I know the world probably doesn’t need another hot take on student loans in this country. I know I’m probably yelling into the void. But there’s a reason I’m going to anyway, and not just because I’m in charge here. It’s because in spite of everything, I think education is still important. I swear it’s not just my bias as a librarian talking.
I had a US history and government teacher in 11th grade who told us at least once a week how important our schooling was. “Your job, your money, your boyfriend or girlfriend, all that can be taken away from you,” she said. “But your education is really the only thing that’s yours. Nobody can take that time and effort, that piece of paper, that knowledge away from you.” I was 16 at the time — precocious and passionate but super anxious and crawling out of my skin — and yearning for more. Her words stuck with me.
In my house, college was a given, not an option. My dad dropped out after less than a year on a soccer scholarship in North Carolina. My mom decided to forgo nursing school to get out of the classroom and make money instead. They wouldn’t let their kids make the same mistakes; we would do more than they did, they said. My dad pushed us especially hard about how we did in school; we didn’t have to be the best, but we had to try our best. To him tough love was motivation, the way a coach tries to make his athletes play at their full potential. It didn’t work for me all the time, but something did click.
I’ve loved books since before I could read, which for me means I’ve always loved learning. I had to keep myself entertained a lot of the time, because as much as I tried I often couldn’t keep up with my siblings and neighborhood friends as they climbed trees, shot baskets and played kickball. At home I was lonely, but in school I could explore and grow in ways I couldn’t at home. Books, and later the internet, were the way I bridged that gap. It was something I could control, something I didn’t need anybody else’s help to do… which was really important for a kid whose headstrong brain didn’t stay in sync with their body. I made the choice and my body listened.
The thing was, I was never freakishly smart. I had to try — my brain has never processed sequential or spatial information very well. I understand concepts, but doing math equations in the right order by myself was a struggle. Memorizing how cell division worked step by step was hard. Taking the directions art teachers gave me from my head to a piece of paper was time consuming. It made me feel stupid, because I was so good at everything else. I knew dates and historical figures, I breezed through books. My strong subjects picked up the slack for the weaker ones.
I knew I’d never go to Harvard or NYU, but I wanted to keep learning; in the classroom and about myself. I wanted to keep feeling like I could do something, show that disabled people are intelligent and able to contribute something meaningful, and deserve to be heard. I wanted to know if the world really was open to me. With time, I’ve learned that it is, and that I am capable. I adored being in a place where I could expand my horizons further, stretch my mental muscles, play to my strengths. I got my bachelor’s from a small school not far from where I grew up, not my first choice. My parents thought it would be easier to commute, and better in the long run to go to a less expensive school. I got my master’s from a public city college, which I honestly wish I’d been able to do the first time.
A college education still has value, but the cost hugely overshadows that value. Without my education, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish half of what I have. But having over $70,000 in debt from my education puts a sour, ugly taste in my mouth. Why should 18 year olds be made to sign up for that? “Average Americans” see the price tag for a college degree and assume it’s not for them. People who could thrive in a university get guided away because it’s assumed they’re filled with rich elitists with superiority complexes. Kids who are smart, curious, driven get saddled with tens of thousands of dollars of debt for something they’re told they need. Something that will make their lives better, make them more comfortable, make them productive. In reality, student debt makes our lives worse. Our parents and grandparents want us to support ourselves, have independent lives, and participate in society; so many of us can’t, either partially or fully, before we’re even 25 years old.
It makes it seem like the time and effort weren’t worth it. That what you learned not necessarily from a degree but from college itself — how to think critically, how to form your own opinions, how to solve problems on your own — was a waste of time. The answer isn’t to push kids away from college: it’s to put more value on what they give students than what they give the government. Our government could survive without the payouts from our loans; anyone who says different is predatory and evil. Us surviving without education being available — the American people, our society, our culture — is questionable.