Tag: American
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American Sororities: Class, Race, Gender, and the Return of "Tradition"
At flagship universities across the United States, predominantly white sororities remain popular institutions. They offer young women a ready-made community, social capital, and access to alumni networks. But behind this appeal lies a system that reinforces race, class, and gender hierarchies—at a time when women’s rights are being rolled back nationally.Race and Class Tradition: Who Belongs, Who Does NotSororities are not only racially homogeneous but also heavily skewed by class. Recruitment practices, legacy ties, and financial obligations ensure that sorority life remains a domain for the affluent.At Princeton University, 77% of sorority members are white, compared with 47% of the student body overall.Socioeconomic trends are even starker. In 1999, 31% of Greek-affiliated students at Princeton identified as middle-class, but by 2024 that number had dropped to 14%. Over the same period, those identifying as upper-class doubled from 14% to 28%.At the University of Mississippi, 48% of high school graduates in the state were Black in 2021, but only 8% of first-year students at Ole Miss were Black. White-dominated Greek life continues to thrive in this climate of underrepresentation.A multi-campus study found 72% of Greek members identified as middle- or upper-middle class, compared with just 6% from low-income families.These figures reveal how sororities work to reproduce the advantages of affluent white families. Membership offers exclusive networking, internships, and social connections—often denied to working-class students, students of color, and first-generation college students.Gender TraditionSororities also sustain a vision of femininity rooted in conformity, beauty standards, and heteronormativity. Social events are structured around fraternities, placing men as hosts and leaders, while sorority women serve as companions or supporters.While some sororities claim empowerment through philanthropy and sisterhood, the cultural framework continues to emphasize women’s value through appearance and deference, not leadership. This pattern reflects broader societal pressures to restore traditional gender roles.The Broader Context: The Right to Choose LostThe Supreme Court’s 2022 reversal of Roe v. Wade has had profound consequences for women in the U.S.More than 25 million women of reproductive age now live in states with abortion bans or severe restrictions.States with the most restrictive abortion laws show a 7% increase in maternal mortality overall, and 51% higher rates where laws require procedures only from licensed physicians.The loss of Roe’s protections especially harms women of color and low-income women, who already face barriers to healthcare and mobility.Against this backdrop, sororities’ popularity at flagship universities is revealing. These organizations celebrate conformity to class privilege and traditional gender expectations, while millions of women outside those circles see their reproductive freedoms curtailed. The alignment of sorority culture with conservative visions of femininity makes them more than relics of tradition—they become cultural reinforcers of the very inequalities deepening in U.S. society.Why Class MattersSocial class is at the heart of the issue. Sororities provide access to powerful networks that translate into internships, job placements, and lifelong advantages. These networks overwhelmingly serve the wealthy and exclude those already disadvantaged by race, class, and gender.At a time when women’s bodily autonomy is under political attack, the popularity of predominantly white sororities signals how elite spaces continue to consolidate privilege for a narrow group of women—while the majority face shrinking freedoms and growing precarity.SourcesPrinceton Greek life demographics (tcf.org)Princeton Class of 2024 socioeconomic trends (dailyprincetonian.com)University of Mississippi racial disparities (hechingerreport.org)National Greek life class survey (vox.com)Women under abortion bans: 25 million affected (americanprogress.org)Abortion bans and maternal mortality (sph.tulane.edu -

American Financial Solutions and Borrower Defense to Repayment
[Editor’s Note: The Higher Education Inquirer has submitted a Freedom of Information Request F-2025-02034 for any Federal Trade Commission consumer complaints against American Financial Solutions. We expect student loan relief scams to grow over the next few years as federal government oversight is reduced.]
American Financial Solutions (AFS) positions itself in social media as a lifeline for student loan borrowers, offering help with programs like Borrower Defense to Repayment (BDR), PSLF, closed-school discharge, teacher loan forgiveness, and income-driven repayment. They advertise a “95 percent success rate,” more than $25 million in loans discharged, and over 10,000 clients helped. AFS promotes a three-step approach: a free consultation, documentation collection, and federal application submission—with implied guarantees of approval. They even suggest that discharges can occur in as little as 12 to 36 months.
Behind this polished marketing is a disturbing reality. When contacted directly, AFS quoted a $1,500 fee to file a Borrower Defense claim. The Department of Education provides this service for free, which makes the fee an unnecessary financial burden on people already struggling with debt. Worse still, AFS representatives falsely claimed that approval would be “guaranteed” because the borrower’s school was named in the Sweet v. Cardona settlement. That is not how the Sweet settlement worked, and no private company can guarantee outcomes in federal relief programs.
AFS also collects a troubling amount of data from borrowers. According to its own disclosures, the company asks for names, contact information, educational histories, student loan details, financial information, and documentation of borrowers’ school experiences. It also stores communications and any additional information provided. Beyond that, the company automatically harvests website usage data, including IP addresses, device and operating system information, pages visited, time spent on the site, referring websites, and even search terms. This means that vulnerable borrowers are not only charged excessive fees but also exposed to unnecessary risks regarding their personal and financial data.
