Cover Story

THE COLLEGE GAME

Low-income and minority students often lack basic supports when getting ready for college. Read on for innovative ways NEA members are helping kids navigate the system—and how you can too.

By Cynthia Kopkowski

It's a little after 7 a.m. and most Southwest High School students are shaking off the night's sleep, blearily brushing their teeth or pulling on T-shirts. Gray light and a cool fog add to the morning stupor of Nestor, California, located seconds from the U.S.-Mexican border. But in Helene Matthews' brightly lit classroom (pictured left), 30 juniors and seniors are already chiming into a class discussion about preparing for college. They're brainstorming about the characteristics they'll need for the final years of a rigorous college-prep curriculum.

They sit 2,530 miles from Florida State University. The University of North Carolina is 2,190 miles away. But, for these mostly Hispanic, low-income students, both schools might as well be on the moon.

These students aren't in Matthews' college admission prep class an hour before school starts because getting into college will be easy. They're here because for many minority and low-income students, no matter how smart, talented, or ambitious, getting into college can be a capricious and arduous game—and they're often at the losing end.

"I'm not doing any favors by letting them slide" through high school, Matthews says. "I don't allow students to wimp out."

At the nation's four-year colleges, Blacks and Hispanics make up only 17 percent of the undergraduate population even though they represent 31 percent of the national college-age population, according to the National Association of College Admission Counseling. At those same institutions, low-income students enroll at half the rate of similarly qualified high-income peers, according to a congressional committee studying student financial aid.

They are disturbing numbers made even worse when you put faces on them. Take Robert Pillars (pictured right), 17, a Southwest High student enrolled in three Advanced Placement classes, who plays football, runs track, and dreams of attending Florida State. Sure, he sounds like a shoo-in—but the odds are against him.

"It's not 'How much can I afford to pay?' It's that I can't pay anything," he says.

And yet, the problems aren't insurmountable. Just as the K–12 achievement gap concerns all educators and closing it is a key NEA initiative, so too is tackling the gap in college admissions rates. As Matthews says, looking at her students huddled in work groups around the room that morning, "this is our future sitting here in this classroom."

"A city, a state, a nation begins with these individual students," says Southwest High teacher Pablo Roncoroni (pictured left), who works with low-income and minority students trying to get into college. "What's going to happen when there are high levels of unemployment, crime, and everything else because these students aren't going to college? If they are educated, it's going to improve all levels of society."

Also, there's the matter of money. Specifically, your money. More college graduates means a more robust economy. A student who leaves college with a bachelor's degree earns about $51,000 each year, according to a 2005 U.S. Census survey. Comparatively, someone holding only a high school diploma earns $28,000. Unemployment among college grads is less than half that of those with no college experience. A college graduate is less likely to need government assistance, and at the same time he or she contributes more to pay for these programs. That means you've got a fellow citizen boosting the nation's resources, not putting more demands on your paycheck.

There's another key way that college graduates help educators. They're more likely to vote. Imagine the possibilities if more of your students left high school for a successful college career, then hit the voting booth to weigh in on candidates who support public education.

Hurdles to College

For some teens, rules for the college admissions game are fairly simple: Get good grades in college prep classes, score well on the SATs or ACTs, round out your application package with extracurricular activities and glowing recommendation letters, and be prepared to pay a bill that will range from $2,000 to $27,516 depending on where you're headed.

But myriad obstacles can clutter the path from high school to the front gate of a college campus for poor and minority students. They can be massive, say several thousand dollar tuition deficits and lackluster high school courseloads. Or they can be small—a deadline for one application form overlooked by a student working to support his family—but just as fatal to a student's chance of getting into a good college.

Take Precious Barnes (pictured right), a Charlotte, North Carolina, student who is Black and poor.

Not low-income; no income. Her mother died when Precious was seven and she never knew her father. A string of temporary caretakers and the couple that became her guardians as she entered 10th grade couldn't provide money for college.

