Institutional Debt – Lifetime Regret

I wasn’t able to go home because of my institutional debt.

During my freshman year of college, I struggled mentally, unable to handle both the pressures of school and the pandemic. My academics suffered, and I ultimately had to withdraw from the quarter. Unbeknownst to my family and I, we received a bill two months later stating that I needed to pay the school $10,000 in order to return. This added salt to an already open wound. Instead of focusing on my mental health and recovery, I had to find a job to start paying off my debt. Because of this institutional debt, I couldn’t re-enroll in college until I had paid it in full, delaying my graduation.

I had to take summer classes during my third year to stay on track for graduation. By that time, my mom had started to get sick. That summer, however, her illness worsened significantly. I desperately wanted to drop my classes and go home to care for her, but I couldn’t. I was told that withdrawing would delay my graduation and require me to repay the financial aid I had received—pushing my graduation even further. So, when my family needed me the most, I stayed at college, working to ensure I could continue my education.

Institutional debt—and the fear of accumulating more—prevented me from being there for my family. If I had lost my mom, I know I would have lived with the lifelong regret of not being there when she needed me most.

Student, UCLA, CA

The Reality of Institutional Debt

Debt is often seen as an unavoidable part of the college experience, but for many students, it is more than just a financial burden—it is a barrier to success, stability, and future opportunities. My journey with institutional debt has shaped my perspective on higher education, financial responsibility, and the need for reform in repayment options. While no one looks forward to repaying their debt directly to their college, restructuring and simplifying repayment options could make the process less burdensome, allowing students like me to focus on building a future rather than being trapped by past financial obligations.

My path to higher education has not been straightforward. Before transferring to Azusa Pacific University, I spent time working, interning, and volunteering in roles that reinforced my passion for advocacy, education, and community impact. I found fulfillment in bringing people together, uplifting marginalized voices, and working behind the scenes to foster meaningful change. These experiences led me to pursue a degree in psychology with the hope of becoming a teacher or school social worker—careers dedicated to serving young people who, like me, may have faced obstacles on their path to success.

However, financial challenges have often dictated my decisions about education and the future. Institutional debt, in particular, has been one of the most frustrating barriers. Unlike federal loans offering structured repayment plans and certain protections, institutional debt can leave students in financial limbo. If unpaid, it can prevent enrollment in future classes, restrict access to transcripts, and even block graduation—effectively shutting the door on opportunities students have worked so hard to earn.

The burden of financial instability became even heavier after I lost my home in a fire. That experience reinforced how quickly circumstances can change and how crucial it is to have support systems in place. In times of crisis, education should serve as a source of stability and hope—not another source of financial stress. Yet, for students in debt to their institution, the risk of losing access to education due to unpaid balances can make an already difficult situation feel impossible to navigate.

Reforming repayment options for institutional debt could significantly impact students like me, ensuring that financial hardships do not derail educational and career goals. One of the most beneficial changes would be the introduction of income-driven repayment plans, which adjust payments based on a student’s financial situation. Rather than requiring immediate full repayment, this approach would allow students to make manageable contributions without sacrificing essentials like housing, food, and transportation.

Another essential reform is the expansion of forgiveness programs for students entering service-oriented fields. As someone pursuing a career in education and social work, I know these professions—while deeply fulfilling—are not known for their high salaries. Forgiveness programs could provide a pathway for students like me to pursue meaningful careers without the constant worry of debt accumulation. These programs should reward commitment to underserved communities, encouraging graduates to work where they are most needed without being financially penalized.

Advocating for these changes is crucial. Without reform, institutional debt will continue to trap students in cycles of financial strain, limiting their ability to fully pursue their aspirations. Universities must take responsibility for ensuring that their students have fair and transparent repayment options, offering financial counseling, emergency aid, and flexible solutions that prioritize student success over rigid debt collection.

Restructuring repayment options would mean greater financial security and the ability to focus on my long-term calling: mentoring and supporting young people. Instead of constantly worrying about paying off institutional debt while balancing school and work, I could dedicate my energy to preparing for a career that makes a difference. The current system forces students to choose between survival and their dreams, but with thoughtful reform, we can create a future where education is a stepping stone to opportunity—not a financial trap.

 DJ, Anthony Gaffield, CA