Phil Knox hunches over the second-to-last freshman application in a stack of 25, rapidly scanning Page 3, a dull-tipped pencil in hand.

It takes Knox, a "reader" at the University of California, Davis, just five minutes to make his judgment and scribble a "0" with a slash mark through it on the front of this young man's eight-page application.

He'd garnered none of the booster points for activities and life experience that can make a difference between acceptance or rejection from the university.

Zero points for leadership - his membership in the math club and on the speech and debate team don't count, nor does the five-hour-a-week stint as a volunteer tutor.

Zero points for special talent - nothing to show in the way of state or national awards for music or sports.

And zero for perseverance, because his personal essay about his struggles with childhood asthma doesn't convince Knox that it made his schoolwork any tougher.

Knox, one of 97 readers at UC Davis this year, is trained to look for evidence of accomplishment that goes beyond grades and test scores.

Instead, he pores over student essays and applications looking for achievements in any of five seemingly nebulous categories: leadership, talent, perseverance, disability and dramatic academic improvement. A "hit" in any one of these categories adds 250 points to the applicant's score - and can tip the scales toward admission.

Under UC Davis' system of admissions, these special categories account for about 9 percent of the total points possible for a student application. Academics - a combination of grades, course rigor and test scores - count for 75 percent of the 14,000 possible points. Criteria that indicate a student comes from a poor or disadvantaged background account for another 16 percent of the possible points.

In the case of the applicant before him, the zero rating from Knox likely will put the young man - an A student with an SAT score of 1280 - behind thousands of others when admissions officials at UC Davis finally choose the freshman class of 2004.

This year, more than 31,000 students have applied for freshman admission to UC Davis. In mid-March, the packets of acceptance and rejection will go out via post office and e-mail. Slightly more than half of those who applied actually will get in, and somewhere around 4,300 will decide to enroll.

"Admissions is not a simple numbers game, although that's what people want it to be," says Knox, who volunteers every year to review applications while juggling his regular job as assistant director of student special services. "And some people think it's in the luck of the draw on who reads your application. It's not either."

Readers such as Knox operate in a corner of UC admissions not well-understood by the families looking to enroll. Known as comprehensive review, it's a technique for transforming intangibles such as talent, leadership and perseverance into concrete point totals - adding a subjectivity to the admissions process that has sparked controversy in recent months.

Banned from using affirmative action in admissions, UC has adopted comprehensive review as a means of ensuring a more diverse student body. But what counts as point-worthy among admissions officials doesn't necessarily jibe with what parents might expect would earn their child a freshman spot.

In assessing applications, admissions officers look well beyond what happens during the school day and for evidence that a student thrived in the face of personal difficulty. And what does - and doesn't - count as an achievement isn't always readily apparent to those on the outside.

Under UC Davis' system, a student who works to help support his family can be judged to have as much leadership potential as an applicant who serves as student body president. A kid who did well in school despite having to sleep on the floor of a cramped house can get credit for overcoming hardship, while a student whose brother committed suicide - but who couldn't demonstrate how that affected her schoolwork - might not.

Darlene Hunter, UC Davis' assistant director for undergraduate admissions, puts it this way: "We are looking for above and beyond the norm."

In the universe of Davis applicants, the norm would look exceptional to most.

Among the would-be freshmen for fall 2004, the average GPA is 3.66, the median SAT score is 1,183 out of a possible 1,600, and many applicants have more extracurricular activities than can be squeezed onto the application.

It's up to readers such as Knox to find the really special ones, those whose experiences outside the classroom merit additional points.

Only about 25 percent of applicants will get anything other than zero. It's not easy to score points for leadership when a student needs at least three examples to get credit. For instance, serving as student body president for one year looks good, but unless an applicant is also editor of the school newspaper and holding down a job, a reader won't give leadership points.

Generally, points for talent and perseverance are even tougher to rack up.

Only seven in a stack of 25 that Knox scours on a foggy January day will get points for any of the five categories.

