Admissions scandals: Would you cheat for your child's education?

Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy. Photo / AP

As more than 40 people are charged in an American university admissions scam, Guy Kelly investigates how far parents will go.

As a story set to warm the hearts of everybody not directly involved, it has the lot: alleged widespread abuse of privilege publicly unmasked by the highest authorities, the deafening sound of New Money clashing with Old, a heavy dose of Hollywood glamour but an even heavier dose of Hollywood hypocrisy, some downright bizarre details and, perhaps above all, the overwhelming sense that it couldn't have happened to nicer people.

In the United States on Tuesday, an FBI investigation that went by the name Operation Varsity Blues revealed that more than 40 people — mainly wealthy parents — had been charged in a nationwide university admissions scam that allegedly involved helping students with weak academic grades cheat on entrance exams, acquiring sports scholarships for non-athletic teenagers, and bribery payments that extended into the millions, all in order to gain places at elite universities. Among those indicted are former Desperate Housewives star Felicity Huffman and fellow Hollywood actor Lori Loughlin.

The scheme, which one prosecuting lawyer claimed to be "the largest-ever college admissions scam", was an elaborate one. Through his company Edge College & Career Network, William "Rick" Singer established two scams — one involving cheating on exams, the other organising the payment of bribes to sports coaches at top schools.

Authorities claim that between 2011 and 2018, Singer earned about US$25 million ($36m) from parents paying anywhere between a few thousand and US$6.5m for his services. There's no suggestion the universities had knowledge of the schemes, and nor is it thought the students knew what their parents might have been up to.

Stanford and other US universities are being sued by students saying they were denied a fair shot at admission. Photo / AP

Some elements — such as Loughlin allegedly paying more than half a million dollars to obtain fake documents claiming her YouTuber daughter Olivia Jade and her sister were elite rowers (neither has ever been documented near a boat, let alone crewing one) in order to enrol at the University of Southern California — sound lifted from a television script.

Huffman's alleged "charitable contribution" of US$15,000 to Singer's fake charity, allegedly made in order to facilitate cheating on a daughter's SAT results, would have made a terrific Desperate Housewives plotline. In reality, however, how far away is it from what goes on in other countries?

'It's quite a shocking story, outrageous really, betraying the children by just putting them in great places for the wrong reasons — but we all know that parents try to go the extra mile to try to get the right school for their kids," says Vanessa Miner, managing director of Gabbitas, an education consultancy with branches in England, Dubai and China.

Established in 1873, it offers advice and guidance to parents hoping to find "the right school" for a child, charging "a percentage of the first year's fees".

"We work with a lot of international clients, and with some there is an expectation that they can approach the organisation and do something that will allow them to get preferential treatment. And that's really not the case, so we disabuse them of that."

In New Zealand, Crimson Consulting's core business is tutoring for high school students with a view to winning scholarships at highly competitive Ivy League universities. It offers package deals including help with admissions and CV writing for upwards of a reputed $10,000 per student — although its prices are not public.

In response to the admissions scandal, Crimson posted on its Facebook page that its philosophy had always been supporting students with "holistic" development and providing them with lasting skills to "confidently and ethically" approach their applications. Other agents may be less scrupulous.

Three years ago David Fletcher, then registrar at prestigious UK boarding school Stowe, was caught on camera saying a six-figure payment to the institution would help in a "marginal decision" on whether a pupil should have a place — later admitting one overseas family had given $190,000 to secure admission.

Fletcher later resigned, but the same investigation found that educational consultants were willing to facilitate payments of up to £5 million ($9.7m) to public schools on behalf of families keen to win places for overseas children. Anecdotal examples of bribery in the schools system reveal the creativity of sharp-elbowed parents, if nothing else.

There is the "old-fashioned" route: libraries or new research wings built using new parents' money. A former pupil at one top Home Counties school told me a new sports pavilion was once donated by a father whose daughter desperately needed a place.

Then, there are the movers.

Lori Loughlin with daughters Olivia Jade (left) and Isabella Rose. Photo / Getty Images

According to Santander Mortgages, one in four parents with school-age children have bought or rented a new home to get into a school catchment area.

In New Zealand, Auckland Grammar, one of the nation's most sought-after secondary schools, employs two full-time staff to check students are living where they claim, and, in serious cases, hires private investigators to crack down on parents trying to cheat the system.

The Herald is also aware of one recent case where a family reportedly bought a Remuera home as a ruse to enrol in the local primary, but now largely leave it vacant to live elsewhere.

Here and overseas there are perennial rumours of grandparents' addresses being registered, second homes being bought for the sole purpose of appearing local, and even tiny boxroom flats being cycled between generations of connected parents desperate to have any kind of anchor near a high-performing state school.

Others verge on callous. A source at another UK independent school, which uses its foundation to offer bursaries to children who have lost a parent, remembers one mother pretending to be a widow in order to sway admissions tutors. Other parents reportedly arrange for fake baptism certificates to qualify for religious schools, tell teachers their marriage has broken down so that their child has to live between two addresses, and bribe private doctors to give evidence the child has special needs, and thus requires preferential treatment.

"Some places are hugely oversubscribed, and they can't have them all sitting tests, so they use filtering systems to find out which children are most suitable," Miner says. "We don't deal with state schools, but overseas parents particularly will come to us with a very famous public school in mind, and if it's a highly academic environment then it's often not right for their child. Parents don't always like it, but we pride ourselves on being honest ..."

Miner believes the Ivy League scholarship system among US universities may be more open to abuse than in Britain, but the potential for duplicitousness doesn't stop once admission has been gained. Last year almost 50 university vice-chancellors wrote to the Government calling for a ban on "essay mill" websites — services that allow students to buy original, completed work that often outfoxes the most sophisticated plagiarism software.

In the US the response to the scandal has been a mix of outrage and glee. Donald Trump jnr has been revelling in the misdeeds of Hollywood stars, though if he wishes to investigate the topic further, Twitter users have swiftly reminded him of claims that his father donated US$100,000 ($146,000) to his alma mater, Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania, the same year he enrolled. But I'm sure that's all above board.