On the occasion of paying off my student loans
Freedom: You’ve got to give for what you take (inspired by the fact that I just finished watching *Keanu*)
From 1993–2005 I accumulated a student loan debt of approximately $25K, which covered tuition and living expenses at three different state universities in fairly low cost-of-living areas (Alabama-Huntsville, Florida State, and UNC-Chapel Hill). This is actually not all that much for 12 years of higher education, considering that many schools now charge upwards of $50K/year. I have friends who amassed much more than I did.
By a strange symmetry, for nearly an equivalent number of years I have been paying off my debt to society, by which I mean my creditors whose loans were backed by the federal government. I imagine I probably paid twice as much as I borrowed, but I really don’t know.
I’m happy and relieved to report that now, two months shy of my 42nd birthday, I have officially paid off this debt in its entirety. I have no regrets; it was clearly the only way I could receive the education I am so happy to be enjoying to this day and hopefully for the rest of my life. But none of it has come easy. I worked at least 20 hours per week all through college and much more in the summer doing most of the crap jobs you know of (facilities assistant at my dorm, ham carver at the Old Country Buffet, “cart boy” at Sams, stock room boy at Radio Shack). In my sophomore year I lost over 25 pounds because I couldn’t afford to eat more than one meal on most days; on two separate occasions I borrowed money from one of my professors (which I paid back, btw). I never took a year off “to find myself” or delayed my progress through various programs in any way. In graduate school I benefited from several generous fellowships and teaching opportunities (at one point teaching a 3–3 load at Chapel Hill in classics and in the composition program).
As I reflect on this nearly 25-year journey, I feel a manifold ambivalence. I am first and foremost grateful for the opportunity I have had to grow as a person from my education. I’m grateful for the the many adventures — riding in broken-down cars, consuming experimental meals, and finding serendipitous secondhand furniture — and the many lasting friendships I had trying to survive on the bare minimum. I’m grateful for the support of all those who helped me however they could. I’m grateful for the lifelong character-building that occasioned this journey (resourcefulness, financial planning, self-reliance, independence). I’m filled with reverence, awe, and envy for those who have pursued a good education under way worse circumstances than I, including many of my students over the years. I also experience a mix of envy, superiority, and even pity for those whose education was served up to them on a silver platter. I feel ambivalence even as a parent, as I find myself doing everything I can to create a world for my daughter in which she, too, eats from that silver platter. Yet I worry I may be depriving her of her own personal growth in doing so (but what kind of cruel parent does not want to give a child all that they did not have???).
I am tempted to conclude from my ambivalence a simple rule, that it is best to respect the strivers from any walk of life, both those who have more than us and those who have less, and to show disdain or disinterest for those who just don’t put forth effort commensurate with the resources and emotional support provided by their communities. In other words, if you are born on third base, it’s best not to imagine that you got there by your own efforts: try hard to steal home just the same, praise all who helped you do it, and get as many others to third base as you can.
But of course my fancy, elitist education reveals to me that life is not this simple: “striving” itself is the result of genetics and environment, at least in part. I can personally attest to the latter factor in my own life. I have had at least half a dozen amazing mentors over the years who have “activated” me to strive for something greater in myself. Even in my early childhood I had such good friends who challenged me and and looked out for my best interests. So, maybe the lesson is that we should all just do everything we can to activate the best in others and in ourselves. That sounds cheesy, but it’s perhaps the most we can do.
And we should also see to it that everyone has the opportunity to receive a higher education, even if it means paying off student loans until partway into their fifth decade on this earth.
