(Welcome to Suburban Legends, an examination of the “truths” about college admission heard in the checkout line at the grocery store, in the stands at high school sporting events, and at any social gathering of parents with children about to apply to college. Unlike myths, Suburban Legends are plausible, and some may even be true. They are most likely to be believed by those who are educated and affluent, and they are always passed on by someone you trust but never happen to anyone you know.)
The college admission profession lost a legend several weeks ago. Bert Hudnall, who served multiple tenures as the Director of Admissions at Randolph-Macon Woman’s College (now Randolph) as well serving as a college counselor at Ashley Hall in Charleston and the head of school at Salem Academy in Winston-Salem and North Cross in Roanoke, passed away on March 19 at age 87.
Bert was an original–gracious, charming, funny, and the epitome of a Southern gentleman. He was a connector, known for his long, thoughtful letters to friends and former students, always filled with gentle humor and poignant wisdom. He had a gift for lifting up others. At a point in my professional life when I was still trying to figure out whether I belonged and whether I had anything worth saying, he remarked at a conference that he could listen to me and my co-presenter talk about anything. It meant a lot, but even more because he had been the conference’s keynote speaker. I was blessed to facetime with Bert when I visited with a protege of his in Maine last summer, and I subsequently emailed him to let him know that I had quoted him in a book chapter I was writing. That quote is one of the inspirations for this post.
“Colleges are looking for well-rounded students.” That is one of the original and most widely-believed Suburban Legends. Belief in that statement has driven generations of students to pursue a broad array of extracurricular activities in the name of well-roundedness, seen as a formula for college admission success.
The well-rounded student is unique, or at least rare, among Suburban Legends. Suburban Legends tend to be debatable at best and mythical at worst, but the emphasis on being well-rounded was at one point in history clearly true, but no longer. To help illustrate how that has happened, let us turn to an animated commercial spokesperson (or in this case, spokesfish) for assistance.
Back in the 1960s Starkist tuna ran a series of television commercials featuring a character (those of us attracted to bad puns might call him a car-tuna) named Charlie. Charlie was not your average tuna. He wore both glasses and a beret, and spoke with a Brooklyn accent. In each commercial Charlie tried to convince Starkist that he possessed good taste (just why he so wanted to get caught and packed into a can was never clear), and each ended with Charlie being told by his fish companion that Starkist doesn’t want tuna with good taste, but rather tuna that taste good. The commercials end with a note dropped on a hook that says simply, “Sorry, Charlie.”
If Charlie was not a cartoon commercial spokesfish but instead a student applying to Starkist University, he would similarly misunderstand what Starkist was looking for. His application would highlight not his “good taste,” but rather his “well-roundedness.” He would focus on his good grades, the fact that he plays both a sport and a musical instrument, his leadership in a club at school (perhaps even founding the club), and his community service. And his Starkist decision letter would likely be the same as the note on the hook at the end of each Starkist commercial, “Sorry, Charlie.” Highly selective/rejective colleges today don’t want student bodies full of well-rounded students, but rather a well-rounded class featuring students with “spike talents” in a number of areas.
That hasn’t always been the case. Fifty years ago being well-rounded was all the rage. The switch from admitting well-rounded individuals to admitting a well-rounded class is one of several evolutionary changes that have occurred in the college admission process over the past 100 years. Those changes were described in a book by sociologist Jerome Karabel, The Chosen, tracking the history of college admission at Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. It’s a fascinating, if dense, read, the kind of scholarly book with lots and lots of footnotes.
In the early part of the twentieth century, merit was defined as purely academic. Elite colleges were looking for the “best student,” and admission was based on academic prowess or preparation.
In the mid-1920s selective colleges moved to a different paradigm, looking for the “best graduate” rather than the best student. It was at that point that some of today’s admission conventions came about, things like essays, recommendation letters, and concern for extracurricular activities. Colleges became concerned with qualities like leadership, character, personal promise, and even personality, but those qualities reflected a definition of “manliness”--athleticism, a firm handshake, and an outgoing personality–that seems shallow today. Applying to college started to resemble applying to a private social club.
