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My husband and I were not able to save for our kids’ college educations. My older son went to community college and most of it was paid for with grants and scholarships. Now my younger son is a senior in high school and has his heart set on an expensive private school. Call us naive, but to say we have sticker shock would be an understatement. Even though he was given a very generous package and is pursuing scholarships, it will still cost $30,000 a year, $120,000 over the four years. If he were to borrow this money it would leave him with crippling debt. We are not in the position to pay this or take on the loans ourselves. We want him to live at home, go for two years to a public university satellite campus, then move to the main campus as a junior for a total cost of about $50,000. Our state university is one of the top public universities in the country. My husband’s family thinks we are doing him a great disservice by not co-signing for his loans or taking them ourselves. Are we short-changing our son?
I promise you all of you will feel short-changed and sold a bill of goods if your son’s college degree means that you and your husband spend the rest of lives sweating to pay it off, or that your son starts his adult life with a staggering financial burden. Now is decision time for students weighing college options. It used to be people thought a college degree (especially an elite one) was a ticket to a financially secure life, and that going into debt to obtain one was a good investment. There is no doubt college graduates fare better in the marketplace, but today people are far more aware of the potential dream-crushing effect of college debt, and that it can carry lifetime consequences, including the fact it can virtually never be discharged. Some interesting research has shown that the value of a “prestige” degree, at least as far as future income is concerned, is vastly overrated. Read this essay on the outstanding educations and opportunities to be found at schools ranked below the most celebrated, including many of our public universities, which about 80 percent of students attend. You say your state school is one of the country’s best, while the private school your son has his heart set on you describe merely as “expensive.” Good for your son to have identified and been accepted to a dream school. That shows he has drive and ambition, which are two crucial qualities he will need in the real world. For him right now, reality looks like it means making the most of the opportunities at his state school. If your husband’s family thinks the private school is worth it, they are free to step up and make it possible. In the absence of their largesse, you should stick with your plan of getting your son the best education you can afford. I recommend that you thoroughly research your aid options—start with this government website. Before you put down a deposit, talk to both the private and state school and make sure you’re getting every (debt-free) dollar available. If the dream school doesn’t offer substantially more cash, everyone should be delighted with the public alternative. But since he is surely ready to give up his boyhood bedroom, it would be a great gift if you found there was grant money available to make it possible for him to start college life on the main campus this fall.
Several years ago I was enrolled in a Ph.D. program at an Ivy League university. About halfway into my second year I fell into a deep depression. I realized my proposed dissertation was garbage, and that I didn’t want to pursue a career in academia. Somehow I passed my classes, and at the end of the school year I left abruptly. I had confided to one professor that I was unhappy. He said that my most significant paper would qualify as a master’s thesis and knew I had enough credits, so he suggested I submit it and get the master’s. I couldn’t even do that. Then my computer died and I lost most (though not all) of my work; it was one of the greatest weights ever lifted off my shoulders. Now four years later I am the happiest I have ever been, but I’m looking back with regret that I didn’t follow through. I have the knowledge that a master’s degree from a prestigious university represents, but I do not have the piece of paper. (No way can I redo the work.) My life is great and I love my new career. My work is only tangentially related to my old field, so should I just completely put this out of my mind forever? If so, how?
This is not so much a higher education question as a computer backup question. Everyone back up everything, multiple ways! I was recently at the Apple store with a hard drive problem and one of the tech people told me about a woman who came in weeks away from defending her doctoral dissertation and all her years of meticulous research was on a laptop that was unsalvageable. She had backed up nothing. Obviously, for these kinds of customers there needs to be someone at the Genius Bar authorized to prescribe sedatives. I’m glad you’ve dug yourself out of that terrible trough and have found happiness and professional success. It’s understandable that now having regained your equilibrium, you realize a master’s from an Ivy League university would look nice, especially since you essentially earned it. But you don’t need it, and you’re not going to redo the work. (However, if you have that dead computer stashed somewhere, it would be worth it to see if the paper you already wrote could be disinterred from it and then submitted.) You can accurately put on your résumé that you studied Old Norse mythology at a big deal university, even though your only connection now is that you trade Scandinavian bonds. Make peace with this by remembering your joy when your computer gave the coup de grace to your academic career, and by celebrating that you didn’t stick it out, collecting debt and wasting years pursuing what for you was a dead end.