While AFS presents itself as a nonprofit credit counseling agency with A+ BBB accreditation, consumer complaints suggest a lack of transparency and responsiveness. One unresolved 2024 complaint alleged billing issues, with the consumer insisting they were not liable for a debt and had no contract, while the company failed to respond. Independent review platforms show a mix of praise and criticism, with some clients reporting successful debt management experiences, but others raising questions about hidden costs, communication problems, and misleading claims.
The bigger problem is that AFS fits a well-documented pattern of predatory practices in the student loan relief industry. Over the past decade, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB) have repeatedly shut down companies that charged for free government services, misrepresented their powers, and lied about forgiveness guarantees. In one case, the CFPB shut down Student Aid Institute, only to see its operator resurface under a new name and steal more than $240,000 from borrowers. In another, Monster Loans and its associates were sued for defrauding over 23,000 borrowers. The FTC has also acted against multiple operations that bilked millions of dollars from borrowers by pretending to be affiliated with the Department of Education. Even Navient, a major loan servicer, agreed in 2024 to pay $120 million after deceiving borrowers about repayment options.
The risks to borrowers are increasing as federal oversight weakens. In 2025, reports revealed that the CFPB planned to scale back enforcement of student loan cases, leaving state regulators—who often lack resources—to fill the gap. Critics warned this would create “open season” for scammers. Against that backdrop, companies like AFS are free to charge high fees, collect sensitive data, and make deceptive promises while vulnerable borrowers remain unprotected.
American Financial Solutions is not a solution. It is part of the problem, a business model that profits by charging people for free services, misrepresenting the law, and exposing them to new risks. Unless stronger oversight and enforcement are restored, borrowers will continue to be victimized first by predatory schools and then by predatory “relief” companies cashing in on their desperation.
Sources
American Financial Solutions marketing claims. amerifisolutions.com
AFS data collection disclosure (website policy provided by user)
Better Business Bureau profile. bbb.org
BBB consumer complaint (2024). bbb.org
Trustpilot reviews. trustpilot.com
ConsumerAffairs reviews. consumeraffairs.com
BestCompany review. bestcompany.com
CuraDebt expert analysis. curadebt.com
Federal Trade Commission. “American Financial Benefits Center Refunds.” ftc.gov
Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. “CFPB Seeks Ban Against Operator of Student Loan Debt Relief Scam Reboot.” consumerfinance.gov
Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. “CFPB Takes Action Against Operators of an Unlawful Student Loan Debt Relief Scheme.” consumerfinance.gov
Federal Trade Commission. “FTC Acts to Stop Scheme that Bilked Millions out of Student Loan Borrowers.” ftc.gov, December 2024
Federal Trade Commission. “Student Loan Debt Relief Scam Operators Agree to be Permanently Banned.” ftc.gov, May 2025
Time Magazine. “Navient Settlement: Student Loan Borrowers to Receive Payments.” time.com, 2024
The Guardian. “Brad Lander: CFPB Cuts Create Open Season for Fraudsters.” theguardian.com, May 2025 -

7 insights about chronic absenteeism, a new normal for American schools
Five years after the start of the pandemic, one of the most surprising ways that school has profoundly, and perhaps permanently, changed is that students aren’t showing up. Here are some insights from a May symposium at the American Enterprise Institute where scholars shared research on the problem of widespread absenteeism.
1. Chronic absenteeism has come down a lot from its peak in 2021-22, but it’s still 50 percent higher than it was before the pandemic.
Roughly speaking, the chronic absenteeism rate nearly doubled after the pandemic, from 15 percent of students in 2018-19 to a peak of almost 29 percent of students in 2021-22. This is the share of students who are missing at least 10 percent, or 18 or more days, of school a year. Chronic absenteeism has dropped by about 2 to 3 percentage points a year since then, but was still at 23.5 percent in 2023-24, according to the most recent AEI data.
Related: Our free weekly newsletter alerts you to what research says about schools and classrooms.
Chronic absenteeism is more than 50 percent higher than it used to be. There are about 48 million public school students, from kindergarten through 12th grade. Almost 1 in 4 of them, or 11 million students, are missing a lot of school.
2. High-income students and high achievers are also skipping school.
Absenteeism cuts across economic lines. Students from both low- and high-income families are often absent as are high-achieving students. Rates are the highest among students in low-income districts, where 30 percent of students are chronically absent, according to AEI data. But even in low-poverty districts, the chronic absenteeism rate has jumped more than 50 percent from about 10 percent of students to more than 15 percent of students. Similarly, more than 15 percent of students in the highest-achieving school districts (the top third) are chronically absent, up from 10 percent in pre-pandemic years.
“Chronic absenteeism affects disadvantaged students more often, but the rise in chronic absenteeism was an unfortunate tide where all boats rose,” said Nat Malkus, deputy director of education policy studies at AEI.
Related: The chronic absenteeism puzzle
The data show strikingly large differences by race and ethnicity, with 36 percent of Black students, 33 percent of Hispanic students, 22 percent of white students, and 15 percent of Asian students chronically absent. But researchers said once they controlled for income, the racial differences were not so large. In other words, chronic absenteeism rates among Black and white students of the same income are not so disparate.
