When my partner and I tied the knot, we were knee-deep in graduate school and living on a tight budget—what I like to call “ramen noodle poor.” For our wedding, we had a biker officiate the ceremony while a friend held her phone so my mom could listen from Florida, as we couldn’t afford to fly her in. The biker charged us $80, and writing that check felt like a huge financial burden.
During our college years, we braved the harsh winters of Cincinnati without heat in our tiny studio apartment. Despite both working part-time jobs while studying, we couldn’t manage to pay for gas. We walked through the snow to class and relied on public transport for longer trips. Our fridge was often bare.
Fast forward to today, and I have two children, aged 10 and 6. My partner and I have established college savings accounts for each of them since I was pregnant, contributing monthly. The fluctuating balances have reflected the ups and downs of the stock market, and based on my calculations, these accounts might cover a year or two at a state school. However, they certainly won’t fund a full four-year education, especially if my kids dream of attending a private institution.
You might think that, given my own college struggles, I would be inclined to fill the financial gap for my children. However, I have no intention of doing so. I believe it’s essential for them to learn how to navigate their own education funding. Many people feel it’s a parent’s duty to ensure their children can attend the best—often priciest—schools, but I see things differently.
Part of my reasoning is self-serving. While my partner and I could financially support our kids’ college expenses by dipping into our savings and making sacrifices, what would that ultimately gain us? I want to enjoy our retirement years without the stress of financial strain, particularly when I’ve seen firsthand the importance of planning for a comfortable life post-work. Paying for our children’s entire education could even make us financially reliant on them during our later years, which is the last thing I want, especially as they may face their own educational costs.
More importantly, I want my children to develop independence. I want them to hustle for their education, to seek scholarships, and to figure out where to find funding. They can take out loans, work hard, and perhaps start at a community college before transferring to a four-year institution. Whatever it takes to achieve their goals.
I financed my music performance degree entirely through scholarships and a few loans. While I may have chosen a niche major, the funds were available, and I made the most of them. Now, I work as a writer and social media manager—careers for which I had no formal training. The most significant lessons I learned weren’t from textbooks but through my own financial challenges.
I’ve never regretted living frugally during college; in fact, I take pride in overcoming those hardships. It brings me comfort knowing I can manage on a tight budget if necessary. I want my kids to gain that same sense of resilience, even if it means they have to face some struggles along the way.
If a little hardship equips my children with qualities like determination, resourcefulness, and independence, alongside their academic learning, then I will consider it a worthwhile investment of my time and resources. For more insights on this topic, check out this blog post, which discusses the importance of self-reliance.
Summary
The author reflects on their own college experience, emphasizing the importance of financial independence for their children. They express a desire for their kids to navigate their own education funding rather than relying on parental support, believing that overcoming challenges will help them develop essential life skills.