When my partner and I tied the knot, we were navigating the tight finances of graduate school. We were what I like to call “ramen noodle broke.” Our wedding was an unconventional affair, officiated by a random biker in a bandana, surrounded by friends. One friend even held her phone so my mother could listen in from Florida, as we couldn’t afford her flight. I wince even now at having to write an $80 check for that service.
During our time as students, we braved the harsh winters of Cincinnati without heat in our small studio apartment. Despite juggling part-time jobs and class schedules, we struggled to pay the gas bill. We walked through snow (uphill, both ways, ha!) to get to lectures, and relied on the bus for longer journeys, with our fridge often bare. We were solely responsible for financing our education with minimal assistance from our families.
Fast forward to today, I have two children, aged 10 and 6. My spouse and I set up college savings accounts for each of them during my pregnancies, contributing monthly. While the account balances fluctuate with the market, I estimate they’ll cover a year or two at a state institution—certainly not enough for a full four-year degree, especially if they choose a private university. One might assume that, given my own college struggles, I would be inclined to make up the difference. But I have no intention of doing so. Just as I had to find my way, I want my children to do the same.
Many people believe it’s the duty of parents to ensure their kids can attend the most prestigious—and often expensive—schools at any cost. I see things differently. While my partner and I could afford to cover their education, potentially draining our retirement funds, I question the wisdom of that choice. We would risk undermining our financial stability in our later years, possibly relying on our children when it’s their turn to face tuition costs for their own kids. I’d prefer them to handle student loan debt rather than nursing home expenses.
More importantly, I want my kids to embrace independence. I want them to strive for their educational goals, pursue scholarships, and seek out financial aid. They should take out loans, work jobs, and consider starting at a community college before transferring. I earned my degree in music performance, funded largely through scholarships and minimal loans. Sure, I should have pursued a double major given the niche nature of my field. Nonetheless, I found the resources and made it work. Now, I enjoy a fulfilling career as a freelancer and social media manager—roles that no degree could have fully prepared me for.
I have never regretted the hardships I faced during college; in fact, I take pride in having managed on my own. It has instilled in me a valuable skill set: the ability to live frugally and the assurance that I can thrive with less if necessary. I want my children to develop that same fortitude, even if it means they have to face challenges along the way.
If a little struggle leads to my kids learning resilience, resourcefulness, and independence—alongside their academic subjects—then I consider it a wise investment, even if it means spending less.
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In summary, I believe in allowing my children to take charge of their own educational journey. While I’m here to support them, I want them to learn the value of hard work and independence along the way.