3. Moderate absenteeism is increasing.
Everyone is missing more school, not just students who are frequently absent. Jacob Kirksey, an associate professor of education policy at Texas Tech University, tracked 8 million students in three states (Texas, North Carolina and Virginia) from 2017 to 2023. Half had “very good” absentee rates under 4 percent in 2019. By 2023, only a third of students were still going to school as regularly. Two-thirds were not.
“A lot of students who used to miss no school are now missing a couple days,” said Ethan Hutt, an associate professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, who noticed the same phenomenon in the North Carolina data that he studied. “That’s just become the norm.”
4. Many students say they skip because school is ‘boring.’
Researchers are interviewing students and families to try to understand why so many kids are skipping school.
Kevin Gee, a professor of education at the University of California, Davis, analyzed surveys of elementary, middle and high school students in Rhode Island from 2016 to 2024. He found that more students are reporting missing school for traditionally common reasons: not getting enough sleep and illness.
After the pandemic, parents are more likely to keep their kids home from school when they get sick, but that doesn’t explain why absenteeism is this high or why physically healthy kids are also missing so much school.
Gee found two notable post-pandemic differences among students in Rhode Island. Unfinished homework is less of a reason to skip school today than it used to be, while more elementary school students said they skipped school because “it’s boring.”
Researchers at the symposium debated what to do about school being boring. Some thought school lessons need to be more engaging for students who may have shorter attention spans. But others disagreed. “I think it’s OK for school to be boring,” said Liz Cohen, a research fellow at the Johns Hopkins Institute for Education Policy. “We need to adjust expectations that school should be as exciting as ‘Dora the Explorer’ all the time.”
5. Mental health issues contribute to absenteeism.
Morgan Polikoff, a professor of education at the University of Southern California, has also analyzed surveys and noticed a “strong connection” between mental health struggles and chronic absenteeism. It was unclear if the increase in mental illness was triggered or exacerbated by the pandemic, or if it reflects anxiety and depression issues that began before the pandemic.
He’s interviewing families and teenagers about why they’re absent, and he says he’s seeing high levels of “disengagement” and mental illness. Parents, he said, were often very concerned about their children’s mental health and well-being.
“Reading the transcripts of these parents and kids who are chronically absent is really difficult,” said Polikoff. “A lot of these kids have really severe traumas. Lots of very legitimate reasons for missing school. Really chronic disengagement. The school is not serving them well.”
6. Showing up has become optional.
Several researchers suggested that there have been profound cultural shifts about the importance of in-person anything. Seth Gershenson, an economist and associate professor of public affairs at American University, suggested that in-person school may seem optional to students in the same way that going to the office feels optional for adults.
“Social norms about in-person attendance have changed, whether it’s meeting with the doctor or whatever,” said Gershenson, pointing out that even his graduate students are more likely to skip his classes. “We’re going to be absent now for reasons that would not have caused us to be absent in the past.”
At the same time, technology has made it easier for students to skip school and make up the work. They can download assignments on Google Classroom or another app, and schedule a video meeting with a classmate or even their teacher to go over what they missed.
Related: Tracking student data falls short in combating absenteeism at school
“It is easier to be absent from school and make up for it,” said USC’s Polikoff. In his interviews, 39 of the 40 families said it was “easy” to make up for being absent. “People like that everything is available online and convenient. And also, there is absolutely no question in my mind that doing that — which is well-intentioned — makes it much easier for people to be absent.”
The numbers back that up. Gershenson calculated that before the pandemic, skipping 10 days of school caused a student to lose the equivalent of a month’s worth of learning. Now, the learning loss from this amount of absenteeism is about 10 percent less; instead of losing a month of school, it’s like losing 90 percent of a month. Gershenson said that’s still big enough to matter.
And students haven’t felt the most severe consequence: failing. Indeed, even as absenteeism has surged, school grades and graduation rates have been rising. Many blame grade inflation and an effort to avoid a high school dropout epidemic.
7. Today’s absenteeism could mean labor force problems tomorrow.
Academic harm may not be the most significant consequence of today’s elevated levels of chronic absenteeism. Indeed, researchers calculated that returning to pre-pandemic levels of chronic absenteeism would erase only 7.5 percent of the nation’s pandemic learning losses. There are other more profound (and little understood) reasons for why students are so far behind.
More importantly, the experience of attending school regularly doesn’t just improve academic performance, researchers say. It also sets up good habits for the future. “Employers value regular attendance,” said Gershenson. He said employers he has talked to report having trouble finding reliable workers.
“There’s much more than test scores here,” Gershenson said. “This is a valuable personality trait. It’s part of a habit that gets formed early in school. And we’ve definitely lost some of that. And hopefully we can bring it back.”
Next week, I’ll be writing a follow-up column about how some schools are solving the absenteeism puzzle — at least with some students — and why the old pre-pandemic playbooks for reducing absenteeism aren’t working as well anymore.
