“I’d be safe and warm if I was in L.A.”
California Dreaming, The Mamas and the Papas (1965)
Later this week, 7000-8000 of my closest friends will congregate in Los Angeles for the annual NACAC Conference. Going to NACAC has always been an important part of my fall, signifying the end of the opening month of school and the beginning of the deadline-to-deadline slog from October 15 to January 15 when college counseling and rec writing become real and consuming. Due to retirement, this is the first time in 40 years I haven’t faced that burden. I don’t think I’ll miss it.
My first NACAC conference was in 1978 in Miami Beach. I was a young admission rep, and there are a couple of things I remember. One is that many sessions were held outside around the pool, and dress was casual. As a result, when I attended my next NACAC twelve years later I packed nothing but shorts, and found myself dramatically underdressed for the occasion. The social was held at the Botanical Gardens, and on the bus I sat next to Joe Monte, having no clue that he was a legend in the profession who would become a close friend. A huge storm blew in and blew up the social.
Since 1990 I have missed fewer than a handful of conferences. The hardest was the 2001 conference in San Antonio, several weeks after 9/11. I was President of Potomac and Chesapeake ACAC, and one of my closest friends, Arlene Ingram, was a candidate for NACAC president-elect. But on a Sunday afternoon ten days before the conference, my two children announced that we needed to have a family conference and told me they didn’t want me to go. I stayed home, and it was the right call, but I regret not being there to support Arlene.
Sadly, I won’t be in L.A. this week, except in spirit. Six months ago I moved to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, looking forward to an idyllic combination of relaxation and time to devote to some writing projects. Less than a month later I received a phone call from my primary care physician telling me I needed to go to the emergency room immediately. After nearly ten days in the hospital, I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease. I seem to be responding to treatment, and the prognosis is good, but I spent a good part of the summer feeling pretty crappy, and it eventually became clear that I wouldn’t be ready to travel cross country or handle the rigors of the conference.
On Saturday I will be recognized as the 2024 recipient of NACAC’s John B. Muir Excellence in Media Award. I’m obviously grateful for and honored by the recognition, because writing about the intersection of ethics and college admission for the past twelve years has been perhaps the most rewarding part of my professional life. But I’m also a little embarrassed. I have been very fortunate to be recognized in various ways during my career–elected, published, quoted, and yes, subpoenad. I’m embarrassed because I know how many colleagues in the profession are doing the right thing every day in challenging times without support or affirmation. I thank them, I salute them, and I stand with them.
I hope that concern for ethical practices will always be at the heart of NACAC’s mission. Ethics reflect our ideals, how we should act, and it was a concern for ethical professional practices that led to NACAC’s founding.
Following the DOJ investigation, I sensed that NACAC felt like it needed to downplay ethics as its central tenet. I understand that, but think it’s a mistake. The real issue with the DOJ was about our ability to police ethical standards, not our ability to advocate for ethical behavior. We can certainly highlight best practices, and we can certainly call out colleagues who may be pushing ethical boundaries or are being pressured to do so. I hope that NACAC will always be a strong voice for ethical professional practice.
I will miss seeing all of you in L.A. this week, and I will find myself California Dreaming. What I will miss most is the conversations I have each year at the conference with readers of this blog, both old friends and those I have never met. Your devoted readership and kind words mean a lot.