by Yvette Walker
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but reader interest in my recent Public Service Loan Forgiveness column has been high. And why not? Many people either know someone who has a school loan, is a relative or guardian of a borrower, or owes student debt themselves.
I’m a borrower, too, and worked for public universities for 12 years.
I’ve heard from many of you all over the country, and some from participants in the Mohela loan system in our own backyard in Missouri. Your stories are compelling, sometimes unusual, but always mention hard work.
Jennifer Kronk, a licensed clinical professional counselor in Chicago, received her forgiveness of $160,000 doing hard work as a clinical social worker. She helped people with chronic mental illness. “My job was intense and stressful and I loved so much of it. So, I really feel like I earned my forgiveness.”
Dr. Paula Gerstenblatt is a professor of social work in Portland, Maine. Her loan forgiveness story is different from some. Gerstenblatt had a Parent Plus loan, which is a federal loan that parents of dependent undergraduate students can use to help pay for college. Like all loans, there can be confusing information. She credits the loan forgiveness Facebook group moderators with helping her sort things out. She received forgiveness of $125,000 in June. “Reading everyone’s victory posts and stories on the PSLF group page has been an inspiration and elucidated how failed and predatory this system really is.”
And then there’s Nick Kenney, who lives in Cape Girardeau, Mo. Nick is a professor and the interim chair of the department of music at Southeast Missouri State University. He plays the French horn. He’s married with a 2-year-old little girl. And like many, his path to public service loan forgiveness was a cacophony of paperwork, permissions and procedures.
“I thought it was a joke at first. Are you kidding me right now?” he said when he received a letter from the Department of Education saying his work as a professor at various schools would count toward loan forgiveness. “I knew at that moment that everything would work out.”
Kenney owed $96,000 in student loans, and they were forgiven this summer. But taking on debt wasn’t his first choice. His original plan was joining the military, where college would be paid for. But he changed his mind.
“When I decided not to, my family didn’t have the money (to put me through college) and I had to do it on my own.” That meant taking out loans. Kenney said he knew that if he went into public service, he could get the loans forgiven one day.
“It was like taking a chance on myself,” he said, knowing that teaching music wouldn’t be lucrative, “especially teaching in the arts or areas that don’t pay well. You just don’t get offered the same kind of money if you’re teaching business, for example,” he said.
Costs of education continue to rise, while state allocation of resources to public universities dwindle. Loans often are the only way to go for students. And if you’re offered a congressionally approved 2007 program that will forgive your loans for a career of public service, you should get what you’re promised.
Kenney’s story is important in another way. He said he didn’t feel entitled to the money, but he wanted the choice he made to pan out. When he received the letter, “It was the moment I knew I made the right choice.”
With lawsuits threatening plans to reduce billions in student loans, Kenney and I want to emphasize that forgiveness shouldn’t be for people who just don’t want to pay back what they borrowed. “Any kind of help for people who are legitimately trying to pay their loans back is good,” he said.
The future for Kenney minus nearly 100 grand in debt?
“My wife and I already talked about how this much changes life for us. The ability to increase our savings and save for our child’s future … her college plan, so she doesn’t have to take loans.”
That’s something both sides of the aisle should agree on.