There is a legitimate debate about whether being well-rounded leads to success and happiness. Many independent schools continue to believe that producing well-rounded graduates is important, but Bert Hudnall questioned that assumption, pointing out that most adults aren’t well-rounded, that successful adults discover and pursue their unique talents and passions, seeking depth rather than breadth.
Whether or not being well-rounded makes you a better person, it no longer gets you into college. Today the well-rounded student is a Suburban Legend. In the 1970s and 80s, as elite colleges and universities received far more applications and became more competitive or admission, they moved to a third paradigm, the “best class.” Rather than admit a class of well-rounded students, they now seek to admit a well-rounded class, a class with “well-lopsided” individuals who bring a large variety of backgrounds, talents, and interests to the campus. Today you are admitted to a selective university because of what you contribute to the class rather than your individual merit.
Just as Charlie the tuna conflated having good taste with tasting good, Charlie the college applicant might confuse a class of well-rounded individuals with a well-rounded class. Today well-roundedness is still valued, but communally, not individually. Does that make for a better college community? I am not aware of any evidence for or against.
Jerome Karabel’s thesis in The Chosen is that the history of selective college admissions reflects changing definitions of merit, with a subtext of antisemitism. In particular, he argues that the switch away from the “best student” paradigm was because it produced student bodies with too many Jewish students. Karabel’s contentions are timely now given, depending on your point of view, the Trump administration’s attempts to reform or destroy higher education institutions. The government is calling for “merit-based” admission, and the stated rationale for investigations into particular universities has been alleged antisemitism.
I am skeptical of both claims. Is the current administration’s concern about merit and antisemitism genuine? There is no question that demonstrations on campuses following the Israeli incursion (or was it an excursion?) into Gaza following October 7 revealed an ugly undercurrent of antisemitism, an undercurrent that seems to be becoming mainstream in right-wing politics. There is also no question that universities didn’t handle campus unrest well. But that is very different from 100 years ago, when institutions changed their definition of merit and admission practices to diminish the number of Jewish students on campus.
As for the call for “merit” in admission and the demand for colleges to report admission data broken down by race, it seems based on a narrow definition of merit consisting of only grades and test scores, although compared to 100 years ago we understand that test scores are not “pure” measures of aptitude. It assumes that merit is easily measurable and that it is possible to rank students by merit. That reflects a deeper, faulty suspicion that “holistic admission” is really formulaic, with the formula needing to be unlocked.
The larger question here is whether merit is about breadth or depth. Well-roundedness argues for a definition of merit that is broad and shallow, with an individual dipping their toes into many puddles. That approach may be appropriate for children and teenagers trying to discover their unique talents and interests, but is it a desirable goal? Being too well-rounded requires diluting one’s time and focus in many directions. Try to tackle too many activities and you’ll be master of none.
But must the alternative to “well-rounded” be “poorly-rounded”? It is one thing to pursue depth and another to be single-minded. The argument for liberal arts education is to expose us to different disciplines and ways of seeing the world. We live in a time when young athletes and their parents are told by those profiting off youth sports that early specialization is necessary, but there is ample evidence that playing multiple sports improves physical skills and muscle development. Don’t we need that as well for the most important muscle of all, the brain? (We are fully aware that the brain isn’t technically considered a muscle, but the point is still valid.)
The fact that being well-rounded no longer gets you into college doesn’t mean it’s not valuable. Well-roundedness shouldn’t be a goal in itself, but rather a means to an end. Having two or three pursuits that you truly care about is more important than lots of activities that aren’t that meaningful, but trying different things helps us figure out what brings us joy and fulfillment.
I think colleges perpetuate the “well-rounded student” Suburban Legend by listing room for up to ten activities on the application. Too many students assume that it is necessary to fill up all the spaces. It’s not. Quality is more important than quantity, and the operative word is “authentic.” Don’t choose activities because you hope they will impress colleges. Choose activities that fulfill you and reflect your best, true self. If those don’t impress colleges, that’s probably a sign that a college is not the right fit.
Bert Hudnall understood, and modelled, that life should be well-lived. He also recognized that may or may not include being well-rounded.