I analyzed 268 colleges’ Common Data Sets. Here’s what they publicly admit matters in admissions.

It’s called the Common Data Set — a standardized disclosure that most colleges publish every year, in which they report, in their own words, exactly which application factors they consider and how much each one matters. Almost nobody reads these documents. They’re buried on institutional research pages, formatted inconsistently, and scattered across hundreds of websites.

So I collected them. As of this analysis, my dataset includes 2,329 sections extracted from 268 colleges’ 2023–24 Common Data Set filings, plus an early sample from the emerging 2024–25 cycle (96 colleges at the time this analysis was run; the collection has since grown to 553, and the figures here will be refreshed against the full set). This article is the first in a series reporting what that data actually says — including several places where it contradicts what families commonly believe.

I’m a professor of information systems, so let me start the way I’d want any analysis to start: with what this data is, and what it isn’t.

How to read this analysis (methodology, up front)

• Every figure below is institution-reported. Colleges fill out these forms themselves. I am reporting what they say, not auditing whether their committees behave accordingly.
• Sample sizes vary by question. Not every college reports every field, and some files resist clean extraction. Every statistic below states its N — “among the 74 colleges reporting this field” — and I never say “all colleges.”
• This is the 2023–24 cycle unless noted, because it is the most recent cycle with broad complete reporting. Policies change; always check the current CDS for any college on your list. Every named college’s figure comes from that institution’s own published document — you can find any college’s filing by searching “[college name] common data set 2023-24.”
• Descriptive, not causal. When early-decision admit rates exceed overall rates, that is a difference between applicant pools, not proof that checking a box changes an outcome. I’ll flag this distinction wherever it matters.
• Sixteen difficult files were excluded rather than partially parsed. Incomplete records are not represented in any statistic here.
• I’m the founder of ColBuddy, a family college-planning tool. This analysis is free, the sources are public, and you can verify every number without ever using my product.

Here’s what the colleges themselves say.

1. The factor hierarchy is not what most families think

Among 2023–24 filings with extractable “relative importance” data (CDS section C7), here’s how often each factor was rated important or very important:

Read that top line again. Course rigor — the difficulty of the classes a student chooses — is the most consistently important factor colleges report. More consistently important than the essay. Roughly twice as consistently important as test scores.

The practical order of operations this suggests for a family: transcript first (rigor and grades), persuasive application second (essay, character), activity polish third. That’s close to the reverse of where many families spend their anxiety and their money.

What this can’t tell you: how any single college weighs these factors against each other for a student like yours, or how “important” translates into committee behavior. It tells you where the center of gravity is across 74 institutions willing to say.

2. Demonstrated interest: neither myth nor rule

Of 70 colleges reporting on demonstrated interest: 33 said they do not consider it, 32 said they consider it, and only 5 called it important or very important.

The internet argues about demonstrated interest as if there’s one answer. The colleges’ own filings say the answer is: it depends entirely on the college. Before your family spends money on a cross-country visit “to show interest,” spend ten minutes finding that college’s CDS and reading its own answer.

3. Interviews matter less than the stress they cause

Among 69 reporting colleges: 40 do not consider interviews at all. Nineteen consider them; only 10 rate them important or very important.

If your student is offered an interview, prepare seriously — it’s a real conversation with a real person. But the data doesn’t support treating the interview as the make-or-break center of an application. For most colleges reporting, it isn’t even a factor.

4. Legacy: less decisive than the headlines suggest — in either direction

Among 72 reporting colleges: 35 do not consider alumni relationships, 36 consider them, exactly 1 rates them important, and none rate them very important.

Legacy admissions is neither dead everywhere nor decisive everywhere. Two honest caveats belong next to this finding: “considered” reveals nothing about the size of any advantage, and legacy policies have been changing rapidly — verify the current year’s filing for any college where this matters to your family.

5. The test-optional data trap

Among 74 reporting colleges, 26 rate standardized tests important or very important, 40 consider them, and 8 don’t consider them at all.