"While everyone else was going out, having fun, I was worrying about how I was going to get into college. Then, 'How am I going to pay for college?'" Barnes says.

Poor students don't have the same access to college Web sites, online SAT and ACT schedules, or federal aid and scholarship applications as their peers with home computers. Sure, there might be a computer at the local library, but if they don't have transportation, or if they have to work to bring home money to their family and don't have time to go, it doesn't help.

"Our kids can't afford $180 for an SAT prep course or private consultants," says Southwest High guidance counselor Margarita Padilla (pictured right), who alone advises 400 students each year—one-fifth of the entire school. "And with it getting more competitive at [area universities], they're having to compete with the kids who can pay to help boost their scores."

While many students' parents may want their children to go to college, not all understand what that entails.

"So many of our parents have not been to college themselves," says teacher Erin McVadon Albright of Annandale High School in Annandale, Virginia (pictured left), "and a lot of them don't realize college admission requirements are not the same as high school graduation."

At teacher Bruce Rekstad's Washington High School in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, many of the 2,000 students are low-income American Indians. College is not their priority or even expectation.

"There are so many issues as far as the home life, just getting the students to come to school is our focus," Rekstad, a Native American studies teacher, says.

Teachers broach life after high school, talking about the importance of moving from Washington High to higher education, be it a two- or four-year college or trade study at the nearby vocational college. Their goal this year: get parents more involved in their children's high school education—currently a challenge in a community where alcoholism and unemployment are twin cancers—with the goal of boosting interest in higher education.

"If we can get the parental support, we believe we'll have a better chance of getting these kids on to college," says Rekstad. "We're showing them that if their children want to help their people, which a lot of them say they do, going to college is an excellent way to do it."

At Hunters Lane High School in Nashville, Tennessee, guidance counselor Jamye Merritt (pictured right) sees students every day who should continue their education after high school, but simply can't because of poverty's gnawing demands.

She says that one of her students, with his aptitude for auto repair, could have easily excelled at a two-year or vocational college.

"He said 'I'm having to pay half the bills at home now,'" Merritt says. "He lived with his father and his father was treating him as a roommate. I would have liked to [see him] really further his education in some manner, but he just wasn't available."

The Cost Just Went Up

While the burden on some students to provide necessary income for their families is growing, so too are the costs of college.

At four-year public institutions last year, tuition and fees jumped nearly 11 percent, according to The College Board, which tracks college expenses annually. It cost the average student $12,000 to attend the local state college for the year. That's half the annual earnings for a low-income family.

"I help the students with their [Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA)] and they have $12,000 coming in to a household of five people," says Matthews. "Thirty thousand for college is like, completely out of their minds."

Two-year public institutions saw a nearly 9 percent tuition hike last year. Students at four-year private institutions paid 6 percent more than the year before.

Potential changes on the political horizon are troubling. Students' financial aid application process is already muddled by mountains of application forms, ambiguous instructions, and ever-changing award amounts. Lawmakers' tinkering with the Higher Education Act this year could mean even fewer benefits for applicants who manage to navigate the maze. (See "Playing Funny With the Money,")

Playing To Win

Despite these barriers, many minority and low-income students are finding their way to campus—with help from their schools. At Southwest High School, 90 percent of students are minorities, 45 percent of the students are English-language learners, and most fall below the poverty line. In one class during the first week of school, a teacher must explain to Spanish-speaking freshmen in their native tongue how to move chairs into a circle for group work. On those days, college seems unimaginable.

But last year, 56 percent of the senior class at Southwest High enrolled at a two-year college and another 25 percent made it into a four-year college. It wasn't a fluke.

In 1985, the school became one of the first in the country to offer the Advancement Via Individual Determination, or AVID, program, which helps low-income, minority students prepare for college. Created in 1980 by NEA member Mary Catherine Swanson, a former San Diego teacher, the program focuses on students whose parents did not attend college and who would otherwise be ill-prepared for life on campus.