Contact staff writer Jill Barshay at 212-678-3595, jillbarshay.35 on Signal, or [email protected].
This story about chronic absenteeism was written by Jill Barshay and produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Proof Points and other Hechinger newsletters.
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When American Greed is the Norm
Greed is no longer a sin in America—it’s a system. It’s a curriculum. It’s a badge of success. In the American higher education marketplace, greed is not the exception. It’s the norm.
We see it in the bloated salaries of university presidents who deliver austerity to everyone but themselves. We see it in billion-dollar endowments hoarded like dragon’s gold while students drown in debt. We see it in the metastasizing ranks of middlemen—consultants, online program managers, enrollment optimization firms—who profit off the dreams and desperation of working-class families.
But greed in American higher education is more than a few bad actors or golden parachutes. It is institutionalized, normalized, and weaponized.
The Student as Customer, the Campus as Marketplace
It began with the rebranding of education as a “return on investment,” a transaction rather than a transformation. The purpose of college was no longer to liberate the mind but to monetize the degree.
By the 1990s, under bipartisan neoliberal consensus, public colleges were defunded and forced to adopt the private sector’s logic: cut costs, raise prices, sell more. Tuition rose. Debt exploded. The ranks of administrators swelled while faculty were downsized and adjunctified. The market had spoken.
But even that wasn’t enough. A generation of edu-preneurs emerged—Silicon Valley-funded disruptors, for-profit college chains, and online program managers—who turned learning into a scalable commodity. Robocolleges like Southern New Hampshire University, Purdue Global, and the University of Phoenix began operating more like tech platforms than institutions of thought.
The result? Diploma mills at the front end and collection agencies at the back.
Greed in the Name of God and Country
Greed doesn’t always look like Wall Street. Sometimes it wears the face of morality. Religious colleges, some of them under the protection of nonprofit status, have become breeding grounds for political operatives and ideological grooming—while raking in millions through taxpayer-funded financial aid.
Liberty University, Grand Canyon University, and a host of lesser-known Bible colleges operate under a warped theology of prosperity, turning salvation into a subscription plan. Meanwhile, they push anti-democratic ideologies and funnel money toward political causes far removed from the mission of education.
Accreditation as a Shell Game
The accreditors—the supposed watchdogs of educational quality—have been largely asleep at the wheel or complicit. When greed is the norm, accountability is an inconvenience. For-profit schools regularly reinvent themselves as nonprofits. Online program managers operate in regulatory gray zones. Mergers and acquisitions disguise collapse as growth.
Accreditation agencies rubber-stamp it all, as long as the paperwork is tidy and the lobbyists are well-compensated.
Debt as Discipline
More than 43 million Americans carry federal student loan debt. Many will never escape it. This debt is not just financial—it’s ideological. It keeps the workforce compliant. It disciplines dissent. It renders critical thought a luxury.
And those who push for debt relief? They are met with moral lectures about personal responsibility—from the same lawmakers who handed trillions to banks, defense contractors, and fossil fuel companies.
Silicon Valley’s Hungry Mouth
The new frontier of greed is AI. Tech giants like Google, Amazon Web Services, and Meta are embedding themselves deeper into education—not to empower learning, but to extract data, monetize behavior, and deepen surveillance. Every click, every quiz, every attendance record is a monetizable moment.
Universities, starved for funding and afraid of obsolescence, are selling access to students in exchange for access to cloud infrastructure and algorithmic tools they barely understand.
Greed Isn’t Broken—It’s Working as Designed
In this system, who wins? Not students. Not faculty. Not society.
The winners are those who turn knowledge into a commodity, compliance into virtue, and inequality into inevitability. Those who build castles from the bones of public education, then retreat behind walls of donor-backed endowments and think tanks. The winners are few. But they write the rules.
A Different Future Is Possible
If American greed is the norm, then what remains of education’s soul must be found in the margins—in the community college professor working three jobs. In the librarian defending open access. In the adjunct organizing a union. In the students refusing to be pawns in someone else’s game.
The antidote to greed is not charity—it’s solidarity.
Until justice is funded as well as football. Until learning is valued more than branding. Until access is more than a talking point on a donor brochure—then greed will remain not just a sin, but a system.
Sources
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U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics
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The Century Foundation, “The OPM Industry: Profits Over Students” (2023)
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Chronicle of Higher Education, “Administrative Bloat and the Adjunct Crisis”
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IRS Nonprofit Filings, Liberty University and Grand Canyon University
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Debt Collective, “The State of Student Debt” (2025)
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Public records and audits of Title IV institutions, 2022–2024
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Higher Education Inquirer archives
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What the Fall of Rome Tells Us About the American Oligarchy
There are tax farmers squeezing a province dry. There are soldiers fighting for the emperor’s baton. And then there are a few who dread the empire’s fall and dream of the old republic.
This is not just the story of ancient Rome. It’s also an apt metaphor for the state of contemporary America—a late-stage empire defined by extreme inequality, militarization, and a governing class that clings to power while the social fabric unravels.
