Caie Kelley

College Tuition Crisis Hits Affluent Suburbs

As the nation braces itself for a potential slide off the fiscal cliff, middle class families across the country are increasingly staring down the precipice of another, equally dizzying abyss: college tuition. With costs rising in schools from California to Connecticut, parents in one Bay Area suburb are looking for ways to keep from going over.

Most are banking on scholastic or sports scholarships to do that.

Peter Li and his wife Amy live in Orinda, Calif., a wealthy enclave about 30 miles east of San Francisco. Despite the relative affluence of residents here, families like the Lis were not totally immune to the recent recession.

“We don’t have the resources to set aside money for our kids,” explains Amy Li, who moved to the Bay Area with her husband 16 years ago from their native Hong Kong. Since 2008, the family has seen its income fall steadily. Peter Li, a contractor, says orders have shrunk in recent years, while his wife, an accountant, has seen annual bonuses dry up, crimping their budget.

That’s why the pair is hoping their children’s academic achievements will help fund their college careers. “Both our children have strong GPAs, extra-curriculars, and volunteer service,” the mother explains, “so we are hoping that they will qualify for academic scholarships and need-based financial aid when the time comes.”

The Lis say they’d like their two sons – a freshman and junior in high school -- to attend a school within the UC system, “like UC Berkeley or UCLA,” where the estimated average annual cost per student, including living expenses, is around $30,000, more than three times what families paid 10 years ago. But with Orinda’s median household income topping $150,000, the Lis’ sons will likely not qualify for state or federal loans.

Still, rising costs haven’t dampened their enthusiasm for higher education. “Neither my wife nor I ever went to college, and I do believe the lack of higher education has hampered my adult life,” says Peter Li. “It is important to us that both of our kids go to school, even if paying for it will not be easy.”

That attitude puts the Lis and their neighbors squarely at odds with a growing number of middle-class families across the country.

According to a recent study, some 20 percent of American families earning between $50,000 and $250,000 a year say that college is no longer a worthwhile investment. Many cite weak job numbers and mounting post-graduation debt.

For those who do have kids in college, about three-quarters rely on some type of financial aid, whether in the form of grants, scholarships or loans. In 2011, more than 21 million families filled out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA), up 49 percent from the year before. Over the past five years, total education borrowing – including federal and non-federal student and parent loans -- climbed 24 percent to $113 billion in 2011-2012, according to a report from the non-profit College Board.

Average student loan debt for 2011, meanwhile, jumped 5 percent from the year before to $26,500. Much of that has fallen on parents.

The latest government data shows that 11 percent of student loans are delinquent, up nearly 9-percent from a year ago.

“Of course I’m concerned about the cost of college and student loan debt,” says Margaret Rass, an unemployed single mother who lost her job last year due to company-wide downsizing. While she’s managed to put away about $30,000 in a college savings plan, she is still hoping for some form of government aid to ensure her daughter attains her “educational dreams.”

Rass says she is convinced college will allow her daughter, a senior in high school, to “be better off than I am. Many, many people go to college these days, and I don’t want her future to suffer because we don’t have the means to pay.”

For others, meeting their children’s tuition expenses could come not through the classroom, but on the field.

Another family that asked that their last name not be used hasn’t seen a stable income since the father lost his job as a financial banker two years ago. Though his previous salary would have been enough to cover tuition for the family’s three children, both parents are hoping their eldest son’s academic and athletic prowess will secure him the funding he needs.

“I’m hoping he’ll be able receive some scholarships,” says Dana, the mother of a 16-year old high school junior who currently plays three varsity-level sports and has a 4.6 weighted GPA. “Borrowing money and graduating in debt is not ideal,” she adds, “but we do want [our son] to attend a university and we will try to finance it as best we can.”

Her eldest son is hoping to be recruited by Stanford, Dartmouth, UC Berkeley, and Columbia, though where he eventually applies will depend on which school offers him the best deal. The National Collegiate Athletic Association awards about $1 billion in athletic scholarships each year to around 126,000 undergraduate athletes.

Like their neighbors, the family’s commitment to providing higher education for their children is fueled in large part by concerns about financial and job security. But it also comes from a deeper, traditionally American view of college, one that seems to be increasingly on the wane.

“[My husband] and I met at college and we believe the entire experience is an important one,” says Dana. “We wouldn’t want him to miss out on that four-year opportunity.