Teachers and guidance counselors select students who, along with their parents, sign a contract pledging effort.

Students learn everything from the self-confident attitude they'll need to succeed in a demanding college environment to the note-taking and study skills. Teachers hold tutoring sessions for classes and the SAT. They take students on college visits to familiarize them with the environment, and they remind them of crucial deadlines. During the first week of school, teachers remind students so often of an impending SAT application date that it becomes something of a mantra, which students dutifully repeat when prompted.

"We do everything but come the morning of the test and pick them up," jokes Matthews.

Nearly 200 of the 2,000 students at Southwest High are enrolled in the program there, joining those at nearly 1,000 schools nationwide. Students in grades 9–12 take the AVID courses taught by Matthews, Roncoroni, and freshman and sophomore AVID teacher Anna Segednicev (pictured left), who pepper each day's lessons with encouragement.

"It's not too early to start thinking about the things you need to have for college," Segednicev tells her students, some of whom have been in high school for a grand total of three days. "I know that everyone here in this classroom can go to college."

Segednicev knows what she's talking about. She was a low-income, minority student getting D's and F's at Southwest High when a teacher steered her to the program. Segednicev went on to graduate from San Diego State University.

All AVID students must enroll in an extracurricular activity. And AVID teachers keep an eye out for juniors and seniors whose schedules contain "soft" courses, which they may not realize hurt their chances with college admissions officers.

"If a counselor tries to enroll them in underwater basketweaving, we say 'No way,'" Matthews says.

In California, it's working. Eighty-four percent of AVID students complete college, according to an independent audit of the program by the Palo Alto Center for Research and Evaluation in Education.

Expect Success

Teachers around the country certainly want to see their students experience similar success. The ramifications of poor and minority students being locked out of college gates are too troubling. They often wonder, though, how to increase their students' chances in the college admissions game.

Above all else, push them academically, say those whose students are beating the odds. Navigate them toward college prep coursework such as Advanced Placement and International Baccalaureate, rather than let them stay in classes where they can more easily pull down passing grades.

"We purposely err on the side of putting kids into the classes who might not be able to handle it," says Albright of Annandale High. "We really work at dispelling the stereotypes about what an advanced student is supposed to look like. You cannot tell how capable a student is by where the waistband on their pants is."

Concentrated, well-executed college preparation is crucial.

"We need to tell and show these kids really specifically what colleges expect of them if they want to get in," says Albright. "We can't just say 'Do your best and study.'"

Experts agree.

"Academic preparation is critical to success in college," says David Baime, vice-president of governmental relations for the American Association of Community Colleges.

Several recent studies show that's not necessarily what's happening in high schools. In a poll this summer of 80,000 students in 19 states, nearly three-fifths of students said their classes were regular, grade-level courses, rather than college-prep or college level.

At Albright's school, teachers prepare students for the rigorous year ahead by leading them through the IB Summer Institute. Not all students are introduced to the demands of advanced courses in elementary or middle school gifted and talented classes, says Albright, especially poor and minority children. When uninitiated students get to college prep classes, they can lag academically or behave inappropriately, setting themselves up for a downward spiral. The summer institute aims to help them reap the benefit of being there right from the start.

Also, Albright and her fellow teachers stress the importance of students taking "five solids" every year: English, math, social studies, foreign language, and science.

But even in pushing their students to take on advanced courses, teachers must be attuned to the financial pressures low-income students face.

Help Them Save

Andy Boyd, a teacher at Evergreen High School in Vancouver, Washington, wanted all of his 15 Advanced Placement Environmental Science students to take the corresponding AP exam in the spring. He knew that success on the test would boost their college admissions chances. He discovered a few weeks into the year, however, that many of his students couldn't afford the $82 fee for the test.

"You have to have that structure and support system in place," says Boyd. "When they start getting down looking at the financial costs of room and board, they can get frustrated. You have to show them that this is doable."

