The student loan borrowers who will continue to struggle

The Supreme Court has barred the Biden administration from carrying out its plan to pay off up to $20,000 in federal student loan debt, and millions of borrowers will continue to struggle under the weight of their loans.

These are students lured by aggressive for-profit institutions whose lofty promises of higher earnings never materialize. They are borrowers seeking advanced degrees often required for low-paying but essential jobs in social work, the classroom, or the courtroom.

These are the women who are taking a break from the workforce to care for the family and have been unable to find their way back to the salaries they previously had.

Here are brief sketches of people in other circumstances like this who have struggled and whose challenges are likely to continue.

No degree, but all debts

Gina McDavitt, 36, is one of millions of borrowers with student debt but no college degree, a group more likely to slip in default.

She tried to complete her degree in her early twenties while working as a bra fitter at Macy’s and took the most practical route: she started at the College of San Mateo, a community college, and planned to transfer to San Francisco State University.

But the classes needed to complete her associate degree weren’t always offered, forcing her to wait until they were. Meanwhile, the cost of attending mounted – but her Pell scholarship and loan didn’t qualify, and she soon struggled to make ends meet.

“I was effectively priced out,” said Ms. McDavitt, who left school with about $3,000 in loans, which ballooned after several suspensions. “So I have like $8,500 in student loans for a degree that would be free right now,” she added, referring to programs who make community college free for eligible students. “That coupled with, I live alone, I’ve had the same role for a while and I’m in the Bay Area and it’s very expensive here. I struggle.”

Ms. McDavitt, who lives in Vallejo, California and works in customer relationship management for a transportation company, said she was passed over for several promotions because she didn’t have the required degree. She recently trained someone who promoted for her.

“As it stands, the amount I’m making won’t cover my bills,” said Ms McDavitt, whose loans defaulted just before the pandemic broke out. “I am a single person making less than $55,000 a year with no college degree. The weight of the world rests on my shoulders.”

Mrs. McDavitt is eager to go back to school but can’t afford it.

When Monica Schmidt, 44, gave birth to her son in 2008, she was in her hospital room finishing a major thesis. Five months later, she received her BS in Nursing from the University of Phoenix.

She then pursued a master’s degree, which would elevate her to a nursing specialist and give her the opportunity to teach. Her husband, a sales manager at a food company, worked during the day while she took care of their children, who were 1 and 4 years old at the time. At night, she worked full-time as a supervisor in a skilled nursing facility while attending classes at Northern Illinois University.

“We couldn’t afford childcare, so we worked opposite shifts,” says Ms. Schmidt, who lives in Genoa, Illinois, and now works as a school nurse at a therapeutic day school.

But after three years of starting and restarting, juggling became more of a struggle with their young children, and in 2013 she stopped her course work. The guilt, however, was hers to keep. She now owes $64,000, more than half of which is for her graduate work.

Once her payments start again, she will pay about $450 a month for the next 25 years, or until retirement. She has made 52 of the 120 eligible payments for the government loan forgiveness program, but she would have to pay about $900 a month, an amount her family cannot afford, especially as she saves for retirement and college education. her two children.

“I don’t want them to be in the same situation as me,” Ms. Schmidt said.

Another kind of black tax

Recent student loan graduates like Dorien Rogers, 23, face a constant buzz of questions in their heads: pay off extra debt or start a savings plan? Can I afford to buy a house in the community I grew up in? (In his case in Montgomery County, Md.) What about money to start a family someday?

As a black man, Mr. Rogers is aware of that Black people are more likely to have to borrow and that Black women often struggle the most with student debt.

Asha Anthony, 20, an upcoming senior at Howard University, leaves college with a BA in legal communications and about $30,000 in loans. But she’s already thinking about how she’ll fund her dream of becoming a civil rights attorney, which typically requires an extra six figures in student debt.

She’s already had help from her mother — who raised three daughters, with the help of her parents, while she was single — and who will have accumulated at least $30,000 in parental loans by the time Ms. Anthony graduates. Yet her mother still pays off her own student debt.

“I am determined to go to law school because it is a high priority for me, as it is for many young black people, to be able to attend graduate school and achieve the goals I have set for myself,” said Ms. Anthony, who grew up in Mesa, Arizona. “It’s disheartening when you think about potential costs because my family can only provide so much on top of what I can.”

Mr. Rogers also has lofty ambitions. He took out extra loans last year and started an online master’s degree in public administration. At the same time, he worked as a substitute teacher and DoorDash driver and served as president of the Maryland Youth and College Division for the NAACP. He wants to go into politics and sees education as a kind of national mandate, especially for people like him.

“Education is a tool for improving our communities, and higher education institutions have been critical in moving our nation forward,” he said.

With a bachelor’s degree in political science from Salisbury University in Maryland, he can’t help but wonder: If lawmakers chose to help the nation’s banks during the 2008 financial crisis, why don’t they believe people like him are worthy of similar investments? are?

“If you can cancel debt, you will see reinvestment in the economy,” he said. “Home ownership. Build credit. Start more families.”

The parent trap

Federal PLUS loans for parents are a product tailored for problems, and there’s no sign of that changing any time soon.

That’s because parents can borrow up to the cost of their child’s entire education, no matter how much they earn. In addition, many high-cost but low-resource schools send financial aid notices to students telling them to make up their own shortfalls with tens of thousands of dollars from these loans.

Now imagine you have three kids, are separated from your spouse, and make only $11.50 an hour after raising them for years. That was the predicament Joanna Leiserson found herself in when she lived in Spokane, Washington, in 2000 and her oldest child was about to start college.

PLUS loans were the only way to pay for the schools that best suited her children’s needs. After years of not being able to make the payments — she became an Episcopal priest in 2005 — and being out of debt, she’s finally in a means-tested installment program and has consolidated her $157,000 debt to allow her to enroll for public service. Loan forgiveness program. Her debt would be eliminated if she works another nine years. Otherwise it could easily be with her until she dies.

“It weighs heavily on me,” she said. “I’m not sure if it’s true, but it feels like society will pay if I don’t.”

But any taxpayer subsidy is an established public policy, based on laws that both Democrats and Republicans have signed over the years. And then there’s the matter of a higher power that might have an opinion on it.

“I believe that God does not weigh in on the details of our debts, but rather wants us as a community to consider our nation’s policies and underlying principles and values ​​and question whether they are in line with God’s values,” said the Rev. Lewisson. “That is a community in which all people can live sustainable lives in dignity and respect.”