Is the iPad Undermining Student Curiosity?

“Go ahead and highlight that passage in green,” my teacher instructs the class, informing us it will link to an online explanation. My fingers slide across the screen. “Give me my Romeo,” declares Juliet, “And when I shall die/take him and cut him out in little stars.”

Our class has been struggling through Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet for several weeks now, and it’s a relief to be able to understand the story. Someday, I think, these little gadgets will do all the teaching.

Which is sort of the plan.

“Over the next few years,” declared U.S. Education Secretary Arne Duncan on Tuesday, “textbooks should be obsolete.” Pointing to countries like South Korea, which plans to go fully digital by 2015, Duncan stressed the role of technology in ensuring American students remain competitive. “This has to be where we go as a country,” he said.

My high school recently adopted a new pilot program, where incoming freshmen are handed their own iPad, containing textbooks, online materials, and interactive educational games. The reasoning is simple: backpacks become lighter and the school saves money on books and other supplies. The iPads are returned at the end of the year, any damage must be paid for, and the machine can then be handed over to the next bunch of students.

“You think I understand Shakespeare?” a classmate snorts. “I need these iPads! So yes, I may mess around and download apps and goof off. But when I need to focus, Romeo and Juliet is there, and so are all the educational apps to help me understand it.”

Online tools like “Sparknotes” and “No Fear Shakespeare” are there at your fingertips to help recount the story in simpler language, while Youtube videos offer varying interpretations of critical scenes, including new takes where Juliet loses cell phone service and can’t text Romeo about her plan.

But even with the aid of these online tools and videos, I’ve struggled with much of the text. And while they have made understanding more convenient for some, they’ve also made me less willing to invest time in studying the actual text before submitting to the will of “No Fear Shakespeare.”

“Fetch me my rapier, boy,” cries Tybalt as Romeo enters the scene. “What, dares the slave/come hither, covering with an antic face/to fleer and scorn at our solemnity?” After one read, I think I get the basics. Tybalt, a Capulet, is mad that Romeo, a Montigue, is at the celebration. But what is a rapier, why is Romeo covered with an “antic face,” what does “fleer” even mean, and why is the party called a “solemnity”?

No longer willing to struggle with the text, I Google “Romeo and Juliet Sparknotes,” which summarizes the scene in a couple of paragraphs. I learn that an “antic face” is in fact a mask, “fleer” means scorn, and the “solemnity” is indeed a party.

With technology, I don’t even have to try to read much of the original. I miss the lines that foreshadow Tybalt’s eventual death and give the reader a glimpse into his easily angered personality.

Ultimately, digital education is a part of our future. After all, we are the gadget generation, the ones who have been emailing and texting since elementary school. We are the emerging group of students for whom using Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube is practically second nature. To us, what question can’t be answered by Google?

Research by the National Academy of Sciences suggests technology encourages learning through, among other things, greater access to information. Several studies have even indicated that the student achievement gap is narrowed when a school adopts these new digital programs.

The response to the pilot program among teachers and students at my school has so far been positive. When a student doesn’t understand a math lecture, for example, she can click on an educational website or an interactive game that will explain the subject to her in a different way.

“Students use the iPads for note-taking, research, writing, and a host of other creative and productive tasks,” my teacher tells me. “We talk to the students about what it means to be a digital citizen and how technology is a great tool, but also how it must be used responsibly.”

He says he has seen a jump in student interest since the iPads have been put into use, but he adds that because this is a trial program, if the tools don’t improve performance the school will return to more tried-and-true methods.

I look around my classroom. The boy to my left is engaged in an intense battle of “Fruit Ninja,” his fingers deftly swiping across the glass screen. In front, one girl checks her email while another takes what must be the millionth “selfie” on her camera application.

To my teacher, our iPads are in full use. Students appear engaged, even mesmerized by the pages in front of them.

As I stare down at my own screen, I realize that I’ve developed a habit of submitting to my annoyances rather than accepting the challenge of trying to grasp what I can before turning to other sources. I have no lessons in patience, only a reliance on the here and now.

As we’ve become faster and more connected, in society and in the classroom, it’s only natural that our technological prowess be reflected in our education. But in our rush to digitize Shakespeare, it’s worth keeping in mind that how we learn is sometimes as important as what we learn.

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