In Rome, the Senate once stood as the heart of the Republic, composed of elite Patrician families who wielded enormous religious, political, and economic influence. But as historian and economist Michael Hudson writes in The Collapse of Antiquity, these elites became entrenched creditors and landlords, a rentier class unwilling to compromise or adapt. They refused debt cancellation, land redistribution, or any reforms that might curb their power—transforming what was once a dynamic, if imperfect, republic into a brittle and parasitic empire.
This refusal to evolve created an unsustainable system. Wealth concentrated in fewer hands. Small farmers and urban workers were crushed under debts. The rural economy collapsed as latifundia (large estates) displaced independent farmers. Military commanders, frustrated with elite gridlock, seized power for themselves. And the Senate, once a genuine force of governance, became a ceremonial shell. What followed was a long descent: civil wars, authoritarianism, economic stagnation, and eventually the re-feudalization of the West.
Hudson’s view is clear: the Roman Senate and elite, by prioritizing their creditor rights over the common good, destroyed the economic base that sustained the Empire. In their greed and rigidity, they ensured the fall they feared.
Now consider the United States. Like Rome, America has become dominated by a professional ruling class: oligarchs, financiers, tenured politicians, credentialed technocrats, and think-tank warriors. Institutions of higher education, once engines of democratic possibility, have increasingly become training grounds for this elite. And like the Roman Senate, they are largely unaccountable—privatizing gains, socializing losses, and suppressing reform.
Just as Roman tax farmers drained the provinces, today’s student loan servicers, for-profit colleges, and hedge fund–backed housing firms squeeze the public to fund private empires. Just as Roman generals became emperors, today’s billionaires and media moguls wield near-sovereign power over public discourse, elections, and foreign policy. And just as the Roman elite clung to legal fictions while society crumbled, our ruling class insists the republic is healthy—even as inequality soars, infrastructure decays, and democratic norms erode.
There are still those who long for a return to the “old republic”—to a time when education was a public good, when civic virtue mattered, and when government sought the common welfare. But those voices are increasingly drowned out in a landscape of imperial spectacle, culture wars, and managed decline.
Hudson reminds us that ancient societies that survived economic collapse—like those in Mesopotamia—did so by recognizing the need for periodic resets. They canceled debts. They redistributed land. They prioritized stability over elite entrenchment. Rome—and perhaps America—refused to learn those lessons.
In this moment of crisis, the choice is stark: will we continue down the path of empire, ruled by debt and extraction? Or will we recover some measure of republic, with institutions that serve people, not just capital?
One thing is certain: empires fall. But their people don’t have to fall with them—if they choose to resist.
Sources:
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Michael Hudson, The Collapse of Antiquity: Greece and Rome as Civilization’s Oligarchic Turning Point, 2023
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Mary Beard, SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome, 2015
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Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 1776–1789
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Kyle Harper, The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease, and the End of an Empire, 2017
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Higher Education Inquirer, ongoing coverage on student debt and elite university structures
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U.S. Department of Education, data on student debt and institutional concentration of resources
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Higher Ed’s Broken Promises and the American Student
“I’m hung up on dreams I’ll never see.”
That Southern rock refrain from Molly Hatchet captures the bitter reality faced by millions of Americans who invested in higher education only to be left with debt, shattered hopes, and uncertain futures.
Educator Gary Roth’s The Educated Underclass points to a growing class of credentialed individuals caught in precarious economic and social positions—overqualified yet underpaid, burdened by debt without the stability education promised. Yet it is the borrowers’ own stories that reveal the human toll behind the numbers.
Over the past month, The Higher Education Inquirer has chronicled the experiences of borrowers misled by predatory institutions—mainly for-profit colleges—through its Borrower Defense Story Series. These narratives shed light on the deeply personal consequences of institutional deception and a federal loan forgiveness process that is often slow, bureaucratic, and uneven.
In one story, a single mother describes her experience at Chamberlain University School of Nursing. She followed every instruction, met every deadline, and committed herself fully to a career in health care. Yet she never earned her degree. Despite this, she remains burdened with thousands of dollars in student loan debt. Her borrower defense application has yet to yield relief.
Another borrower shares her journey with Kaplan University Online, where promises of flexible learning and job placement proved empty. After transferring and completing her degree elsewhere, she still faces uncertainty as her borrower defense claim drags on, highlighting the emotional toll of navigating a broken loan forgiveness system.
A third story critiques the broader system of higher education finance, describing how students—especially those without family wealth or institutional support—become trapped in debt relationships that limit their autonomy and economic mobility. Rather than offering a pathway to security, college becomes a mechanism of financial entrapment.
Most recently, a former fashion student recounts how private loans—unlike federal loans—offered no path for borrower defense relief after she attended a program marketed with glowing career outcomes that never materialized. The result was devastating financial consequences with little recourse.
These individual stories are not exceptions. As of April 30, 2024, over 974,000 borrowers had received more than $17 billion in loan discharges under borrower defense rules, mostly through group claims tied to scandals involving Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, and DeVry. Yet hundreds of thousands still await decisions, and many are excluded entirely due to private loans, school exclusions, or bureaucratic delays.
