It's time to end legacy admissions to college
Ben Franklin sculpture at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Credit: Universal Images Group via Getty/MyLoupe
I knew the words to "The Red and Blue" — and when and how to wave my arm when the band played the University of Pennsylvania's beloved song — by the time I was four. I learned early on to throw toast on the football field at exactly the right moment. I spent weekends sitting on the bench with a sculpture of Ben Franklin, exploring the beautiful campus and cheering in the best college basketball arena in the country.
My father was a Penn alum — Class of 1970. My aunt, uncle and several cousins graduated from Penn, too. The school was, in a way, in my blood.
That history opened my eyes to Penn as an option, but I chose it because it was the right fit. I applied early decision, which binds high school seniors to attending if they're accepted. To this day, I believe that choice was key to my acceptance — combined with my "legacy" status.
Don't get me wrong — I worked hard on that application. But would I have gotten into Penn without my father's status as a alum or my ability to make an early commitment?
I don't know.
At the time, I was thankful for any boost and didn't really consider the unintended consequences. I had a wonderful four years at Penn and loved sharing my college experience with my dad.
But in the decades since, my position on legacy admissions and the early-decision process has evolved. Both are concepts rooted in privilege and wealth, favoring children of white, upper-class families. These legs of a now-wobbly college admissions stool deserve to be sawed off.
For now, they're at least getting more scrutiny, especially in light of the Supreme Court decision that race-conscious admissions policies are unconstitutional.
That decision jump-started a broad, necessary conversation about the opaque college admissions process — a game where the rules are often unclear and winners are chosen behind closed doors. Practices like legacy and early-decision admissions are among the more egregious tools, giving a leg up only to those who've historically already had a better shot, especially at top schools that supposedly put students on a path toward "better" graduate schools and jobs.
I believe that even after my daughter applied to Penn last year through the regular decision process, only to be wait-listed. It wasn't one of her top choices, but even if it was, her admission shouldn't be based on where I went to school.
Early-decision applicants make up nearly half of Penn's freshman class. As of 2022, when data was last available, a quarter of those admitted via early decision were legacies. Even without the legacy component, early decision often excludes students who can't make an early commitment for familial, financial or other reasons. Early action — a nonbinding process — is the better way to go.
Undoing these practices won't be easy. The federal Department of Education's civil rights investigation into Harvard University's legacy admissions system is a good step. But when New York State lawmakers proposed a bill this year to ban legacy and early-decision admissions, it stalled. It's up to the universities themselves to recognize that the time for both concepts has come and gone, that legacy admissions is little more than a nod to wealthy alumni donors and that early decision remains stubbornly unfair.
All deserving students should have the chance to sing "The Red and Blue" — or the fight song of their choosing — whether or not their parents did.
Columnist Randi F. Marshall's opinions are her own.
Randi Marshall is a member of the Newsday editorial board.
