Five days after President Richard Brodhead and the Board of Trustees ushered in their sweeping modifications of financial aid-to the tune of $6.7 million in increased student assistance a year-my parents cut their final check to Duke University. Barring any sort of complications (namely the likelihood of re-upping my dismal FLEX account before semester's end), this is the last transfer of funds they will ever make to my Bursar account.
It was cause for celebration.
But less than celebrating the closure of my 21-year-old, ultimately drained tuition fund, my parents were rejoicing the realization of a bottom line they could never have anticipated when I was admitted four Decembers ago: despite the daunting $180,000 sticker price, Duke permitted us to negotiate a half-off bargain. After adding up their bi-annual checks, my parents found that my education had amounted to around $90,000 (approximately, we figured, what it would have cost for me to attend a state school in my native California).
So there you have it: firsthand evidence that the goal of this University to nix money out of the enrollment decision equation is, to at least some degree , working well. The incessant questions (How could you pass up UCLA or Berkeley?) are confidently answered: Duke gave me its education for the same price. And no doubt, the watershed of expanded assistance to an estimated 2,500 undergraduates beginning next fall, will turn out increasingly grateful and relieved sets of low- and middle-income parents.
The changes, made public Dec. 8, eliminate parental contribution for students from families whose income is less than $60,000 a year and will eliminate loans for all students from families that make less that $40,000 a year. In addition, the University expects to cap loans at $5,000 per year for students from families making more than $100,000 and anticipates decreasingly graduated loans for families making less than $100,000. President Brodhead has for the duration of his nearly four-year tenure touted financial aid as his priority issue. "The strength of the University depends on its ability to select and recruit students on the grounds of ability, dedication and promise, not on a family's financial circumstances," he said in a news release accompanying the changes. This ideal of "need-blind" admissions and enrollment-Duke's concession of comfort to its anxious prospective parents-is consistent with the policies of peer institutions, particularly the über-well-endowed.
While Duke has been grinding away at a cost-reduction solution for years-highlighted by the 2005 Financial Aid Initiative (which has currently raised $240 million of its $300 million goal)-the recent decision by the Board comes at a time when private universities with multi-billion-dollar endowments have been facing hard-nosed pressure from Congress to pass fruitful investment returns on to its students. Led by Sen. Charles Grassley, R- Iowa, the Senate Finance Committee is turning up bipartisan support for spending legislation that would require schools with assets greater than $500 million to spend 5 percent of their endowment principle annually, the same rule that applies to private foundations and their giving to charities. Duke witnessed a $1.1 billion return in the fiscal year ending June 30, 2007, bolstering its endowment from $4.5 to $5.6 billion, an increase of 25.6 percent. This kind of cash, Congress reasonably argues, should be used to increase the affordability of tuition.
Though Princeton may call itself a trailblazer of reform, having instituted its financial aid policy to eliminate all loans for students qualifying for need-based aid in 2001, the last two months have seen several highly visible universities championing new approaches to paying for college. On Dec. 10, just two days after Duke publicized its decision, Harvard unveiled its new plan to eliminate loans for all current and entering undergraduates, regardless of income-introducing the curious idea of the six-figure-income scholarship student. The University of Pennsylvania is expanding its existing no-loan policy for low- and lower-middle income families that will eventually include all undergraduates. Tufts is replacing loans with grants for undergraduates whose annual income is below $40,000. And Yale, as recently as mid-January, said it would increase the amount of money it spends from its endowment, instituting changes comparable to Harvard's. Responding particularly to the hassling from Congress, Yale President Richard Levin said on Jan. 7, "The folks in Washington are saying you're hoarding money. And we felt uneasy about it ourselves."
Despite a sticker price that is outpacing inflation (Duke's all-inclusive total has risen from $42,540 to $48,240 in my four years, an increase of about 13 percent) the financial aid revolution is making college more affordable for low- and middle-income families. But the direct impact of the changes-particularly on student life-will not be discernible for several years.
In all likelihood, socio-economic diversity will grow, and ultimately contribute to the richness of the student body. More low-income high school seniors will likely choose Duke-as has occurred at places like Harvard since it enacted changes to aid in 2004-as the University relishes its new affordability threshold. Some parents will be happier and some students will graduate into less debt, while others-namely wealthier families-will be forced to pay more, as it is the corollary notion of the financial aid revolution that those who can pay, ought to pay. In addition, Duke-along with Harvard, Princeton, Yale, and others-may see its desirability skyrocket; as if the elite schools weren't already coveted enough, they are now doubly attractive because of their increasing assistance with educational costs. Yet despite these more long-term effects, how will the financial aid revolution manifest itself in the daily lives of students?
This university and its surrounding community do a tremendous job financially normalizing the student body. Beginning our first year, we are acclimated to a living situation in which we sleep in roughly the same 200 sq. ft. rooms and more-or-less operate in a cashless "society." There are very few venues to flaunt wealth-and at the opposite end of the spectrum-to feel kept out, left behind, or inferior because of limited means. Though because of this, the limited flaunting venues tend to be emphasized. For example, "luxury" goods like fancy cars, high-end clothing and accessories, meals at the Washington Duke Inn, and notably extravagant vacations tend to magnify, in some people's eyes, the differences in student means. But on the whole, tremendous gaps in socio-economic standing just don't have the outlets on this campus or in Durham that they might in, say, a place like New York City.
The richest and poorest among us take the same courses, eat the same food, and pay the same reasonable price for drinks in town. The notorious histories of both subtle and not-so-subtle snobbery at America's elite colleges are cut down by this normalization. Of course it exists, and absolutely it will continue to persist at certain levels, but I believe that Duke has given us the mechanisms to muddy up the socio-economic divide on this campus.
Many elite universities, particularly the ones that have over the last several decades increasingly sought to eliminate the "too expensive" dismissal by low-income families, have still harbored what New York Times reporter Eric Konigsberg calls the "upstairs-downstairs syndrome." This is the divide between rich and poor that extends beyond tuition, into the realm of unpaid research, unpaid internships, and study abroad-opportunities that less wealthy students may not be able to take advantage of.
Duke has successfully addressed the "syndrome" through programs such as the Career Center's internship funding, University research grants, and DukeEngage. While Duke's financial aid does not cover the costs of other universities' unapproved study abroad programs-perhaps one of the lingering echoes of the "syndrome"-Duke has permitted us to participate in nearly all available opportunities, and, on several fronts, has enabled us to take back much of what we spend.
As a tour guide, I often try to steer prospective families' distracted minds away from the sticker price. Though the costs are exorbitant, many of the activities we participate in, events we attend, research we conduct, and music-playing gadgets we are given are "free." A teaching assistant of mine last year invited close to a dozen persons of interest to campus through Duke Conversations. His goal for the year-at least in rhetoric-was to spend as much of the University's money as his family was putting into the coffers.
For as long as you and I can remember, wiser people in our lives have passed on a genuine, yet rather empty nugget of advice: make the most of it. School, life, whatever. Because it's difficult to savor the thought of college without the bitter association of its expenses, I recommend this additional solution to the cost of education: spend as much of this school's money as you possibly can.
The financial aid revolution is underway. Half of your parents will be paying less money next fall. Half of your parents will be paying more. Regardless of who you are and what you pay, do your best to take it back. The money is sitting there-for funding, grants, awards, travel, concerts, speakers, plays, and basketball tickets-making its 25.6 percent return per annum, crying out to be consumed.
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