Most families look you up before they ever call. We measure what they find — your site, the Google result above it, your listings, and what the AI assistants say about you — and what a phone can actually do with any of it.
Free, no call required, usually back within 24 hours.
More than 250 sites built and hosted since 2010, many of them schools, parishes and nonprofits.
A parochial school
in Central Illinois
85 pages measured
A real result, July 2026. The school is not named here.
Measured on real school sites this term. Not one of these is a technical problem. All four are a family walking away.
Google increasingly answers a parent's question directly, above the links, from whatever sources it trusts. If your own pages aren't among them, a third party is describing your school for you.
Every source Google used here was one of the school’s own pages. That is the result you want, and it is not the usual one.
how do i schedule a tour at [school name]
The answer Google gave
“You can schedule a tour by contacting the admissions office by phone, email, or online.” It then named the admissions director, her email address and her phone extension.
Every source it used
A real result for a parochial school in Central Illinois, July 2026. The bad version of this is Google answering from a directory that still lists a phone number you stopped using. We test three questions and record every source, so you know which one you’re getting.
And it isn’t only Google. Families are starting to ask ChatGPT, Claude, Copilot and Perplexity the same questions, and those assistants each decide separately whether they’re allowed to read your site. Your report lists which ones you currently let in, which ones you’re turning away, and which facts about your school they can actually pick up once they’re there.
“It is the best-written page on the site. It answers nine questions a preschool parent actually asks. It carries no link at all in its own content: not to enrollment, not to tuition, not to a tour, not to the contact page. A parent who finishes that page convinced has nothing to press.”
Schools grade people all day. This one goes the other way. Every figure is measured against your live site, page by page, on the day it’s written.
| Category | Weight | What it measures | Example |
|---|---|---|---|
| Enrollment path | 25% | What a family has to do to book a visit. Your forms counted field by field. | 72Mid |
| AI findability | 20% | Whether your own pages are the source when an AI answers a question about you. | 82Good |
| Findability in search | 20% | Where you rank on the terms a local family types, and who sits above you. | 92Good |
| Speed and mobile | 15% | What Google’s real-world data from your own visitors says, not a lab score. | 58Poor |
| Accessibility | 15% | Whether a parent on a screen reader, or a phone in daylight, can use the site. | 84Good |
| Content freshness | 5% | The pages nobody has opened since 2023, and whether your dates are this year’s. | 84Good |
It costs you a school name and a web address.
The free one isn’t a teaser. About 10 pages: the three AI questions with every source, the findings behind your two lowest scores, five things the site already does well, and an appendix listing every page that was read. Some schools have taken it, worked through it themselves, and never needed anything else from us. That’s a good outcome too.
Six categories scored out of 100, the AI answer test in full, the two least obvious findings on your site, and a list of what is already working. Back within 24 hours.
No cost, no call, and nothing to decline afterwards.
The same six categories measured further, plus what a scorecard has no room for: the searches a local family types, read from live results pages; your Google listing field by field; the directory listings and social accounts carrying your details, each one opened and dated; the design review; and a worksheet of ranked fixes with owners and times.
About 100 pages. Invoiced after you have read it.
Everything above this line is the free scorecard. Everything below it is the paid audit.
Thirteen sections, one of them a design and usability review done by hand. Every recommendation says how long it takes, who in the building should do it, and what it’s worth. It ends as a worksheet with tick boxes.
Everything else in the report is measured. This section is looked at. Your site gets opened on a phone at 375 pixels wide and on a desktop at 1440, and worked through the way a parent would work through it. That is an hour at minimum, every time, and it is never delegated — by somebody who has built and hosted more than 250 sites since 2010, a lot of them parochial and private schools, and who has also sat on the board, served on the marketing and technology committees, run the social accounts, been the web manager, and spent more than ten years as a parent at parochial schools — preschool, elementary, middle and high school — trying to find out what time something starts.
What comes back is not a matter of taste. Every reading gets converted into something you can check yourself, or it gets left out. “The photos feel cold” is nothing. “Five of your eight interior pages carry no photograph below the header” is a finding, and it’s the same observation with the arguing taken out.
Findings your office can act on this month, without a developer and without touching the template.
Findings that need whoever builds your site. Named as such, so nobody spends a morning on something the theme controls.
That is what makes this particular leak so easy to live with. A family who couldn’t find a way to book a tour doesn’t call the office to complain. They look at the next school on the list, and you never learn their name. Enrollment drifts down by two or three a year and everybody blames demographics.
