Of Jellybeans and Ivy League Rankings

ACCORDING to the October 16 issue of U.S. News & World Report, Harvard-Radcliffe ranks third among national universities. This came as quite a shock to an acquaintance, a "Harvard man" if ever there was one. He's not used to being second-best in anything; third is simply anathema.

"Third?" he bellowed. "Holy Crimson--how can it be?"

I gently suggested that he pay no heed to the report. Ranking universities, I said, is like guessing jellybeans--completely unscientific and of no lasting significance.

The Harvard man didn't see it that way. "This university doesn't have to answer to anyone," he snorted, "except possibly the Justice Department. But certainly not to any pagan journalists."

And thus, the two of us spent the better part of an evening poring over the offending material--the U.S. News & World Report exclusive ratings: America's Best Colleges.

QUICKLY we flipped through the preliminary text to the crux of the study, a numerical ranking of the top 25 national universities. Yale was first (the Harvardian grimaced), followed by Princeton (now a scowl). "Harvard College and Radcliffe College" squeezed into the third column.

In small print to the right were columns representing the five criteria used in the rankings: academic reputation, student selectivity, retention patterns, faculty quality and financial resources.

Our Crimson booster nearly leaped out of his insignia sweatsuit at this sight. The folks at U.S. News & World Report were headed in the right direction, he said, but they had stopped way short of completion. "How in the name of Widener," he swore, "could anyone judge a school on just five broad criteria?"

His face was crimson with rage.

"LET'S talk aesthetics," he prodded. "Beauty counts for nothing in that study. But I, for one, would prefer a stroll along the Charles with a paramour to a furtive dash through New Haven alleyways or an asthmatic traipse through Jersey smog."

The report, I confessed, made no mention of setting. The Harvard man had made his point--but he was already onto another item.

"Why," he pressed, "Is there no mention of academic opportunities? Not many other schools offer such exotic courses as Urdu, or even Heros or Beasts. Not many other schools have a Steven Jay Gould or a Bernard Bailyn."

One shouldn't judge a school's "academic reputation," went his argument, and meanwhile neglect its academics.

Flipping throught the text accompanying the rankings, the Harvardian now found the criterion marked "retention patterns."

"This sounds scary," he admitted.

"Retention patterns" is a euphemism for how many dropouts a school records each year, I explained. Some say it measures the number of athletic recruits who don't belong academically. Harvard placed eighth in this category, behind four Ivy cousins.

The Harvard denizen was puzzled. "Is there nothing else in the rankings concerning athletics?" he asked. "No mention of financial support, facilities or tradition; not even the intramurals are considered. Is there nothing to be said for sports except retention rates?"

He marched about the room, soothing himself by recalling last winter's glorious match in Minnesota, and the autumn duel in New Haven two years before that.

IT seemed the Harvard man had finally seen the light. Ranking national universities in terms of "overall goodness" is a ludicrous business, he said.

It's especially ludicrous he couldn't resist adding, when Harvard doesn't finish first.