Crackonomics

On the whole, I'm sympathetic to DC Schools Chancelor Rhee's intiative to shutter 23 DCPS schools. It doesn't make sense for a district that's experiencing long-term enrollment decline, including losing almost 30 percent of students to charter schools, to waste millions of dollars on maintaining a bigger physical infrastructure than it needs. The chancellor and Mayor Fenty had a series of neighborhood meeting yesterday to discuss the planned closings, with many of the attendees voicing their displeasure. And I have to say, while I don't actually agree, this is pretty funny and astute:

"It's like crackhead economics," Jarumi Moore, a Francis Middle School seventh-grader, said at the Wilson Building of the closings plan. "They're thinking short term. We're thinking long term."

Get that kid into an AP econ class! He can write a study calculating the marginal change in the implied discount rate people apply to the resale value of their personal possessions when selling them feed a crack habit at various stages of addiction, and compare that to long-term deadweight loss of public goods resulting from ill-advised education policies that pump up approval ratings at the expense of systemic reform. He'll be the next Roland Fryer. Seriously, I don't think I would have had anything nearly so clever or smart to say in the 7th grade about anything not involving comic books or Larry Bird; there are a lot of bright kids like this in DCPS and we need to get them a better education.

Harvard and the Myth of Tightening College Admissions

The New York Times reports today that applications to Harvard are up an amazing 19% over last year, with other elite schools like the University of Chicago, Amherst, and Northwestern seeing double-digit increases. This allows newspapers to get a jump on the annual circulation-goosing college admissions panic story, which usually doesn't run for another few months, when the same colleges will report record low percentages of student being admitted. So we don't have to wait until April to read some guidance counselor from a suburban high school breathlessly reporting that among his peers "There is a pure level of panic and frenzy like they've never seen before."

As I wrote here last year, and also at the American Prospect, there is less here than meets the eye. The Times reports, correctly, that the number of graduating high school seniors is now reaching a demographic crest, the largest in history. But the year-over-year percentage growth is quite small, nothing close to the double-digit rise in applications to Harvard et al. Similarly, there's no reason to the think that the percent of high school seniors applying to college has risen sharply; those numbers never change much on an annual basis.

What we have, then, is not a big increase in college applicants but a big increase in college applications. Which the Times acknowledges, quoting one consultant as saying, "There was a time when kids applied to three or four schools, then to seven schools, and now, 10 or more is not uncommon." This creates the impression that the odds of a qualified student getting into a good college are dropping faster than they really are.

For example: the article notes that Harvard (as well as Princeton and UVA) has ended its early admissions program. So let's say you're a super-qualified student. You want to go to Harvard, and Harvard wants you to attend. Previously, you would have submitted one application, via early admission, and received one acceptance. Now you've got to go into the general application pool along with everyone else.

Do you still submit just one application? Of course not. Applying comes at relatively little cost in terms of time and money--particularly to you, who are probably from an upper-income family. There's a common application, stuff can be submitted electronically--it's all easier than it once was. So you apply to Princeton, Yale, and most of the other Ivy League schools, along with a few other usual suspects like Chicago, Amherst and the rest. Why not? Harvard's not a lock, after all, you might get bumped for a senator's son, rich legacy, football player, or what have you. A few months pass, and the envelopes arrive. Some of the schools accept you, others don't, but you get into Harvard, and happily enroll.

Q: Under this scenario, what impact has Harvard's elimination of early admission had on the odds of a qualified student getting into an elite school? A: None whatsoever. The number of applicants didn't change, the number of slots didn't change, and the result for the hypothetical you was exactly the same: Harvard. But from the perspective of typical news coverage, it looks like admissions got tighter, because all of those new applications you sent to elite schools drove the total number of applications up, and thus admissions rates down.

It's true that by applying and being accepted to those other schools, hypothetical you gained acceptances that would otherwise have gone to someone else. But you didn't use them, so eventually it all comes out in the wash. Selective colleges set very specific goals for the size of their freshman class, which they meet by statistically estimating the percent of accepted applicants who are likely to enroll. If they miss their guess high, they squeeze a few more people into the dorms. If they miss their guess low, they take a few more people off the waiting list. Either way, the number of individual students who are ultimately admitted doesn't change.

Also: this discussion pertains to qualified students, those with the credentials to have a legit shot at getting in. Some significant percentage of applicants--and thus, some percentage of the 19% increase in applicants at Harvard--are unqualified, submitted by students who are treating the college admissions process like Powerball and have no chance of being admitted. An increase in the number of applicantions from unqualified applicants has no practical effect on the admissions process at all for the qualified student--but it seems to, by driving down the bottom-line admit rate number.

