5 Questions to Ask Before Paying for an Honor Society Invitation: A High School Teacher’s Guide
The final bell had just rung, and I was shoving a stack of ungraded 11th grade vocabulary quizzes into my tote bag when Mia knocked on my classroom door. She twisted the string of her gray hoodie while stepping inside, and pulled a crisp cream-colored envelope from her coffee-shop-logoed backpack. She’d gotten the invitation in the mail a week earlier, she said, to join a national honor society. The one-time lifetime membership fee was $75, and her mom told her to ask me if it was worth paying—since the invitation said membership would look great on college applications.
I recognized the envelope immediately. I’d had at least three students come to me with the same exact offer in the last two years. One boy, Jake, a junior from last year, had paid $90 for a similar group, added it to his Common App, and when I mentioned it to an admissions rep from our local state university that fall, she just shook her head. She sees 10 or more of these paid, unregulated memberships on applications every week, and no one on the admissions team bothers to note them.
I pulled out the extra chair by my desk and had Mia sit down. We didn’t go over any fancy lists, but we walked through the questions I now tell every student and parent to ask before they pull out a credit card.
First, we checked if the organization is tied to our school’s official chapter. Mia’s invitation didn’t mention our school at all. Our school’s National Honor Society chapter accepts nominations only through the guidance office, requires teacher recommendations and community service hours, and charges a $10 fee that the PTA covers for any student who can’t pay. This invitation had arrived out of the blue, because a third-party company had bought Mia’s student data from a national college clearinghouse after they saw her 3.4 GPA. It’s common for these companies to buy bulk student lists and send invitations to any kid with a grade point average above a 3.0, regardless of any other achievement.
Next, I asked Mia to show me what benefits the membership actually promised, beyond the nice wording on the brochure. We pulled up the organization’s website on my classroom computer. The front page touted exclusive scholarships, college admissions webinars, and free resume reviews. When we clicked through, we found three total scholarships, the largest being $1000, with more than 12,000 members applying for it every year. The webinars were recorded versions of the same free sessions you can watch on the College Board’s YouTube channel. The resume review was an automated tool that any student can access for free through their public library. The only tangible thing you get is a printed certificate you could print for $2 at our school library.
Third, we talked about whether colleges actually care about the membership. I told Mia what the admissions rep told me: colleges only care about honor societies that require more than just a payment. If you join through your school’s chapter, you have to show up to meetings, complete service projects, maintain your grades over time— that demonstrates commitment, which matters. A group that lets you pay to join as long as you have a decent GPA doesn’t tell admissions officers anything new about you. It doesn’t hurt your application, most of the time, but it doesn’t help either.
Fourth, I asked Mia if this was the best use of her money. She told me the $75 was coming out of her coffee shop tips. She’d been saving for a set of professional watercolors for her AP Studio Art portfolio, and they cost $68. She paused for a minute, twisting that hoodie string again. She hadn’t thought about it that way—she was so flattered to get the invitation that she just assumed it was a necessary expense. But $75 for a membership that doesn’t help her college apps, versus $68 for supplies that let her build the portfolio that will actually get her into the art programs she wants to apply to? That was an easy comparison she hadn’t made yet.
Fifth, I asked her to check the fine print for hidden recurring fees. A parent emailed me two years ago whose 10th grader joined a similar honor society, thinking the $55 fee was one-time. It turned out it was an annual membership, and the fine print said automatic renewal was turned on by default. They couldn’t get the recurring charges canceled for six months, and ended up paying an extra $110 before they could stop it. Most kids forget they even joined these groups a few months after they sign up, so these organizations count on that extra hidden income.
Mia folded the invitation back up and put it in her backpack that afternoon. She stopped at guidance on her way out and picked up an application for our school’s honor society, which she qualifies for. I saw her at the grocery store last month, and she had that new watercolor set in her cart, and told me she’d turned in her school application the week before.
I still get at least two questions a month from parents and students about these honor society offers. Sometimes they still decide to pay, just to err on the side of caution, and that’s okay. It’s not a terrible mistake, just a missed opportunity to spend money on something that actually moves the needle for your kid. These companies are really good at preying on the anxiety everyone feels around college admissions, turning a generic form letter into a feeling of being seen and honored. All you have to do is slow down long enough to ask a few simple questions before you write the check.
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