We Don’t Have Money, We Don’t Have Time 

by Jem Ashton

Typically, transfer students come from dis-privileged backgrounds – students who have to take one less class each semester due to life obligations outside of school and will need an additional year or so outside the parameters of the federal funding limits, students from underserved communities where opportunities of monetary acquisition are limited to demanding minimum wage jobs, or students who don’t have a federally approved immigration status. They choose to start their journey into post-secondary school in a community college or two-year institution because it is the one thing they can really do on their end to save money. These are the students who need financial assistance the most. Unfortunately, the aid these individuals need will likely go to white, middle-class kids who have the time and parental support necessary to dedicate their time to applying, staying within temporal thresholds, and straight up just being in the right place at the right time. Pathways to accessing financial aid are often restricted to privileged positions. 

According to the National Association of Colleges and Employers, over 25% of recent college graduates owe more on their student loans seven years after graduating than they did at graduation. Paired with the fact that starting salaries seem to be on a downward trend, it can be hard to feel like working towards a college degree is the right choice. For many middle- and lower-class students, debt is the only certainty. With stagnant wages and the insufficient availability of subsidiary assistance, it is not a matter of budgeting or saving. College Board reports that the average cost of an undergraduate degree in the US is just over $26,000. A full-time employee working for the federal minimum wage, which is at this time $7.25, makes about $15,000 annually. That is just under 60% of the average cost of an undergraduate degree. If a student is willing to forego every single other life expense (an impossibility), they would be able to make enough money to pay for four years of tuition. If they’re lucky, they could afford all the textbooks and additional class materials, too.  

Of course, there are also scholarships, for which students commit to the emotional labor of begging for money and defending their character to win the favor of generous rich people who are kind enough to toss a bit of money to the poors each year.

Fortunately, there are resources available to students to help them avoid a scenario where they have to work for two years straight without food, shelter, etc. Resources like the well-known FAFSA, which is as rife with complicated accessibility issues and unassured promises of a fruitful end to students’ labor as any other financial resource. Federal financial aid is limited and restricted – even more for students who come from life circumstances outside of the traditional, white family unit that the program was essentially designed for exclusively. Of course, there are also scholarships, for which students commit to the emotional labor of begging for money and defending their character to win the favor of generous rich people who are kind enough to toss a bit of money to the poors each year. Thank you for sharing the fruits of our communal labor. I savor the flavor but wince at the lingering aftertaste of grotesque wealth inequality. Students can also find resources through their institution of choice: directories of compiled links to external resources, posters around campus urging students to sell their plasma to help pay for their textbooks, and maybe a handful of budgeting workshops throughout the semester that students can find time to attend between their work and school obligations. These resources are completely inaccessible for a significant portion of students or would-be students.  

When students are able to access these resources effectively, they do make a difference. They are appreciated. They are important tools in increasing our communities’ access to post-secondary education. However, they’re not enough to compensate for the fact that the cost of attending college and the cost of living have more than doubled since the 1970s, while the resources available to students haven’t changed much. The reward for earning a degree has also declined, despite the increasing challenges in the process of earning one. Increased social mobility is no longer a guarantee. The only people who are sure to benefit from the paradigm of our education system as it stands are those who have power already, which doesn’t benefit the whole of our community. What we need is a system that earnestly intends to benefit our community in its entirety and the best way to ensure that is to create one in which money is no longer a barrier. Every individual has earned their worthiness of an education simply by being.  



Jem Ashton

Growing up in Utah, Jem has been steeping in the Utah ecology since birth – from the towering urban pigeon-scape of Salt Lake City to the rolling and jagged deserts of the South. This lifelong relationship with the varied landscapes and communities of Utah has instilled in Jem a passion to contribute meaningfully to the local ecology, both urban and wild. They graduated from the University of Utah with a BS in Writing & Rhetoric Studies and a Certificate of Book Arts in 2022.