Nobody can tell you how many families your site costs you, and anybody who offers to put a number on it is guessing. What you can know is what a single one of them was worth.
A school publishing five thousand dollars a year, with a child who starts in kindergarten and leaves after eighth grade, is looking at roughly forty-five thousand dollars from one family. Before a sibling. Before the years that family spends telling other parents where their children go.
Almost nothing, which is the frustrating part. In a recent report the nine ranked actions were tagged five minutes, ten minutes, one hour, half a day and one day.
Not one of them was a redesign. Not one needed a budget. The three at the top could be done in two weeks by whoever already maintains the site.
You do not have to believe a report will fill a class. You only have to think one family, over nine years, was worth more than an afternoon of reading.
Pricing for a diocese or a group of schools is different from this. Please get in touch and we’ll work something out that suits you.
Everyone starts with the free scorecard, and we’d suggest asking for that one first. It measures the same site and costs you nothing, and it’s the honest way to find out whether the full audit is worth your money. If it turns out to be, you can simply reply to the email it arrives in and let us know.
We invoice on delivery, payable by check or card.
We invoice the school after it’s delivered, so you can read the whole thing before you decide. If it doesn’t tell you at least three things about your school you didn’t already know, just say the word and we’ll withdraw the invoice. No hard feelings, and no awkward conversation about it.
— Scott Stadler
Focus Web Group · Quincy, Illinois
Especially, honestly. Schools with a communications department usually already know where they stand. Most of the schools we work with have an office manager who keeps the website going between everything else, and the report is written for exactly that person.
Nothing in it assumes you have a budget or a developer on hand.
One person prepares every report, start to finish. More than 250 sites built and hosted since 2010, and close to half of those are schools, parishes and nonprofits, parochial and private schools among them, across the country.
The part that matters more for a report like this is the other angles. School and nonprofit boards. Marketing committees. Technology committees. Web manager for more than one school, which means being the person who actually has to make the change. The social accounts. And more than ten years as a parent at parochial schools, across preschool, elementary, middle and high school — which means having used these sites as every audience the report measures, and which is the only one of those that teaches you what it feels like to hunt a website for a start time on a Sunday night.
Those sites are hosted as well as built, which matters more than it sounds. Living with your own recommendations for six years teaches you which ones quietly fall apart and which ones a busy office actually keeps up. An auditor who hands over a list and walks away never finds that out.
So the report does not come from somebody who has only seen schools from the outside, and it does not come from somebody who has only ever been a vendor.
The website is the center of it, because that is where a family lands and where you have the most control. It is not the whole of it. A recent audit opened and dated every directory profile and social account it could find for the school, noted the ones that refuse to be read automatically rather than guessing at them, checked the name, address and phone on each against a single canonical block, read twelve live search results in a browser, and followed three AI answers to their last cited source.
Social is part of it. That audit covered four accounts, two of them the parish rather than the school, and found the school Facebook page pointing families at the wrong web address while an Instagram account with 37 followers sat on page one of the school’s own brand search. Both are fixes, and neither is on the website.
Where you publish nothing, somebody else publishes something. Two directories in that audit printed a student count the school had never published, and they disagreed with each other.
Sometimes, sometimes not, and we’ll tell you before you spend anything. If the platform is locked down, most recommendations can’t be acted on and the audit is a bad purchase. The free scorecard still shows you where you stand, and it’s worth forwarding to whoever does control the site.
Every recommendation names who in the building should do it and how long it takes. A recent report tagged its nine ranked actions as Office, Principal or Whoever maintains the site, with times from five minutes to one day. A good number are office tasks: a wrong phone number on a directory, a page nobody has opened since 2023, a form that asks for too much.
Others need someone who edits the site. Those are marked as such, so nobody wastes an afternoon finding out the hard way.
We measure what is already public on your website and in public listings. Nothing is logged into, nothing is changed, and your report goes to you and nobody else. We don’t name schools we’ve measured in anyone else’s report.
That’s completely fine, and it’s how a lot of these go. Please take it, use whatever’s useful, and we won’t chase you. If the full audit turns out to be worth it, that’ll be clear to you from the free one without us having to talk you into anything.
We’ll measure your site and send the scorecard back as a PDF, usually within 24 hours. If it’s useful, that’s the whole point. If you want the rest, it’ll be obvious by then.
Or if you’d rather, please email scott@enrollmentscorecard.com, or call 217-617-4610.
Got it — thanks.
We’ll measure the site and send your scorecard back as a PDF, usually within 24 hours. There’s a confirmation in your inbox now, and if you don’t see it, it’s worth a look in the junk folder.