But the more consequential finding hides in the score-reporting sections: published score ranges describe students who submitted scores — not necessarily the whole admitted class. Penn reported 51% of enrolling students submitting an SAT score and 19% submitting an ACT. Rice reported 50% and 22%. (Don’t add those percentages; some students submit both.)

So when a family looks up a college’s “middle 50% SAT range” and treats it as an admission cutoff, they’re reading a statistic about half the class as if it described everyone. A college’s published median is not a universal bar your student must clear — it’s a description of the students who chose to show their scores.

6. The early decision advantage is real — and the headline number misleads

Across the 18 colleges in my dataset with usable early-decision figures, the median within-college ratio of ED admit rate to overall admit rate was about 1.18 — a real but modest edge.

The headline gaps you’ve seen are real too, at specific institutions: Wesleyan reported 40.1% ED admission versus 17.1% overall; Rice, 16.5% versus 7.9%; Penn, 14.8% versus roughly 5.9%.

Here is the sentence that should accompany every ED statistic and almost never does: these are descriptive differences between different applicant pools, not the causal effect of checking a box. ED pools contain recruited athletes, institutional priorities, and applicants who are, on average, better prepared and better informed. Some of the gap is the pool, not the plan. (And note the N: eighteen colleges. This is the smallest sample in this analysis, and I’d rather tell you that than let you find out.)

The family decision ED actually forces isn’t statistical — it’s financial: committing before comparing aid offers. That trade-off deserves more attention than the admit-rate gap gets. (If sticker prices are what’s scaring your family, start with why the sticker price is almost never what you pay.)

7. A college’s acceptance rate is a terrible calculator of your student’s odds

Among 192 colleges with usable application totals, the median admit rate was 52.4%, with the middle half of colleges falling between roughly 28.2% and 74.2%. Median enrollment yield among 175 reporters: 21.5%.

Two things follow. First, the hyper-selective colleges that dominate headlines are outliers; the median college in this dataset admits most applicants. Second, an institutional rate averages over residency, intended major, academic profile, and recruitment priorities — none of which are average for your student. An acceptance rate describes a crowd. Your student is not a crowd.

8. The waitlist is a backup plan, not a strategy

Across 65 colleges with complete 2023–24 waitlist figures: the median college saw 44.9% of offered students accept a waitlist spot — and then admitted only 13.8% of those who accepted. Five colleges admitted nobody from the waitlist. In the smaller early 2024–25 sample, the median admit-from-waitlist rate was just 8.3%.

These are medians across institutions, not any individual student’s probability. But the planning implication is blunt: a waitlist offer is a reason to finish falling in love with a college that said yes, not a reason to wait by the phone.

What this data can’t do

An aggregate can tell you where 268 colleges’ stated priorities cluster. It cannot tell you how a specific college will read your specific student — their transcript against their school’s offerings, their essay, their context. No dataset can, and you should be suspicious of any tool or consultant that claims otherwise. (Mine doesn’t. That’s a design decision, not a limitation we regret.)

What a family can do with this: put anxiety where the data says leverage lives — rigor and grades first — check each shortlist college’s own CDS instead of relying on folklore, and treat every admit-rate, score-range, and ED statistic as a description of past crowds rather than a prediction about your kid.

Corrections and updates

This analysis will be refreshed when the 2024–25 cycle reaches broad completeness (the underlying collection has already grown from 96 to 553 colleges for that cycle), and this page will log any corrections with dates. If you find an error — a misread figure, a college whose current filing contradicts a claim here — email me and I’ll verify against the source document and correct publicly. (No corrections to date.)

Related reading: before any of this matters, the FAFSA has to go smoothly — who counts as a “contributor” on the 2027–28 FAFSA is the step that trips up divorced and remarried families most.

Mohamed Abouzahra, Ph.D., is an associate professor at California State University, Monterey Bay, a father of three (one currently mid-gauntlet), and the founder of ColBuddy — an independent family college-planning tool, not affiliated with or endorsed by CSUMB or any college named above.