About a year ago, I loaned a large sum of money to a former co-worker with the understanding that he would pay it back. His salary is low, and money is always tight for him. I earn a generous salary and have plenty of money in savings, although I am still working on establishing myself financially. When I loaned him the money I understood that there was a significant chance he would not pay me back. A year went by without any contact from my former co-worker, and I assumed that my “loan” was effectively a donation to him and his family. The loanee has recently contacted me and told me he is going to start paying me back bit by bit now that he has gotten a raise and is not living paycheck to paycheck. Do I accept repayment, when I have enough money and he is still making much less?
—Forgive or Collect?
I bet everyone in straitened circumstance wishes they had a flush and generous friend like you. You were right to consider that such a loan may by default become a gift. This awareness would save a lot of hurt on the part of people who serve as banker for friends and family. But now that your former colleague has risen from the deadbeat, I think you should honor that fact. After all, you say you are in decent, but not cushy financial shape. Probably this past year your friend has woken early in the morning and felt the crushing weight of this loan. Now that he can afford to send some money, you don’t want to dismiss his pride at dealing with his obligation. But after you have gotten a certain amount back—you decide how much—then consider if you want to waive the rest. You can explain you’re grateful for the repayment, but you’re happier that his family is benefiting from their better circumstances. If he then insists on making good on the whole amount, let him.
I work in a really great office and I have the best boss I have ever had with one exception: Every time my boss walks by my office he makes flatulent noises with his mouth. I am the only one who has the pleasure of hearing it because my office is between his office and the break room and everyone else sits rather far away. I love that we all joke around and say things that would not fly in most places, but this noise makes me want to throw something at him. He is not doing it at me, it is just something he does. It’s like his version of whistling while walking the halls, something I used to do all the time until I was informed that it bothered some people. Do I say something? Do I just resign myself to cringing every couple of hours for the rest of my career?
At least you have the self-awareness to recognize you were oblivious to the annoyance you were causing others when you let fly with your own mouth sounds around the office. Now that you’ve reformed, you take a rather rigid view of your boss’s acoustic virtuosity. You were able to stop your whistling when its obnoxious nature was pointed out to you. But it’s possible your boss has less control over his clamor. Maybe he has a tic, and after suppressing the mouth farts for hours he trots to the break room in a frenzy of release. From your own description this happens only briefly, a few times a day, and it’s not actually directed at you. You’ve become sensitized to it, but instead of confronting him, work on yourself. Smile as he passes, grateful that he’s not passing something else. Laugh to yourself about how primitive all of us humans can be underneath the business attire. You say he’s the best boss you’ve ever had, so when you hear him tooting his own horn, just acknowledge your good fortune. And if you continue to find it hard to take, consider that your office isn’t frozen in amber, and it’s unlikely all of you will be together for the rest of your careers.
More Dear Prudence Columns
“What Happened Next: Unforgettable Prudie letters of the past year—revisited.”
“Necessary Disclosure: My friend hasn’t told his partner he has HIV. Should I do it for him?”
“Too Sexy for Your Love: My girlfriend dumped me because I’m too good-looking.”
“My Love Won’t Speak My Name: My actor boyfriend keeps me a secret so no one will find out he’s gay.”
More Dear Prudence Chat Transcripts
“He Becomes Her: In a live chat, Prudie advises a woman falling out of love with her transgender husband.”
“Look Ma, No Hands!: In a live chat, Prudie counsels a woman who caught her son in a compromising position with the vacuum cleaner.”
“Et Tu, Grandma?: In a live chat, Prudie advises a young man whose grandmother wants proof he’s not the product of an affair.”
“I Was Once a Bully: In a live chat, Prudie counsels an ex-bully now tormented by guilt.”
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