The borrower defense rule was meant to shield students from fraud, but political interference, legal challenges, and an overwhelmed bureaucracy have marred its implementation. Behind the statistics are people deceived, indebted, and left behind.
Meanwhile, elite institutions hoard resources, adjunct faculty struggle to survive, and the promise of higher education rings hollow for many.
“I’m hung up on dreams I’ll never see.” This lyric is not just poetry but the lived reality for millions. Unless there is radical change—debt cancellation, labor protections, honest admissions, and accountability—the cycle of exploitation will only grow louder.
Some were sold dreams they could never afford. Many of those dreams are now lost.
Sources
Roth, Gary. The Educated Underclass. Pluto Press, 2022
National Center for Education Statistics. “Debt After College”
The Institute for College Access and Success (TICAS). “Student Debt and the Class of 2023”
American Psychological Association. “Mental Health Impacts of Student Debt”
Bousquet, Marc. How the University Works. NYU Press, 2008
McMillan Cottom, Tressie. Lower Ed. The New Press, 2017
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/i-did-everything-right-and-im-still.html
https://www.highereducationinquirer.org/2025/07/fashion-gone-bad-for-private-student.html
https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-24-106530
https://standup4borrowerdefense.com
https://www.insidehighered.com/news/government/student-aid-policy/2023/10/24/colleges-concerned-about-rise-borrower-defense-claims -

Look to Your Culture (American Indian College Fund)
Cheryl Crazy Bull, President and CEO of the American Indian College Fund, was the 2025 keynote speaker for Oglala Lakota College’s graduation ceremony. She acknowledges the difficulties Native communities are facing with the new administration’s budgets. Native experiences in the sixties and seventies led to a renaissance in Native communities and education and she cites the lessons they provide, based on Lakota culture, for surviving and thriving.
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American Higher Education and the Debt Trap
They call it a “path to opportunity,” but for millions of students and their families, American higher education is just Flirtin’ with Disaster—a gamble with long odds and staggering costs. Borrowers bet their future on a credential, universities gamble with public trust and private equity, and the system as a whole plays chicken with economic and social collapse. Cue the screeching guitar of Molly Hatchet’s 1979 Southern rock anthem, and you’ve got a fitting soundtrack to the dangerous dance between institutions of higher ed and the consumers they so aggressively court.
The Student as Collateral
For the last three decades, higher education in the United States has increasingly behaved like a high-stakes poker table, only it’s the students who are holding a weak hand. Underfunded public colleges, predatory for-profits, and tuition-hiking private universities all promise upward mobility but deliver it only selectively. The rest? They leave the table with debt, no degree, or both.
Colleges market dreams, but they sell debt. Americans now owe more than $1.7 trillion in student loans. And while some elite schools can claim robust return-on-investment, most institutions below the top tiers produce increasingly shaky value propositions—especially for working-class, first-gen, and BIPOC students. For them, education is often less an elevator to the middle class than a trapdoor into a lifetime of wage garnishment and diminished credit.
Institutional Recklessness
Universities themselves are no saints in this drama. Fueled by financial aid dollars, college leaders have expanded campuses like land barons—building luxury dorms, bloated athletic programs, and administrative empires. Meanwhile, instruction is increasingly outsourced to underpaid adjuncts, and actual student support systems are skeletal at best.
The recklessness isn’t limited to for-profits like Corinthian Colleges, ITT Tech, and the Art Institutes, all of which collapsed under federal scrutiny. Even brand-name nonprofits—think USC, NYU, Columbia—have been exposed for enrolling students into costly, often ineffective online master’s programs in partnership with edtech firms. The real product wasn’t the degree—it was the debt.
A Nation at the Brink
From community colleges to research universities, institutions are now being pushed to their financial and ethical limits. The number of colleges closing or merging has skyrocketed, especially among small private colleges and rural campuses. Layoffs, like those at Southern New Hampshire University and across public systems in Pennsylvania, Oregon, and West Virginia, show that austerity is the new norm.
But the real disaster is systemic. The American college promise—that hard work and higher ed will lead to security—is unraveling in real time. With declining enrollments, aging infrastructure, and increasing political pressure to defund or control curriculum, many schools are shifting from public goods to privatized risk centers. Even state flagship universities now behave more like hedge funds than educational institutions.
Consumers or Victims?
One of the cruelest ironies is that students are still told they are “consumers” who should “shop wisely.” But education is not like buying a toaster. There’s no refund if your college closes. There’s no protection if your degree is devalued. And there’s no bankruptcy for most student loan debt. Even federal forgiveness efforts—like Borrower Defense or Public Service Loan Forgiveness—are riddled with bureaucratic landmines and political sabotage.
In this asymmetric market, the house almost always wins. Institutions keep the revenue. Third-party contractors keep their profits. Politicians collect campaign checks. And the borrowers? They’re left flirtin’ with disaster, hoping the system doesn’t collapse before they’ve paid off the last dime.
No Exit Without Accountability
There’s still time to change course—but it will require radical rethinking. That means:
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Holding institutions and executives accountable for false advertising and financial harm.
