When I finished high school, I enrolled in the school
of hard knocks. My dad was an alum as was his father, so I was expected to keep
the family tradition alive. On my first day of class, I was greeted by an angry
man in a Smoky Bear hat. It was soon obvious to me that someone had forgotten
to inform him how special I was or that I identified as privileged. He had much
to say about me, my family, my hometown, and just what I was entitled to. It
was difficult. To this day I believe it was made that way on purpose. Something
was said about difficulty teaching me a lesson about life.
Later, because I was privileged, I was able to go to a
“real” college. All I had to do was work a minimum of forty hours a week making
minimum wage, help raise four children, and take out a loan from my employer.
It was difficult. But I can’t say I wasn’t warned. On the first day of nursing
school, the instructors advised everyone in the class not to try doing both.
When I graduated, the
employer who loaned me thousands to go to school reneged on the pay he
promised me. I left for greener pastures, but you know what? He insisted that I
pay him back. A judge agreed with him. It was difficult, but I paid for it all. Not
one of the five men who were President in those years ever mentioned that it
was possible for the government just to “forgive” my debt.
In fact, of the debts, and there have been plenty of them
through the years, the government hasn’t offered to forgive a single one—and did
I mention that I’m privileged! It is my privilege to help pay for those weeping
about how difficult it is to pay back the loans they took out for their college
education.
I don’t expect anyone eligible to pass up the money. The
insanity behind the “forgiveness” is not on the recipients of it. What galls
the hell out of many of the alumni of Hard Knocks is that the recipients feel
they are entitled to the money and should be spared life’s difficulties.
In hopes of deflecting any further anxiety in those entitled
to attend a university, here’s a soothing poem that’s also nonsense.
Ignore the Loanerwock, my son,
The terms
that bite, the debts that catch!
Ignore the Workwork bird, and shun
The hoary
Repaycatch!
Sorry, Mr. Carroll.
Maranatha
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