Cecile’s experience echoes mine precisely, except that my patience ran out long before hers did. My students were from Maryland’s Eastern Shore (also a backwater from Princeton’s perspective). I had only one interviewee who was admitted — and she was almost a parody of the modern successful PU applicant, right down to the 20-page illustrated resume/life history that she proffered (and she went elsewhere). I still remember my two lowest points. One was meeting a sterling young woman who had raced to our appointment after driving from her grandmother’s funeral out of state. She was emotionally devastated. I took off my interviewer’s hat and just sat in conversation with her. But I felt terribly guilty that she was giving this moment in her life to a likely meaningless interview.
The second experience came when an applicant, whose parents were immigrants, requested that our conversation take place at his home. When I arrived he and his father greeted me, and the father implored me to have some of the food he had set out and hovered nearby with barely concealed hope and anxiety. I knew within five minutes that the student would never be admitted. Was I proud to be an “ambassador” from Princeton at that moment? No.
It’s not just that alumni time could be better used elsewhere, it’s that the admissions office seems not to understand that for tens of thousands of applicants the experience is stressful, takes precious time to prepare for, and fosters the impression that being interviewed indicates real interest on Princeton’s part. As I indicated in my own letter in this group, I’d be happy to interview on the medical school model. If the admissions office would narrow the field to the strongest candidates (which they have to do anyway!) then the interviews collectively would mean something. As it is, this is a Princeton tradition that makes less and less sense the larger the number of applicants grows.