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Reining in tuition hikes and decoupling higher ed from Wall Street’s expectations.
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Fully funding community colleges and public universities to serve as real social infrastructure.
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Expanding debt cancellation—not just piecemeal forgiveness—for those most harmed by a failed system.
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Ending the exploitation of adjunct labor and restoring the academic mission.
Otherwise, higher education in the U.S. will continue on its reckless path, a broken-down system blasting its anthem of denial as it speeds toward the edge.
As the song goes:
“I’m travelin’ down the road and I’m flirtin’ with disaster… I got the pedal to the floor, my life is runnin’ faster.”
So is the American student debt machine—and we’re all strapped in for the ride.
Sources:
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U.S. Department of Education, Federal Student Aid Portfolio
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“The Trillion Dollar Lie,” Student Borrower Protection Center
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The Century Foundation, “The High Cost of For-Profit Colleges”
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Inside Higher Ed, Chronicle of Higher Education, Higher Ed Dive
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National Center for Education Statistics
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Molly Hatchet, Flirtin’ with Disaster, Epic Records, 1979
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A Call for Revolutionary Hope in American Higher Education
In a fiery and prophetic address, the House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries invoked the memory of America’s original struggle for freedom, branding the tyranny of King George III in the years before the American Revolution as “Project 1775.” With bold clarity, he drew a straight line from that era of oppression to today’s rising authoritarianism—what he identified as “Donald Trump’s Project 2025” and the accompanying Trump Spending Bill. But rather than ending in despair, his speech was a call to courage and hope: just as Project 1775 gave birth to the Revolution of 1776, we are called to give birth to a new movement—Project 2026, a revolutionary vision of democracy, justice, and renewal.
His message resonates beyond politics—it speaks deeply to the state of American higher education, which now stands at a crossroads. Under siege from authoritarian impulses, stripped of funding, and commodified by corporate greed, our colleges and universities reflect a nation in spiritual crisis. But as the Minority Leader reminded us, this moment is also one of great opportunity.
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7)
Project 2026 is not merely a reaction to tyranny—it is a faith-driven declaration of agency. It is a call to restore education as a public good, not a private racket. It is a rejection of robocolleges, shadowy online program managers, and predatory lenders that have turned learning into a means of lifelong debt. And it is a stand against those who weaponize ignorance and rewrite history for their own gain.
We are reminded in the New Testament that resistance is righteous, and that reform must be rooted in love, justice, and truth.
“And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32)
This truth must guide the next phase of the American experiment—a truth that recognizes students not as consumers but as citizens; that sees teachers not as disposable labor but as bearers of light; and that understands education as liberation, not subjugation.
Project 2026 can become our modern Sermon on the Mount, a blueprint for building a nation where colleges nurture both critical thinking and spiritual compassion, where public funding is a covenant—not a weapon—and where we “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God” (Micah 6:8).
For decades, institutions of higher learning have drifted toward elitism, exclusion, and exploitation. Many have served as tools of empire, not vessels of enlightenment. Project 2026 offers a rebirth—a Great Awakening that opens the doors of education wide to the poor, the marginalized, and the weary. It speaks to the tired adjunct, the indebted graduate, the first-generation student, and the worker seeking dignity.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)
This is the moment to stand together. Project 2026 must not be left to chance or left in the hands of the powerful alone. It is a grassroots revolution of the mind and spirit—a multiracial, multigenerational, moral movement that calls upon students, faculty, parents, and communities to say: No more.
No more austerity cloaked as fiscal responsibility.
No more censorship masquerading as patriotism.
No more debt for a degree that leads to precarious work and empty promises.Instead, let us build an education system worthy of democracy—a system animated by the values that once inspired a ragtag group of rebels in 1776. Let us be the generation that reclaims education as the soul of the Republic.
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2)
The struggle ahead will not be easy. But neither was 1776. And yet from that fire emerged a new nation. With faith and fierce love, Project 2026 can become a new declaration—not just of independence, but of interdependence. A declaration of solidarity with the forgotten, the silenced, and the struggling.
Let the tyrants tremble. Let the profiteers beware.
A revolution is stirring in our hearts.And as Scripture reminds us:
“If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31)
Sources:
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The Holy Bible, New Testament
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House Minority Leader remarks, July 3, 2025
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Trump-aligned Project 2025 blueprint (Heritage Foundation)
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Trump Budget and Spending Bill (2025)
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The Higher Education Inquirer archives on privatization, debt peonage, and adjunct labor in U.S. higher education
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Religion’s Ever-Shifting Role in American Higher Education
Religion, particularly Protestantism, was central to the mission of the country’s first universities. Chapels were constructed at the center of campuses. University presidents, often devout, worried over the salvation of their students.
James W. Fraser’s new book, Religion and the American University (Johns Hopkins University Press), offers a detailed history of how religion’s role in higher ed has been upended again and again by transformative events, including the discovery of evolution, the emergence of biblical criticism, the Industrial Revolution and the advent of the modern-day research university.
