A friend of mine has begun teasing me that I've pioneered a new career path--that of a College Negotiator. It all started quite innocently a year ago. As our oldest daughter began looking into potential colleges, I began looking into what it would take to get her accepted, and then to get her college tuition paid. It's probably not a coincidence that I also started buying Rolaids and Tums in volume at that time.
"$51,000 a year," she said. Did I hear that right? Does she know that I just want my daughter to attend classes, not have a wing of the school named after her? FAFSA? What's a FAFSA? Wasn't that the name of Simba's father in Lion King? Scholarships? Grants? Loans? Move the bottle of Tums to the nightstand.
In the end, my daughter's decision came down to two schools--one that offered a very generous scholarship up-front, and one that offered nothing... save that $51,000 price tag. As you might imagine, my daughter's first choice was the latter--high price tag, no relief. "But Dad! I really want to go there!" Let me be completely honest: I wanted her to go there too.
So I made a call. It only took a moment or two to figure out the student-assistant in the Admissions department would not be able to help me. My problem, after all, was a $51,000 problem. A second call. This time to a decision maker. A wonderful lady, but she herself with a limited ability to help. Times being what they are, dollars and cents being... well, dollars and cents, it didn't look promising from the get-go. I persisted. We kept the lines of communication open. I researched the school. I learned everything I could about their Admissions history, their grant monies, their student body. I researched my contact--the nice lady who was giving her all to help me, I gave my all to understand her and treat her (and the school in general) with the utmost respect. I was, indeed, asking them to move mountains for me.
Literally dozens of calls, scores of emails, why, even a few Facebook friendships later--and a full four days after the deadlines and our having made a commitment to the other school--this college came back, having found the necessary funds to make it possible--my daughter enrolled at the school of her dreams. A financial needs grant for $30,000 a year was literally invented for her. That with some help from Simba's dad, FAFSA, makes it possible.
Oh, but you can't stop there. There is still about $6,000 a year that we have no real plan for how to contribute. And there are the loans that are a part of the FAFSA package that we'd like our daughter not to have to rely upon.
A friend who had walked the road of scholarships and grants with her children came quickly to our aid. Turns out, there are many dollars out there. Many! But you had better be ready to work for them. And work we have--my daughter has written a flood of essays, we've collected a file cabinet full of recommendation letters, become a professional at smiling, saying please and thank-you and following up. We've participated by kicking her in the backside every step of the way. For us, these dollars are make-it or break-it. Our oldest daughter is the first of four... and number two is on the college launch-pad. And it is paying off. She's already been awarded a couple of scholarships. We're hopeful for a couple more. She applied, at last count, for more than thirty. We've already begun gathering information on scholarships and grants for her second year.
Here's what I've learned: Getting your kid into the college of their heart's desire is a job. It's a job that I've taken like a game. I'm learning to play it by their rules--but with my tenacity. I have a feeling that I'll be at this game for years to come.
This week I've undertaken another impossible college landing. A young friend of mine from Namibia has his heart set on an Ivy League school and a future in medicine. They'll need to accept him. They took in 19,000 applicants to fill 1,100 spots. Sure. No problem. He doesn't have any money and won't qualify for any aid--so the school is going to have to give him a full ride. Is that all? Let's dance! Give me a number. I'll make a call.
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