This doesn't mean that the increasing-applications phenomenon has no impact on qualified students. If your competirors are submitting more applications, you need to as well, just like you need to keep up with taking AP classes and accumulating the other current markers of achievement. But in the end, you're still you, they're still them, Harvard is still Harvard, and things haven't gotten as bad as you think they have. When the media tells you to panic, don't.

Ask And You Shall Receive

Last week, I asked whether there were any colleges with unique strategies for controlling tuition and aiding students, but without the help of a gigantic endowment. Lo and behold, Inside HigherEd reports on Blackburn College, a small, private college in Illinois (chances are this school is off the NYT’s radar), that is trying to do something different with tuition and financial aid.

Blackburn College announced that it is both lowering tuition and getting out of the tuition haggling game. Basically, it’s lowering its sticker price by 15 percent but also going with a CarMax-type policy of not bargaining with parents over financial aid packages. A big plus to this new policy is that parents and students know the true cost of Blackburn, even before they apply. And this combination of lower tuition and lower spending on financial aid means that the school won’t be losing any tuition revenue, so the bottom line for the institution stays the same. But what about the bottom line for students?

Blackburn believes that the tuition--$15,000 with room and board—is affordable for low-income students, so long as the students get federal and state aid. If a student received a full Pell-grant and the full amount of Illinois’ need-based grant program the out-of-pocket cost for Blackburn would be approximately $6,000. Not bad, although that still means potentially graduating with over $20,000 in debt. And loans, while they are grouped with grants as part of an aid ‘package’, need to be paid back and aren’t nearly as good at facilitating access to college (CarMax doesn’t say it offers financial aid to buy a car). But loans are an excellent way to facilitate choice—students can opt for a private college instead of a public one, or a four-year instead of a two-year. But how can we know how much debt is too much debt?

The larger problem with financial aid policy is that there is no consensus over what the ‘right’ amount of debt for students is, or how much people should be expected to contribute to their own education. We need a goal—some strategic planning, if you will—for our financial aid system. Is the goal to help low-income students attend any college they like? To help them attend a public, four-year? A two-year? Or to facilitate choice in colleges among everyone, even those that are from upper-income families?

Until we answer these questions, our financial aid policies will always feel like a shot in the dark

Lede of the Day

"Free stuff makes people happy, but free stuff shot from cannons makes them jump and cheer like crazed monkeys."

From an Eric Hoover piece($) in The Chronicle of Higher Education, about a guy who owns a company that makes those portable CO2 cannons that launch rolled-up T-shirts in sports stadiums and arenas across the land.

Teaching Isn't Selling Sporting Goods...Or Anything Else

While we're on the subject of how teacher pay compares to other professions, another issue that often comes up in the debate is the fact that many teachers nominally work less than an eight-hour day, since the average school day is about 6.7 hours long. The usual rejoinder from the teacher perspective is that good teachers put a lot of time in before and after the school day, which is certainly true. The response to that is that lawyers and accountants and other professionals also do their share of work on nights and weekends. Then both sides start snarling at each other.

But what gets less talked about less is the way those hours are spent. I've worked in a variety of jobs since finishing grad school in the mid-90s, both in the public and non-profit sector, the basic components of which are pretty much the same: reading, writing, analyzing numbers, talking on the phone, sending email, going to meetings and events. Before that, stretching back to high school, I worked as a lifeguard, construction worker, department store cashier, waiter, sporting good salesman, camp counselor, etc. All different jobs.

But one thing they all have in common is that you're not actually working every minute of the day. For example, betwen the time I typed the words "the" and "words" in this sentence, I got up, poured a cup of coffee, chatted with a co-worker, and then spent another five minutes reading about how the Wizards somehow beat the Celtics again last night, in Boston no less. To the outside observer, I was working continuously, but actually it ebbs and flows, and this has been true on some level in every job I've ever had.

Spend some time in the classroom of a good teacher, by contrast, and you'll quickly notice that they're working the whole time. Not most of the time, but all of it. That's what it takes to succeed; you have to be constantly paying attention, planning, reacting, making decisions, keeping the whole intricate complex process on track. Somehow this needs to be taken into account in discussions of how much teachers work.

Pay for Performance: Chicken or Egg?

AFTie Ed responds to this post below on teacher pay:

My baseline position wasn’t “we’re not in this for the money, give us more money.” Instead it’s “we don’t have the option of being in it for the money, and trying to introduce that option without making the pie bigger isn’t a smart idea.” What I was trying to argue is that we don’t have in place one of the essential preconditions to having an effective variable pay structure: adequate base compensation...As a result, you get a system where people are being driven to a large extent by the intrinsic rewards of the work, and by the external rewards that come from a kind of cult of teacherdom. I don’t know if it’s chicken or egg, but uncompetitive pay is a factor keeping this dynamic in place.

