The best roundtable discussions don’t just give you answers, they give you better questions.
Our topic at CUPRAP’s Spring Professional Conference earlier this month, “What Makes Student Stories Believable Now,” didn’t lead to easy answers. Like authenticity itself, it’s hard to pin down. What makes stories believable now is a feeling of trust. Trust in the moment, in the person, in the place.
What the roundtable did easily confirm is that people don’t create or consume stories like they used to. We’re all more skeptical. More selective with our attention. Stories are everywhere now, but fewer create real connection. The ones that do resonate share something honest—a truth or vulnerability that feels earned. And that takes bravery. And time.
Everyone at the table, from teams hailing from Gettysburg to Penn State Berks, could attest to the perils of cultivating that kind of bravery in storytelling. But it is possible. And many of the representatives from institutions that joined, including Alvernia and Susquehanna Universities, are striving toward that every day.
Because the question behind every story has shifted. It’s no longer about majors or rankings or brand impressiveness — it’s something quieter and more urgent:
Can I see myself here? Do I belong here? Do you remember my story? Will someone help me if I don’t have it all figured out?
During the presentation, “Discovering Impact: Engaging the Undecided Student Through Strategic Advertising and Enrollment Collaboration” by Joel Bauman and Jamie Hornstein from Duquesne University, that shift showed up in a simple but telling piece of messaging:
“Have you thought about a major, or are you still exploring?”
This small change reframes uncertainty from a weakness into something expected and supported. Because undecided students aren’t lacking direction. Like all prospective students, they’re trying to figure out who they want to become in college.
From a Strategist’s Lens: Relevance Is the New Trust
For Michele Loeper, a lead strategist who helped lead the Paskill roundtable, across CUPRAP, the through-line that stood out wasn’t storytelling. It was alignment, or more often, the lack of it.
In his workshop, “How To Get And Keep The Attention Of More Prospective Students,” consultant Jeremy Tiers said the quiet part out loud: “In a world of AI, please be unapologetically human. Say the thing.”
The problem is that institutions struggle to say the thing when marketing speaks one language and admissions speaks another. When departments sound like they’re from different decades. When the experience doesn’t match the promise.
That’s where trust breaks. And no story, however well-crafted, can easily repair it.
Two lines from Jeremy that deserve to live on a wall somewhere:
“Your response times tell people you want them there.”
“More information does not equal more confidence.”
And the reframe that should reshape how every enrollment team thinks about their work:
Enrollment isn’t a funnel. It’s a relationship.
That distinction shows up in the details, whether you follow up quickly, whether you reference a student’s campus visit, whether your stories feel lived-in or like they were written by committee.
Relevance signals trust to your prospective students. Honestly, it’s table stakes now.
From a Parent’s Lens: This Is Personal Now
Full disclosure: neither of us came to this conversation purely as strategists.
Michele has a daughter already in college, graduating in just a few months. My oldest has committed and deposited at Albright College, where she’ll play volleyball in the fall. Which means we’re watching enrollment strategies play out in real time, from the other side of the inbox.
And what’s striking is how closely the research mirrors what we see at home.
The messages that get deleted? Generic. Overwritten. Clearly automated. The ones that actually get a response? Specific, simple, human. One clear next step. One real name behind the message.
What students and their parents are navigating underneath all of it is a fear that rarely gets named directly: What if I make the wrong decision?
More content won’t answer that. More channels won’t either. What answers it is consistency, every interaction signaling that someone on the other end is paying attention.
Believability Is Built in the Gaps
During the keynote, “Brains, Biases, and Belonging,” author Christina Garnett put it precisely: “Belonging is inferred through behavior.“
Not stated. Not designed. Inferred — from whether someone follows through, whether timelines are clear, whether the tone of an email sounds like a person or a process.
Students are deciding whether they could belong long before anyone tells them they do. Which means believability isn’t built in your best campaign. It’s built in the gaps:
Between marketing and admissions. Between promise and process. Between story and experience.
The Shift We Can’t Ignore
The temptation is to respond to all of this with more — more content, more personalization, more channels. But that’s not what students are asking for. If anything, the signal is the opposite.
From the roundtable to the sessions to the hallway conversations, a direction is emerging:
Fewer stories, told more truthfully. Fewer messages, with more intention. Fewer claims, with more proof.
Or put another way: the bigger you make the story, the less anyone believes it.
A Final Thought
One of the most memorable moments from the conference came from a simple analogy during the belonging keynote about what happens when an institution’s growing affection for a prospect goes unreturned:
“All I’m saying is I love you. You’re saying ‘who’s this?'”
We’re asking students to commit to a place, a future, a version of themselves — before we’ve earned the right to be known.
Believability doesn’t come from better storytelling alone. It comes from recognition. From showing students: We see you. We remember you. We’re ready.
That means recalling what they wrote in their application essay. Knowing their interests beyond the data fields. Staying curious about who they’re becoming — not just what they’ll contribute to your enrollment numbers.
That’s what students are choosing. And increasingly, it’s what they’re choosing between.
