A Strategic Calculus
I was not told the final amount of financial aid I would be receiving for my first semester at Yale until I was close to a third of the way through that semester. (Yale Financial Aid treats divorced persons with a greater degree of obstructionism than the Catholic Church.) One October afternoon, I saw the email with “the number” as my freshmen seminar was ending, and I ran out to call my mom. The scene is crystallized in memory; my mom crying at work, me crying in front of the Yale School of Architecture, in disbelief at our fortune and the generosity of an institution we had already become a bit jaded towards. I have now been at Yale for more than a semester since; my attitude towards Yale’s financial aid policy remains ambivalent, their generosity remains capricious, and their motives remain indiscernible.
Roughly 48% of Yale undergraduates do not receive financial aid. If the financial aid calculators are to be believed, this means that these students or their parent(s) or guardian(s) are in possession of wealth or assets disqualifying them of financial need; Yale is not giving them any assistance because they don’t need any assistance. It is not a stretch to assume that the responsibility of paying for the student income contribution is thus not left to the students in question but covered by the parent(s) or guardian(s) in possession of the disqualifying wealth. The student contribution places a stipulation upon my education, and my time here at Yale; I am fortunate because my mother and I are able to work together to afford it during the school year and summer, but many students at Yale must pay for the student income contribution entirely by themselves, and work many more hours than me. Students in such a position are effectively told that they must work harder and sacrifice their time (the most valuable resource here at Yale), often eschewing extracurricular activities or a heavier course load, in order to prove that they belong here and are as deserving of their education as their wealthier classmates.
As a student on partial financial aid at Yale, every decision I make during my time here, from paying for amenities and small comforts to choosing summer plans, classes, and extracurricular pursuits, is weighed as part of a strategic calculus I must perform, in light of the tens of thousands of dollars of debt I will meet when I graduate, and the thousands of dollars I must pay now while I am still at Yale. I am not afforded the freedom of taking classes or pursuing extracurricular activities purely for purposes of enrichment; I must weigh and estimate their role on the formulaic construction of the “perfect student experience” on paper that can best ensure employment and acceptance to a successful graduate program upon graduation to increase the expediency with which I can pay off the debt my mother is accruing.
Roughly 48% of Yale undergraduates do not receive financial aid. If the financial aid calculators are to be believed, this means that these students or their parent(s) or guardian(s) are in possession of wealth or assets disqualifying them of financial need; Yale is not giving them any assistance because they don’t need any assistance. It is not a stretch to assume that the responsibility of paying for the student income contribution is thus not left to the students in question but covered by the parent(s) or guardian(s) in possession of the disqualifying wealth. The student contribution places a stipulation upon my education, and my time here at Yale; I am fortunate because my mother and I are able to work together to afford it during the school year and summer, but many students at Yale must pay for the student income contribution entirely by themselves, and work many more hours than me. Students in such a position are effectively told that they must work harder and sacrifice their time (the most valuable resource here at Yale), often eschewing extracurricular activities or a heavier course load, in order to prove that they belong here and are as deserving of their education as their wealthier classmates.
As a student on partial financial aid at Yale, every decision I make during my time here, from paying for amenities and small comforts to choosing summer plans, classes, and extracurricular pursuits, is weighed as part of a strategic calculus I must perform, in light of the tens of thousands of dollars of debt I will meet when I graduate, and the thousands of dollars I must pay now while I am still at Yale. I am not afforded the freedom of taking classes or pursuing extracurricular activities purely for purposes of enrichment; I must weigh and estimate their role on the formulaic construction of the “perfect student experience” on paper that can best ensure employment and acceptance to a successful graduate program upon graduation to increase the expediency with which I can pay off the debt my mother is accruing.
