competitive Noncompetitive

Top 10–20% Top 20–35% Top 35–50% Top 35–50% Top 50–65% Top 65% Graduation from high school

Median freshman SAT scores

n

n

n

n

n

n

n

655–800 620–654 ≥610 573–619 500–572