The parent trap

We're in the throes of college application season these days. The 'Prince' has been chronicling the plight of several applicants, and at the Frist Welcome Desk where I work, scores of prospective students have appeared looking for the Orange Key tours.

At least I think the students have appeared. I see their parents. I assume the kids are around somewhere. But I get the feeling that in the college application process, the presence of an actual student is optional. Parents walk up to the desk. "We're applying to Princeton," they say with a royal "we" that makes me cringe. "My son is interested in the biology department. What can you tell him?" I wonder whom I should tell — the parent or the prospective student? Who is actually interested?

We have prospective students fill out a form for the tour records. The form doesn't help with admission — it just asks for the student's name, high school and interests. Most parents reach for the slip of paper, apparently unwilling to let their children write their own names.

Every year the college admission process gets crazier. I've read horror stories of parents who ask if 500 hours of community service are enough, of a man who took a year's sabbatical from his job to oversee his child's applications. I've heard of parents who fill out the applications themselves. There are stories of parents who put their children in the "right" pre-school so they'll be accepted into the "right" grade schools, high schools and finally, someday, Princeton. One hears of kids who participate in so many summer enrichment programs that they've never learned what it's like to hold a job. The kids are shuffled from activity to activity with the hope that, put together, the sports and music and volunteer hours will pad their applications enough to secure a coveted spot in someone's freshman class.

I have to believe — self-servingly, I suppose — that merit gets you a long way in the college application process. I also believe the people at the admission office are smart enough to recognize when an applicant is more glitter than substance, and that a summer spent waitressing can make you just as interesting a person as a summer spent studying calculus. But I know test-preparation instructors can raise your SAT scores and that if you're desperate enough, you can transfer to a better high school to help your chances. You can even hire professional consultants to retool your essays until they could make the short list for the Pulitzer.

So the admission officers should consider a factor often ignored, but just as important as scores, GPAs and extracurriculars — how much does the kid want to be here, and is he independent enough to have reached that conclusion on his own? Does he call or write the office for admission brochures and an application? Does he phone for details on visiting? When the family shows up, does the kid walk up to the desk to ask about the information session? Does he make the arrangements? Does he ask the questions? Bonus points: Does the kid write out the check for the application fee?

Most of the prospective family units I encounter consist of a 17-year-old clinging to his mother's skirt. But one day I saw an unaccompanied girl show up at the Welcome Desk. "I'm here for the tour," she said. Was she alone? Yes — she'd taken the train, made her own arrangements for a visit and was having a look around. As she bounded off with the guide, I thought, "Wow." We need more independent students like that. I hope she gets in. A Princeton education is too valuable to throw away on kids whose parents want it more than they do. Laura Vanderkam is a Wilson School major from Granger, Ind. She can be reached at laurav@princeton.edu.