A 1963 Broadway musical provided a catchy tune that could serve as an anthem for parents and elders today, and probably going back to those dwelling in caves: “Kids! . . . Why can’t they be like we were, perfect in every way?” Armed with hazy memories and convenient myths, younger generations seldom measure up to elders’ expectations.

In our current debate over student loan debt, it’s tempting (and a fact) for me to say, “I had to borrow money for college, but I worked hard to pay it back. No one forgave or reduced my debt.” There’s also the “They knew what they were getting into” argument: students weren’t tricked into something they didn’t understand (although truly understanding the weight of $100,000 or more in debt as a young worker is beyond most of us).

With our financial well-being affecting every part of our lives, the transfer of wealth from a strong and dominant middle class to a tiny percentage (upper 10%, 1%, and .1%) in just a few decades, with the support and encouragement of elected officials, has been stunning. I blame greed and a lack of empathy at the highest levels, and American capitalism which makes it possible and predictable.

But that doesn’t explain the increase in higher-education costs. Children were once encouraged to save for college by starting a savings account with $1. Today, that 1972 dollar equals $7. But does anyone think childhood earnings today might pay for tuition that averages about $37,000 at American public universities for four years, with many top schools charging $300,000-400,000 for a degree.

Some calculations add to my puzzlement. Using the University of Northern Iowa as an example (the first of two that put up with me), which currently sits just below the average U.S. tuition cost, I found that with inflation, my $600 yearly tuition in 1972 would be equal to about $4,200. But if a grandchild were to enroll today, their cost would be over $9,400, a 125% increase — on top of inflation. UNI is not exceptional in this regard: higher education costs have gone through the roof all over the U.S.

One reason is that our government (controlled by those busily concentrating wealth and power in their own hands) has reduced its contributions to higher education (and other society-building investments), with federal support now less than half of the 1972 level (adjusted for inflation).

Older people did work hard to pay back their loans, without government help. But what if the debt was more than double in terms of spending power, like today? Where would we be on the earnings curve, and how many of us might have defaulted?

And yes, students then and now know what they’re signing up for. If the debt will be too great, we say, don’t borrow in the first place. But what’s the alternative?

We encourage young people to work hard to achieve an American dream. But buying a home and establishing a secure career requires a college degree. Graduates average 84% more income than those with a high school diploma, and are less than 50% as likely to be unemployed. If college debt might be a crushing burden (as it is for many currently) and we suggest they avoid it, we are telling them to accept a life at the lower margins of our society — socially and economically.

College debt isn’t discretionary spending for young people with dreams. It isn’t like spending on a new car, fashionable clothes, a fancy meal, or cheap vacation. It’s required, an exorbitant entry fee, to even hope to advance up the ladder.

And the Supreme Court just handed down bad news: President Biden’s plan to forgive some of their debt was ruled unconstitutional. I’m not a constitutional scholar, but recent decisions by our Supreme Court justices show that they aren’t either. Our country’s social values are once again called into question when there’s an unavoidable catch involved in young people’s futures: Don’t go into debt for college and accept your place in low-paying jobs for a lifetime, or borrow as needed and then find your debt prevents you from taking advantage of your hard-earned degree for years to come.

It doesn’t make any more sense than requiring people to pay high prices for preventive health care and insurance, or putting more guns in schools and on the streets to make them safer. I actually was a math major way back when I started at UNI, and I know these equations just don’t add up.

Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com. 

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