There’s something strange 
other students will do that I’ve be-
gun to notice. Occasionally, I’ll 
mention my merit scholarship. 
This isn’t a frequent occurrence — 
while I believe financial transpar-
ency is important, I generally think 
it’s in poor taste to go out of my way 
to mention my scholarship to other 
students. Still, it will come up from 
time to time in conversation. 
I can’t, I have to go to an event 
for my scholarship tonight. 
Oh, we know each other 
through my scholarship. 
Strangely, people will assume 
what I really mean is need-based 
financial aid. One time, I worked 
up the courage to call someone out 
on this: No, it’s not financial aid, I 
retorted. I have a merit scholarship. 
The acquaintance I was speaking 
to was immediately apologetic and 
explained that they thought I was 
really talking about financial aid 

because they knew I had grown up 
low-income — and because so few 
students receive scholarships from 
the University of Michigan. 
I don’t think people have any 
malicious intent when they subcon-
sciously swap the terms “scholar-
ship” and “financial aid.” Never-
theless, it points towards broader 
issues with merit scholarships; to 
many of my peers, and especially 
those who know about my fam-
ily background, I just don’t seem 
like the type of person who would 
get a merit scholarship. In fact, it 
seemed like my financial need was 
almost antithetical to the idea that I 
could receive a scholarship—a tacit 
acknowledgment that merit, as we 
commonly understand it, is really 
just a proxy for wealth. 
My merit scholarship sent me 
to college; I doubt I would be at the 
University of Michigan without it. 
While I’m incredibly grateful for 
the donors who have supported 
my education, I’ve begun to see 
my scholarship as a symptom of a 

broken system. More often than 
not, scholarships are awarded to 
students who need them the least: 
Research at New America, a think 
tank based in Washington, D.C., 
found that “about two out of every 
five dollars these schools provided 
in institutional aid went to students 
the government deemed able to af-
ford college without need-based 
aid.” Harold Levy, former New 
York City schools chancellor, ar-
gued in an op-ed for CNN that this 
current system of “taking scarce 
financial aid dollars from low-in-
come students to give to students 
who don’t need it amounts to Rob-
in Hood in reverse – robbing from 
the poor to give to the rich.”
So then why do schools still 
offer merit scholarships when they 
know they aren’t really working? 
This nonsensical approach to fi-
nancial aid, in my view, stems from 
a narrow idea of what merit really is 
— flashy awards, a lengthy resume 
of internships and volunteer ex-
periences, near-perfect standard-

ized test scores — and the way that 
it ultimately benefits wealthy and 
privileged students at the expense 
of their less affluent peers. In a time 
where college is increasingly unaf-
fordable and socioeconomic mo-
bility is declining, the implications 
are clear: It’s time to abolish merit 
scholarships. 
***

In March of my senior year 

of high school, I received an email 

from the University’s admissions 

office. Initially, I thought it was a 

scam. The email was short, my first 

name was misspelled and it was of-

fering something that seemed too 

good to be true. But it wasn’t. I 

was awarded the Stamps Scholar-

ship, a full-ride award named after 

the same wealthy donors who fund 

the Art & Design program at the 

University. All admitted fresh-

men are automatically considered 

for the Stamps Scholarship; the 

admissions office passes along in-

formation about students who may 

be a good fit and that pool is then 

narrowed down to a final list of re-

cipients. 
I don’t think I fit the profile of 
a typical full-ride recipient. I don’t 
say this to be humble — I think I 
worked hard in high school and 
earned my spot at the University. 
But nothing about me was truly 
exceptional compared to my peers. 
I had good grades, but only in the 
context of my low-performing rural 
high school. I did well on standard-
ized tests, but was far from a perfect 
score. I did plenty of extracurricu-
lars, but didn’t achieve any sort of 
national recognition for them. 
Merit is a floating signifier, 
something that can point to what-
ever combination of attributes is 
convenient at a given moment. 
GPA and test scores, although 
deeply flawed, can provide some 
objective benchmark of achieve-
ment, although merit scholarships 
typically take a more holistic view 
of students, considering their ex-
tracurricular activities, leadership 
positions and volunteer experi-
ence. It’s been widely researched 
that affluent students score higher 
on standardized tests. What’s 
more difficult to articulate is the 
relationship 
between 
essays, 
extracurriculars and wealth. Re-
searchers at Stanford University 
found that the content and quality 
of applicants’ essays had a stron-
ger correlation with household 
income than SAT scores.
Although this connection is 
subtle, once you see it, it’s hard not 
to notice it. The kinds of flashy ex-
tracurriculars, moving personal es-
says or prestigious national awards 
that put students on the track to 
merit scholarships are all a func-
tion of access: who goes to a school 
that can offer those opportunities, 
who can afford to travel to national 
competitions, who can take a lead-
ership position because they don’t 
need to work, who has adults in 
their life that can help them with 
their essays (or worse, who can 
hire an admissions consultant). 

 HALEY JOHNSON
Statement Correspondent

Design by Iris Ding

2 — The Statement // Wednesday, April 12, 2023
Merit scholarships sent me to college. 
Now, I think we need to abolish them

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