There's an active argument going on about whether teachers are or aren't underpaid, involving lots of dueling statistics about benefit levels as a percent of salary, the number of hours worked in and out of school, which professions are fairly comparable to teaching, and whether or not a 9-month job with no vacation is really just 3/4ths of a 12-month job with vacation. But I don't think it's actually all that relevant to this discussion. I'm perfectly willing to concede that given stakes involved, and the amount of training, experience, and hard work required to do a good job teaching, public school teachers aren't paid enough, by a significant margin. And it's abundantly clear that individual teachers haven't proportionately shared in the overall growth of the economy over the last 30-plus years, in terms of salary.

That said, insisting that "adequate base compensation" be a prerequisite for pay for performance is, functionally, the equivalent of being against pay for peformance. Raising the total amount of money going to teachers salaries without changing the way teachers are paid would seem like--and to a large extent, would be--investing tens of billions of dollars in the same illogical system with nothing concrete in return. That's why NEA's call for a $40,000 base salary for all teachers, to take one example, is utter fantasy. You can say this is unjust, and you can be right, but that's the way it is. Policymakers have been blithely ignoring calls to substantially raise base tacher pay for decades now and will do it for decades more if nothing changes.

The best and most plausible strategy to increase total teacher pay, therefore, is not to raise the floor, but the ceiling--create a methodologically sound system for evaluating teacher effectiveness, in conjunction with labor, and then send the new money to the most effective teachers. Policymakers would go for that, really they would--instead of more $40,000 teachers, more $140,000 teachers. I know the "methodologically sound" part is tricky and subject to debate, but this is not an unsolveable problem. (Look for more from ES co-director Tom Toch on the subject of teacher evaluation soon).

I also note that class size reduction, heavily favored and promoted by teachers unions, is on some unavoidable level at odds with the adequate base compensation agenda. There's only so much money; every dollar spent on hiring more teachers is a dollar not spent on paying indiviudal teachers more.

The Wire, Season Five, Episode Two

I watched this episode On Demand in the middle of last week, and I have to say it was unsettling to listen to Saint Gus of the Newsroom talk about how life is always tough for Mother of Four, and then listen to characters lament that the only time Baltimore makes national news is when multiple bodies are discovered rotting in a rowhouse in the poor section of town, and then pick up the newspaper the next day and read about how, allegedly, a deranged, down-on-her-luck mother of four killed her daughters and left them to rot in a rowhouse in the poor section of town, which was soon covered on national news. DC the nation's capital is in the news every day, but DC the troubled, mid-sized mid-Atlantic city? Pretty much only with stuff like this.

Episode Summary: Bubbles is troubled. McNulty staggers up to the edge of the deep end, peers over, takes a swig of Jameson, and jumps off. With the investigation down, Marlo quickly resumes having everyone and their mother killed, up to and including that guy who the other guy said looked at him funny back in '93. He's also trying to cut out the middleman on the package and go straight to the Greek, which leads him to...Avon! Hey, Avon. He looks just like he should, the same but more weary, fronting as best he can. It's funny how the universe of Baltimore murderer / drug dealers sort of arranges itself on a purely relative scale--Marlo is such a dead-eyed sociopath that by comparison Avon seems somewhat reasonable, Prop Joe is Santa Claus, and Omar is an avenging angel. Or he would be, if he actually made his way on screen.

Saint Gus, meanwhile, has to deal with his very own Jayson Blair, who can't even squeeze a decent human-interest story out of opening day at Camden Yards. (Aside: It always seemed strange to me that the Jack Kelly fabrication scandal at USA Today received far less attention than the Blair affair, even though Kelly's fabrications were arguably much worse. Relative standing of the papers, I suppose.) Gus' boss, meanwhile, wants to run a prize-bait expose of the school system, one of those series that kicks off Sunday morning with a little box showing the chapters to come (Monday: "Everything is Bad." Tuesday: "Then it Gets Worse"), with each story jumping from page one to a full two-page spread that you feel vaguely guilty for not reading. Gus argues that, sure, the school system is terrible, but so are lots of other things, and shouldn't we tell the real story, the whole story? Or something like that. The Bad Editor says no, we need to dumb it down so people can understand.

Now, I have no doubt that conversations like this happen all the time, complete with facile use of the word "dickensian" and all the rest. But what David Simon Saint Gus seems to be arguing is that anything other than digging deep and exposing the entire underlying system, complete with all the connections and moving parts, is a moral failure and a lie. In other words, the only truly responsible journalistic treatment of Baltimore is...The Wire. Really? I think I disagree. The best treatment, maybe, but that's a helluva high bar. It takes, what, seven years and tens of millions of dollars? What happens in the meantime? If you can pick off a piece of the problem, expose it, and do something about it, what's the argument against that? Or are the children of Baltimore doomed until the revolution comes?