The FGLI College Welfare Shakedown

A weeknight knock on my fraternity room door usually meant one of two things. Perhaps one of the guys in the house wanted to discuss the finer points of science with my Phi Beta Kappa astronomy/physics double major roommate. The universally more likely reason was not to quench the thirst for knowledge but to douse a dry throat from my perpetually-stocked beer fridge. By instinct my hand had almost opened a can when I was startled to hear a voice ask for ten dollars. “Vince got arrested and we need cash to bail him out, otherwise he’s going to stay all night at the police station.”

n one of those you-only-see-this-on-cop-shows-moments, Brother Vince had been pulled over by the local constabulary for, yes, a broken taillight. While sober and otherwise law abiding, he had missed a court date to adjudicate a speeding ticket and thus had an outstanding bench warrant. In a moment of clarity unusual for college students, Vince had the presence of mind to have the fraternity phone number memorized and not use his proverbial one call back home, thus tipping off his parents that he had recently taken the family ride 40 miles over the speed limit. My Hamilton, along with those from the other guys, promptly sprung him and he returned with an embarrassed, beet-red face that no Hollywood makeup artist could have hidden.

I hadn’t thought about this for nearly thirty years until an otherwise unremarkable article in my alma mater’s Daily Northwestern newspaper caught my eye. The headline talked about an emergency fund moving across bureaucratic responsibility lines and I thought this could be a feel good story about the University stepping up when a student’s family encountered some terrible misfortune. To my surprise, the story included a student complaining about a delay in receiving her check to cover airfare for…a visit to her sick grandmother. In such family crisis situations a university can, and should, help its students by rearranging paper and test deadlines. In a similar vein, over the years I have had to ask my bosses for bereavement leave, which was graciously granted every time. And while not lacking for compassion when it comes to grandma, this begs the bigger question: when did private universities become welfare offices?

The answer lies in the newest campus culture crusade—the first-generation, low-income (FGLI) college student. In the traditional narrative a student from meager means overcomes their circumstances and works hard in high school, thus earning a hefty (or full) scholarship for tuition, room, and board and then works the crappy dining hall dishwashing line for book and movie money. The family chips in where they can and a collective sacrifice elevates the student and society. With an $80,000 a year price tag, reality has left any discussion about college costs; sadly, so too has personal responsibility when receiving charity.

Today our FGLI student is a “victim” who always needs more “help” in college. Even on a full ride there is a never-ending set of expenses for which somebody else is expected to pay. The “Student Enrichment Services” site racks up an impressive list of this aggrievement. Need a long-term laptop loan? No problem (although it begs the question how you filled out that free electronic common application). Want to hit a ballet performance downtown as part of the dance club? Somebody else will pay for it, “to help reduce the financial burden these activities may cause students.” Need a winter coat? Suit up for free (and all that climate change aside, how did you not know that Chicago is cold in the winter). Next thing you know, people are going to ask if you need food stamps. Actually there’s a suggestion and link for that. I’m not sure what color the FGLI flag flies, but it probably should be the dollar-bill green of accountability-free liberal guilt. After graduation these kids are in for a shock when their manager doesn’t offer an $800 United gift certificate along with time off to go mourn Uncle Zippy’s passing.

There’s still a bone I have to pick with Vince as I don’t think I ever got my ten bucks back. Maybe he used it to pay off his ticket, learned his lesson, and banked the rest for beer money, which suits me just fine. Unfortunately, I also now know that my modest annual fund contributions to Northwestern go to something far less educational.

© 2019 Alexander W. Stephens. All Rights Reserved.