College Crunch

 

Even A students have to settle for their B-list schools as the swelling ranks of

boomer kids jockey for limited spots on campus.

 

By Linda Shrieves

Orlando Sentinel Staff Writer

 

May 1, 2004

 

Mia Rommel believed -- or at least strongly hoped -- she had everything

Georgetown University wanted.

 

There was her SAT score of 1,350 and a 3.7 grade-pointaverage at Trinity

Preparatory School, known for its rigorous academics. A long list of

extracurricular activities, including stints as editor of the yearbook and the

school's literary magazine, and as captain of the forensic debate and speech

team. A three-page resume and a raft of recommendation letters.

 

She also had a case of nerves -- because spring is the time when colleges

traditionally send their acceptance and rejection letters.

 

Today, exploding enrollments are making it tougher than ever for students to get

into college, leaving many dreading the daily trek to the mailbox. With so many

high-achievers to choose from, most colleges are growing more selective -- and

students who would have been a cinch for admission a decade ago are falling back

on their second- and third-choice schools.

 

Making the wait this spring even more agonizing for Mia was a letter she

received from Georgetown in mid-December, telling her she had been "wait

listed," which describes the kind of senior-year purgatory students would wish

only on their worst high-school rivals.

 

"Your friends who do get in early admission are planning what dorm they're going

to be living in," says Mia, 18, who began visiting colleges in eighth grade.

"They're starting to plan their future, and you're still stuck in the

high-school grind, thinking about how much work you still have to do the second

semester so that your grades will look even better."

 

So, like thousands of high-school seniors around the country, Mia anxiously

checked the mailbox every day at her Oviedo home, waiting for a follow-up letter

from Georgetown. Although she applied to five other universities, Mia held out

hope for Georgetown, writing weekly letters to admissions officers, updating

them on her latest accomplishments.

 

Lifelong competition

 

Mia is part of the "echo boom," a demographic bulge that consists of the

children of baby boomers. For the echo group -- which will top out with the

class of 2009, the largest graduating class in the nation's history -- the

competition to get into college is just the beginning.

 

"These are students who, if they weren't in this generation, would have colleges

eager to take them," says Patrick Callan, president of The National Center for

Public Policy and Higher Education. "They're having to pick their second and

third choices for college. But they're also going to have to compete throughout

their lives for jobs, for promotions."

 

Larger than the baby boom itself, the echo boom is also playing out regionally

in terms of education. High schools, community colleges and four-year colleges

in Sun Belt states, such as Texas and Florida, are jammed, as are those in

California and in a regional arc that stretches from Florida to Virginia.

Meanwhile, colleges in the upper Midwest, where steady migration to the Sun Belt

has eroded the boomlet effect, are looking south to recruit students.

 

At the nation's elite colleges and at Sun Belt schools such as the University of

Florida and the University of Texas, the competition is intense.

 

It has pushed out prospective students such as Stephanie Cohen, 17, of Altamonte

Springs.

 

With her 4.1-weighted GPA and a 1,260 SAT, Stephanie qualified for a Bright

Futures scholarship. That was an incentive for her to stay in state, so she

applied to UF and the University of Central Florida.

 

UCF wanted her. A few months later, she learned she didn't get into UF.

 

"I was disappointed, but I had a little bit of a feeling that I wasn't going to

make it," says Stephanie, who thinks she may have been turned down because she

listed only two extracurricular activities: the National Honor Society and a

marketing club. "I knew their qualifications had been going up every year."

 

Stephanie is happy to be attending UCF, where she will live on campus. Besides,

she'll see a lot of familiar faces: Many classmates from Lyman High are going

there too.

 

Staff needs pep talk

 

At college and university admissions offices, breaking the bad news is never

easy.

 

At the University of Florida, Bill Kolb, admissions director, holds an annual

"pep talk" to prep his staff for the rejection season.

 

When parents call, "all you can do is let them vent because Johnny is a good

student. We're turning away lots of students who could be academically

successful here," Kolb says. "I tell my staff, 'Hey they're just being good moms

and dads. They want the best for their kids.' "

 

They're getting used to bearing bad news, however. In 1995, Florida's high

schools graduated 99,941 students. The class of 2004 has 143,000 seniors. In 10

years, officials project there will be 161,000 high-school seniors applying for

a limited number of spots on campus.

 

Fat means 'yes'

 

Though many of her classmates applied to Florida state universities, Mia Rommel,

who'd spent the first 13 years of her life in Texas, did not. Instead, she

applied to six universities -- including "safety schools" such as University of

Iowa and University of Texas.

 

The news trickled in slowly. Iowa accepted her; Texas, which is jammed with its

own population explosion, did not.

 

Then, on March 25, she opened the mailbox and discovered a thin letter from

Georgetown. "We have reviewed your application carefully, and we have decided

not to offer you admission, " it read.

 

"I was not as upset as I thought I'd be," Mia says.

 

A few weeks later, she and her mother opened the mailbox and discovered a fat

envelope from George Washington University in the nation's capital.

 

Fat means yes. Mia cried tears of joy and tore open the envelope.

 

"It was like peeling an onion," says Beth Rommel, Mia's mother. Each page bore

better news. The university offered Mia a spot in its honors program, and a

$15,000 scholarship.

 

"GW was my second choice," says Mia, "and the more I thought about it, the more

I felt I belonged there."

 

Mia's still burning a little about Georgetown, but says she'll survive.

 

"Technically, I was the perfect candidate" for Georgetown, Mia says. "For

whatever reason, 12 letters did not make it clear."

 

However, as many students have learned, rejection can have a positive side.

 

Amherst College's dean of admissions once wrote to a student, "May we remind you

that no one has yet perfected the art of human assessment and that you can prove

by your own achievements in the years ahead how very shortsighted our committee

was."

 

Linda Shrieves can be reached at lshrieves@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-5433.