A somewhat more important consequence of Reed's rebellious stance is the freedom from temptation to game the ratings formula (or, assuming that we would resist that temptation, from the nagging suspicion that we were competing in a rigged competition). Since the mid-1990s numerous stories in the popular press have documented how various schools distort their standard operating procedures, creatively interpret survey instructions, or boldly misreport information in order to raise their rankings. Such practices have included failing to report low SAT scores from foreign students, "legacies," recruited athletes, or members of other "special admission" categories; exaggerating per capita instructional expenditures by misclassifying expenses for athletics, faculty research, and auxiliary enterprises; artificially driving up the number of applicants by counting as a completed application the first step of a "two-part" application process; and inflating the yield rate by rejecting or wait-listing the highest achievers in the applicant pool (who are least likely to come if admitted). Rumors of these practices and many others like them were rampant in education circles in the early years of formulaic ranking. I was struck, however, in reading a recent New York Times article, by how the art of gaming has evolved in my former world of legal education, where ranking pressure is particularly intense. The Times reported that some law schools inflate their graduate-employment rates by hiring unemployed graduates for "short-term legal research positions." Some law schools have found that they can raise their "student selectivity" (based in part on LSAT scores and GPAs for entering students) by admitting fewer full-time first-year students and more part-time and transfer students (two categories for which data do not have to be reported). At least one creative law school reportedly inflated its "expenditures per student" by using an imputed "fair market value," rather than the actual rate, to calculate the cost of computerized research services (provided by LexisNexis and Westlaw). The "fair market value" (which a law firm would have paid) differed from what the law school actually paid (at the providers' educational rate) by a factor of eighty!
Gaming the peer evaluations is harder, but some survey responders are not above "dumping" their schools' closest peers into the bottom tier so as to undermine the competition. Perhaps the most common tactic is simple self-promotion. When I was a law-school dean, my mailbox would begin to fill up about a month before U.S. News's annual "beauty contest" questionnaire arrived—with glossy admissions brochures, alumni magazines, lists of faculty publications, and breathless announcements of new buildings and academic symposia, all accompanied by bland cover letters from my counterparts expressing the thought that I might find the enclosures interesting and illuminating. In my ten years as dean I only once received a cover letter that came right out and said what every other letter wanted to say: "When the U.S. News opinion survey comes out next week, please keep our law school in mind."
By far the most important consequence of sitting out the rankings game, however, is the freedom to pursue our own educational philosophy, not that of some newsmagazine. Consider, for example, the relative importance of standardized tests. The SAT or ACT scores of entering freshmen make up half of the important "student selectivity" score in the U.S. News formula. Although we at Reed find SAT and ACT scores useful, they receive a good deal less weight in our admissions process. We have found that high school performance (which we measure by a complex formula that weighs GPA, class rank, quality and difficulty of courses, quality of the high school, counselor evaluation, and so forth) is a much better predictor of performance at Reed. Likewise, we have found that the quality of a student's application essay and other "soft variables," such as character, involvement, and intellectual curiosity, are just as important as the "hard variables" that provide the sole basis for the U.S. News rankings. We are free to admit the students we think will thrive at Reed and contribute to its intellectual atmosphere, rather than those we think will elevate our standing on U.S. News's list.
U.S. News also gives very substantial weight (25 percent of its overall formula) to student-retention and graduation rates. But it is far from clear that high student retention is the unmixed blessing implied by that formula. Rewarding high retention and graduation rates encourages schools to focus on pleasing students rather than on pushing them. Pleasing students can mean superb educational programs precisely tailored to their needs; but it can also mean dumbing down graduation requirements, lessening educational rigor, inflating grades, and emphasizing nonacademic amenities. At Reed we have felt free to pursue an educational philosophy that maintains rigor and structure—including a strong core curriculum in the humanities, extensive distribution requirements, a junior qualifying examination in one's major, a required senior thesis, uninflated grades (not reported to students unless they request them), heavy workloads, and graduate-level standards in many courses. We have also felt free to resist pressure to provide an expensive and highly selective program of varsity athletics and other nonacademic enticements simply for their marketing advantages. Not surprisingly, our attrition rates, though declining steadily, are higher than those at the highest-ranked schools.
As a rankings holdout Reed is free to appoint talented young teacher-scholars, even if they are still completing their dissertations, without worrying about impairing the college's "proportion of professors with the highest degree in their fields" (a significant component of the U.S. News "faculty resources" index). We are also free to set academic policy without worrying about optimizing a "class size" ranking. (U.S. News gives positive weight to the percentage of classes with fewer than twenty students, and negative weight to the percentage with more than fifty.) Reed's average class size is, to be sure, very small (just below fourteen), reflecting agreement with the educational philosophy implicit in the U.S. News formula. But unlike many of our rankings-sensitive peers, we feel no pressure to use part-time adjunct faculty or teaching assistants as an inexpensive but educationally dubious technique for even further increasing the percentage of small classes. Conversely, we can embrace the educational benefits of combining large lectures with small laboratory sessions in some disciplines.
W hat lesson can be derived from the fact that Reed continues to thrive despite its refusal to cooperate with the U.S. News rankings? Some of my peers speculate that Reed's success has little application to their schools. Only a college as iconoclastic and distinctive as Reed, they argue, could pursue such a strategy and survive. I disagree. To me, our success says something important about the market for higher education as well as about Reed College. Participants in the higher-education marketplace are still looking primarily for academic integrity and quality, not the superficial prestige conferred by commercial rankings. They understand that higher education is not a mass-produced commodity but an artisan-produced, interactive, and individually tailored service of remarkable complexity. Trying to rank institutions of higher education is a little like trying to rank religions or philosophies. The entire enterprise is flawed, not only in detail but also in conception. This is not to say that schools should not be held accountable. Like its peers, Reed submits reams of data to the National Center for Education Statistics, to our accrediting agency, and
Before I came to Reed, I thought I understood two things about college rankings: that they were terrible, and that they were irresistible. I have since learned that I was wrong about one of them.