When my partner and I tied the knot, we were deep in the trenches of graduate school, scraping by on what I like to call “instant noodle poverty.” Our wedding ceremony was a casual affair, officiated by a random biker in a bandana, with a friend holding up her phone so my mom could listen in from Florida—flights were simply out of our budget. I still remember the ache in my chest as I wrote that $80 check to the biker; it felt like a fortune at the time.
During those student years, we braved the brutal Cincinnati winters in a frigid studio apartment, unable to afford heat. Despite juggling part-time jobs alongside our studies, we often found ourselves without a car, trudging through the snow to get to class or relying on the bus for longer trips. Our fridge was practically a barren wasteland.
Fast forward to today, and I now have kids aged 10 and 6. My partner and I have set up college savings accounts for each of them, contributing monthly since they were born. While our savings fluctuate with the market, I anticipate that these funds will cover a year or two at a state school—definitely not enough for a full four-year degree, especially if they dream of attending a private university.
One might assume that, having faced financial challenges in my own college years, I would be eager to fill the gap. But I refuse to do so. Just like I had to navigate my own educational path, my children need to learn to do the same. Many believe that parents should shoulder the burden of funding their children’s college education, but I respectfully disagree.
Part of my reasoning is purely practical. Sure, my partner and I could dip into our retirement savings to cover their college costs. But at what expense? I want to enjoy our golden years, not fret over dwindling funds spent on an education that may or may not translate into careers. I’ve seen too many families become financially dependent on their children later in life, especially when those children are busy managing their own expenses. I’d rather they face student loans than the anxiety of nursing home bills.
More importantly, I want my kids to experience the value of independence. I want them to work hard, seek scholarships, and pursue financial aid. They can start at a community college and then transfer—whatever it takes to achieve their goals.
I financed my own music performance degree largely through scholarships and a few loans. While I may have chosen a niche career path, the money was available, and I seized it. Now, as a freelance writer and social media manager, I’m doing what I love, and I learned some of my most valuable lessons outside the classroom.
I have no regrets about the hardships I faced. In fact, I take pride in my ability to manage on a shoestring budget, and I want my children to develop that same resilience. If a little struggle can teach them fortitude and resourcefulness alongside their algebra II and economics, then I’ll consider it a wise investment of my time and energy.
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In conclusion, I believe that allowing our children to take charge of their education fosters independence and prepares them for the real world. Though we may not cover every expense, the lessons they learn will be invaluable.
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