College swag: My daughter’s gotten precisely nothing (well, unless you count stickers) in the mail, which I find a bit odd—33 ACT, 3.9+ GPA, and geographic diversity, one would think she’d’ve gotten a little love by now. Maybe they figure that it’s never warm enough in Alaska to wear a t-shirt, so it’d be wasted postage. 
AP courses: My daughter’s school offers four AP classes (down from five—one is being replaced by a dual enrollment class this coming year), of which she’ll end up having taken three, so I don’t really have a dog in this fight on that front. I will say, though, that as a college professor, I’m incredibly skeptical of the widespread explosion of AP course offerings. I think it was incredibly useful when it was a smaller program, but things like Jay Mathews’s misguided (but I repeat myself…) “Challenge Index”, which rewards high schools for putting lots of students through AP courses without regard to quality of instruction or any outcomes at all, have resulted in the idea that pretty much every student should take as many AP courses as possible. This has resulted in a dilution of the program, and so you end up with a lot of unevenness in students who come in with, say, credit for the first-year composition sequence. Some of them can write wonderfully, but most of them can string together ideas but don’t have a firm enough grounding in the rhetoric of composition to be really good; part much of me thinks if the ones who write so well would write so well anyway.
Limiting college applications: Not until we fix college financing. My daughter has 11 on her list, of which four (really five, but one’s marginally so) are safeties, and mainly financial safeties. If you’re searching for the best merit aid, you have to cast a wide net.
Early decision: Since I was so bluntly emphatic earlier in my loathing of ED, I suppose I should expand on that, and give my reasons. So: If you don’t care about this topic, ignore the rest of this post. If you do, here’s detail—lots of it.
The main thing is that I see any negotiation situation in terms of power relationships. So, for example, if you’re applying for a new job, the potential employer (usually) has the power at that point, because they get to choose whether to hire you. Once you’re offered the job, however, the power shifts to the potential employee, because the employer has made it clear that they want you—so this is really your only chance to offer demands. (Yes, the employer still has some power—they can rescind the offer of employment—but you had power in the first phase, when you could have withdrawn your application; I’m talking about where the bulk of the power lies.) Then, after the negotiation phase, when you’ve accepted the terms, the power (of continuation or firing) shifts back to the employer.
I see the college application process in exactly the same way: As applications are sent out, power rests with the colleges; however, once a student has (often multiple) offers, the student has the power, due precisely to the ability to (1) weigh competing offers and (2) simply make an informed choice. (Once an offer is accepted, power shifts back to the college—but that’s after anything I’m talking about here.)
ED requires a student to cede their power at the outset—they never get to choose between competing offers. Further—and this is where the core of my discomfort lies, really—the student has to do so while still uninformed about the precise parameters of the offer they may receive.
And, of course, there is the practicality—students who are in need of financial aid to attend college have to commit with a glaring lack of information about finances. This is, really, an inexcusable requirement on the part of colleges. (And yes, a student can get out of an ED commitment if the financial aid isn’t workable, but the timing of the thing means that the student has lost the opportunity for the best financial offers at many other colleges.)
And yes, it is a reasonable counter to ask about students who are very clear in their top choice of college, and do not require non-guaranteed financial support to attend. Yes, for these students, ED is a reasonable choice—but the distortions that ED creates cause problems for the entire system, and so the best choice for that one student (read: ED) make it problematic for applicants as a whole. (Basically, a sort of a commons problem.)
These distortions come about because colleges really, really want predictable, preferably high, yield rates. The reasons for this are both internal (a desire for certainty, wanting to make sure there isn’t too high of an empty-space rate or any overcrowding, and so on) and external (the widespread belief that a higher yield rate usually reflects a more desirable school). This leads many colleges—some overtly, some covertly—to view ED applicants preferentially, because an ED admit is a (near-)guaranteed matriculant, thus improving the yield rate.
However, ED applicants are disproportionately likely to be wealthy, and from backgrounds with high degrees of cultural capital. This occurs both because ED rewards wealth—if you don’t care what the financial offer is, you don’t have to base any decisions on finances—as well as those coming from background with high degrees of knowledge and understanding of the higher education system. If one of the ideals of the higher education system is that it provides a way for society generally to improve itself—and I think we’re generally agreed on that, and have been in the western world for a few millennia now—the distortions of ED are doing a disservice to those whose situation could be most intensely improved, and thus to society as a whole.