Distinctive

By Adam Muri-Rosenthal, Ph.D.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with the concept of “value.” Maybe it’s because I work in a field where people often mistake appearances for substance, or because I’ve seen too many students directly equate cost (or worse, college ranking) with quality. Nowhere is that more visible than in the world of pay-to-play summer programs. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me whether attending a summer program at Harvard would improve their child’s chances of getting into Harvard…. I could probably pay for one of those programs myself.

So let’s talk about them. The pay-to-play summer programs. The resume-polishing, multi-thousand-dollar experiences often located on the campuses of prestigious universities that promise high schoolers a glimpse into the collegiate world—and that parents often believe (or are told) will open admissions doors.

Let’s not be glib. Many of these programs are beautifully run and staffed by caring educators. Many offer academic rigor, stimulating conversations, and friendships that last years. But here’s what they are not: they are not (typically) exclusive or elite—not even those run by elite universities. And (with some exceptions), they are not, in and of themselves, a ticket to admission at the universities that host them. (Spoiler: the admissions offices usually have nothing to do with them.)

If you’ve ever thought of these programs as golden keys to a locked door, you’re not alone. The branding is slick. The marketing is compelling. And the promises are just vague enough to feel true. After all, who wouldn’t want to study medicine at Harvard for two weeks? Who wouldn’t be proud to say they took law classes at Stanford? It feels impressive.

But here’s the thing: in admissions speak, pay-to-play programs are, in most cases, “low value signals.” That’s not to say they’re meaningless. But it is to say that in the eyes of an admissions officer, they tell a very limited story—usually just that you chose to spend part of your summer learning something, and that you could afford the program. Not nothing. Just… not everything.

So, who should consider a pay-to-play program?

Students who are early in their journey. Who haven’t yet found that spark. Who’ve never been on a college campus or had a real taste of a field they’re vaguely curious about. For them, these programs can be revelatory. I’ve watched students come back from a summer class on international relations with their hair blown back like the guy in the famous Maxell cassette ad, rattling off policy details they’d never thought to Google before. I’ve seen a kid who had never heard of biostatistics suddenly fall in love with data. I’ve also seen students learn that, in fact, the field they were ostensibly in love with is not the right choice. That’s important information to have.

And that’s the point. When these programs work, they work because they offer exposure. Because they give a student who has little prior experience in a given field—or maybe very little experience outside of school altogether—a chance to dip a toe into something new, ideally in a supportive, structured, even inspiring setting. That’s who these programs are for: the student who’s still figuring it out. The student who’s motivated, but untested. 

And for these students in particular, pay-to-play summer programs can be the stepping stone they need to reach more substantive work in the field—research assistantships, publications, competitions—that actually do make a meaningful, positive impression on admissions officers.

But here’s where my warning comes in.

If you are a student who already has something—a project, a passion, a cause, a job, a sibling you care for, a novel you’re writing, a rare bird you’re tracking in the forest behind your house—don’t drop it to attend a program just because the university logo makes your parents swoon.

That’s especially true for students who already have access—to resources, to connections, to experience. If your resume already boasts a science fair award, a political campaign internship, and a handful of self-initiated projects, another line item in the form of a well-marketed summer institute isn’t going to impress admissions officers. In fact, it might make them wonder why you opted for the prepackaged route over something more self-directed.

So what’s the answer? As with most things in the college process (and life, really): it depends. Pay-to-play programs can be a lifeline for students who need structure, or confidence, or exposure to something they’ve never tried before. They can be a waste of money for students who already have a passion they are pursuing and need opportunities to go deeper. 

If you’re a student or a parent trying to decide whether one of these programs is worth it, here’s what I’d say: don’t sign up because you think it’ll look good on your college application. Sign up because it might do something good for you. Because it might light a fire, or unlock a curiosity, or give you a glimpse of a future you hadn’t considered before. And if that’s the case, then the experience is already worth more than any admissions bullet point ever could be.

Admissions will always favor the bold—but bold doesn’t always mean expensive. Sometimes, it just means choosing the thing that’s most you.