Educators have plenty of other ways they can prepare their students mentally for college. One expert advises simply wearing your college sweatshirt and talking about your time there to make it tangible for students.

Don't assume that your freshmen and sophomores are too young to get ready. At Southwest High, Roncoroni's freshmen practice SAT questions and filling out financial aid forms "to give them an idea of what's coming down the pike."

Precious Barnes says her educators and guardians are the reason she muscled past the academic and financial hurdles.

"Other kids would say 'Yeah, I want to go to this school or get that scholarship,' and then they would just wait and let the deadline pass," says Barnes.

This fall she became part of the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill's freshman class. As one of a small group of students in a new program targeting poverty and underrepresented minorities—a program her guidance counselor heard about and advised her of—she will pay nothing for tuition, books, housing, or any other expenses.

"It was tiring," Barnes says of her struggle to get from high school, overcoming a tragic past, to UNC's campus. "But as far as feeling intimidated, I don't think I will be when I get there. I belong there, and I think I'll do fine."

Great recommendation? Skip ahead!

The difference between your students getting into a state university or a state of inertia could come down to your recommendation letter.

As college admissions have become feverishly competitive, especially at the few dozen colleges that every straight-A student wants to attend, the recommendation letter has become an increasingly important slip of paper. When it seems like every brainiac helps out at Habitat for Humanity and rakes in 2200 on the SAT, your recommendation can distinguish the best and help seal a thick envelope.

The question is, how to write a letter that catches the eye of admissions officers? At Harvard University, a committee will read about 23,000 recommendation letters this fall—and that's just for the early-decision applicants. They rate each letter on a scale of 1 to 6, and their own studies have shown that students with the best letters are more likely to be admitted.

With that in mind, New Jersey teacher Sharon Stokes is serious about her letter-writing duty. With 20 to 25 recommendations to write each year, and 99.4 percent of Haddonfield Memorial High School's students heading to four-year colleges, she needs to be. She's also good at it because she follows two guidelines. Be brief—one page at the most—and also very specific about the attributes of the student.

"Most of the time, when I'm really proud of a recommendation, I've clued in right away to that one personality trait that's going to make them a great college student," says Stokes. "I'm doing one now for a girl who is not an A student and never will be, but she never gives up. She'll always raise her hand to answer my questions and, if she doesn't get it right, she'll listen to the kid who does have it right."

Writing an effective recommendation letter can take hours—and during the high season, an oft-requested teacher can spend as much time at her laptop as a football coach on the field. But there's no cash stipend for this duty, and usually not a lot of sympathy from administrators or parents who often consider it part of the job. In Ohio and Wisconsin, teachers brought light to the issue when some ceased their extra-hours letter writing during tense contract negotiations.

To make it easier on themselves, some of your colleagues, like Kevin Kelly at Lexington (Massachusetts) High School, warn students to request their favors in the spring of their junior year. With advance warning, he can draft them during the summer.

Stokes also requires a little help from students. Weeks, even months, before she pens the first "H" for her "Highly recommended" Latin students, she asks them to write something for her: a paragraph explaining why they want her to write that particular recommendation.

The Derek Bok Center for Teaching and Learning at Harvard University also has a few tips for letter-writing teachers:

tell the Student how strong a letter you feel you can honestly write for them, and give them a chance to ask somebody else. At Lexington High, Kelly warns his math students: Do not ask if you've ever cheated in my class. Some still try!

Like Stokes, ask for information from the student, including having them create a résumé and give you copies of work done in courses.

Use SCHOOL letterhead that matches your relationship with the student, not your personal stash.

Rely on YOUR eyewitness accounts of the student's performance and support generalizations with specific details or anecdotes. "Help the reader to imagine the student as you describe them."

And, keep copies!

—Mary Ellen Flannery

Photos: Dave Gatley, Ryan McVay, Sandy Schaeffer, Dan Loftin, PhotoDisc, and Jerry Wolford