Among those seven, Knox finds two with circumstances compelling enough to earn perseverance points - a judgment readers are trained to make carefully.

One is a girl who fled war-torn Afghanistan with her family and began to learn English only in ninth grade. She has two extracurricular activities listed (far fewer than the average applicant), but Knox recognizes persistence in the essay she writes about helping her family manage their $6,000 annual income after emigrating to the United States.

"This is pretty remarkable," Knox says. "She only knew how to speak Farsi until three or four years ago."

He scrawls a "P" on her application, netting her an extra 250 points.

Knox, a 53-year-old Army veteran and longtime university employee, is one of UC Davis' most seasoned arbiters of college promise. He does all his reading in his tidy office, where most days he advises veterans and disabled students on managing the demands of the campus.

He knows the selection rules cold, only occasionally needing to consult a five-page list of guidelines compiled by UC Davis faculty that suggest which activities, awards and circumstances should count for points.

Knox never looks at an applicant's name and rarely notices which high school he or she is from. Sometimes, he can't even tell if the student is a boy or girl. Knox looks at grades, but knows if an application has made it to him, the student's academic record already meets UC eligibility standards.

With reading glasses perched at the end of his nose, Knox comes across an application that lists only the Spanish Club as an extracurricular activity. There are no signs of awards or special talent. But near the bottom of page 3, a response catches his eye - this student has worked 25 hours a week for two years to help his mother. The family income is $22,000 a year.

Knox skips to the essays and learns that a father's gambling addiction ruined the family finances, forcing the student to work.

Proof enough, Knox decides, to give credit for perseverance.

"All people have bumps in their lives," Knox says. "What I ask myself is whether these bumps are extraordinary and whether they would have made high school difficult."

Knox shuffles through four more applications; none earn any "hits." The next one, though, is unusual.

It's a boy whose grades during his sophomore and junior years were all over the map - eight A's, six B's, 10 C's and a D. His SAT is 1180, three points below this year's average. But, he'll score an extra 500 points for talent and leadership: He's a musician who was an all-state orchestra member and an associate concertmaster in a Carnegie Hall program; he was also secretary, vice-president and president of the student council.

"It's not often that someone gets more than one hit," Knox says. "But it will probably end up being a wash because his grades are so low."

Each campus in the UC system has its own, customized version of comprehensive review. At some campuses, two readers review each application - three if there's a dispute. At UC Davis, most applications are read only once.

Application season runs from early December through February, and each week during that time, Knox and the other readers have a chance to gauge whether they are making the right judgments. In these "norming sessions," readers can consult with each other and supervisors from the admissions office on tricky applications.

Knox goes to a session in late January. During an hour of lively discussion, 16 readers talk through 20 applications that are troubling them.

Most questions are settled quickly and unanimously, such as whether the applicant who has taught Sunday school for several years should get credit for leadership. The consensus is yes: five hours a week for four years demonstrates a significant time commitment.

Or if the student who won national piano awards as a child in Korea should get talent points, even though he had none to show from his high school years in America. That's a no, because national awards from early childhood and other countries don't count.

Only one application raises any debate. A reader is vexed by a girl who describes a struggle with profuse hand sweating in one of her essays.

The girl, says the reader, wrote about her palms sweating so badly during her SAT exam that she had to pull her sweat-shirt sleeves over her hands to keep the test from getting wet.

"Shouldn't this be a case of disability?" asks the reader. "I really felt for her."

Another reader disagrees: "I think this would have impacted her socially, but it doesn't appear that it did academically."

Arnette Bates, associate director of undergraduate admissions and leader of the session, agrees that the girl's story is sympathetic, but not a case of disability.

Knox says it's rare for him to come across an application that stumps him. Of those he has reviewed this year, there have been fewer than 10 that "had me on the fence."

For all the hours he puts in, Knox won't find out if the 250 students he helped judge this year will get an offer or the dreaded thin envelope.

"I prefer it that way," says Knox. "I never feel like this kid will or won't make it based on what I do. It's a small part of the overall consideration."