I’m experiencing a bit of a rage stroke and need to vent my frustrations before I punch an innocent wall. And though our liar-liar-pants-on-fire president certainly has warranted several of my recent hypertensive episodes, today I’ll be complaining about a more mundane topic, the cost of college (I haven’t the space for a Trump tirade!).
My husband Doo and I have four children, the oldest of whom is a sophomore at an in-state university. Our twins are seniors in high school, and our youngest is a freshman. We have saved enough to pay for one year of college for each of them, with the understanding that they will be responsible for the rest through scholarships, loans and part-time work. Oh, the naivety!
For starters, we have perfectly wonderful, but perfectly average kiddos. No top athletes, artistic phenoms or academic wunderkinds here. We also make too much money. Not me, of course; I’m a teacher in Indiana! But Doo does well enough that financial aid isn’t in the cards, so even if they stay close, they will have to come up with $75,000 each for undergrad.
Why not just borrow? Well, government-backed loans only cover about a fifth, and a 20-year old who works part-time reffing intramurals and selling Cutco knives doesn’t qualify for a private one. So, if said young adult wants to remove the hold on his registrar’s account, pay rent and eat, his mom has to Venmo him cash and then become a co-signer. Multiply that by three more moochers (two of whom are hell-bent on heading west), and you see why I’ve been eye-balling that wall for the past 30 hours.