It outlines how religion cropped up in students’ lives in new ways as they continued to grapple with moral and ethical questions and as various denominations and faiths vied for their attention and adherence. The book charts how the academic study of religion developed, how campus chaplains and religious student groups diversified along with student bodies, and how religious differences on campuses created new learning opportunities and tensions.
Fraser, a professor emeritus of history and education at New York University and a United Church of Christ minister, argues that while much of academe pushes religion to its periphery, today’s students are still concerned with questions of spirituality and meaning.
Fraser spoke with Inside Higher Ed about the new book. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Q: Your book details massive changes in the role of religion in higher ed, from Protestant-dominated universities to institutions with more diverse student bodies and chaplaincies, and from religion-centric to more secularized. You describe a shift away from the idea of colleges that “transmitted knowledge” to colleges that “created new knowledge” as research universities came about. What do you think higher ed has gained or lost in these transitions?
A: There is no question that the transition from the old-fashioned teaching college to the research university has done a couple of really important things, not only for students but for society. One is that being able to invite students to be fellow researchers in the pursuit of knowledge is always a much better pedagogical approach than “You will learn this, and you will learn that,” and people can learn it and forget it pretty quickly.
I also think for all of us who criticize the research university, we have to remember all of the extraordinary accomplishments. Human life is twice as long because of medical research. Food supplies are much more plentiful because of agricultural research. Educational studies have helped more and more students learn how to read. The list goes on and on. The breakthroughs of the research university are huge.
In terms of what is lost, I think the clearest issue is in some ways described by Julie A. Reuben in The Making of the Modern University. The intellectual developments have gotten so much stronger than … attention to issues of meaning, purpose and belonging … Attention to issues of spirituality and faith have been marginalized significantly, and there’s certainly a norm in the research university now that scientific research—what you can count—counts the most. And what you care about and what you value count less. And that I find very problematic.
Q: You discuss in the book how today’s students have a deep interest in meaning-making and spirituality, if not religion, per se. Do you think it’s part of a college’s role to address that, and if so, how should institutions go about it?
A: I think it better be a part of colleges’ role, and I would say that for a couple of reasons. One is, asking questions of meaning, purpose, belonging, questions of faith, questions of morality, are pretty essential if we’re going to maintain and protect our democracy and our society in the 21st century. And if we simply say institutions are going to do this very specific kind of research and are going to teach professional skills, and we’re going to evaluate universities by how much money the students make when they graduate, we stop teaching about things that will sustain our society and will sustain human beings in the future. That’s a huge loss. The second issue is, I just think it’s stupid for universities to disregard student interest when it’s there. If students are interested in these things, we should find ways to talk about it.
I also think—and this is an issue explored in the book a lot—it’s often in the extracurricular areas that the students are able to pursue these [questions]. They pursue them with chaplains, they pursue them with their own individual groups, whether it’s Baháʼí Fellowship or InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. They find other ways … But I don’t think that lets faculty off the hook to develop the kinds of courses [that] let it be done as part of the regular academic curriculum. That’s what we do as professors, and that’s something we ought to offer our students. I think it’s cheap letting ourselves off the hook when we say, “Oh well, they’ll find it elsewhere.”
Q: In the book, you repeatedly highlight a tension within religious communities as to whether to invest in and urge students toward explicitly religious colleges or whether to prioritize building up religious infrastructure at unaffiliated colleges—like chaplains, Hillels and other religious student organizations. Do you think that tension plays out today, and if so, in what ways?
A: I think it plays out very much today. There are people who feel like their young people will only be safe in religious institutions. And there are other people who say, “No, let’s go to the best college we can find. Let’s go to the best state university we can find.”
I have a bias. I favor the religious groups that are finding ways to make a place for themselves in the larger universities. As a conclusion of this book, I talk about Baylor University, which is trying so hard to do both—to both be a religious school and a Research-1 university. And I wish them luck. I admire them. And I think it’s going to be more difficult than they think it’s going to be.
But I think that for many universities … religion finds its own place on the margins, and that can be with chaplains, that can be with student groups. But students care about these issues, and they’re not going to disappear.
Q: The book touches on the beauties of campus religious diversity but also some of the challenges, including the ways that campuses have been rocked by the October 2023 attack on Israel by Hamas and Israel’s invasion of Gaza. Since then, campus antisemitism has been a flash point for the Trump administration’s dealings with higher ed and institutions have been penalized for how they’ve handled pro-Palestinian protests. Having watched how these issues played out, is there anything you would have added to the book on the topic?
A: I mentioned it in one paragraph in the end because it was just going to press, but I would have done a lot more with the challenges that religious diversity [brings]. We live in a world where the Trump administration is attacking diversity, and yet religious diversity is a kind of diversity. Chaplains are telling me they’re feeling tensions about that.
I think the violence, particularly since the Hamas attack on Israel and Israel’s response in Gaza, has set student against student in a way that is going to take decades to recover. Whether you’re a Jewish chaplain or a Muslim chaplain or a chaplain of some other faith, trying to deal with that, with that kind of student pain and student anger and student lashing out and student response, is making it very difficult. Discussions about religion are more difficult than they were two years ago.
And the same is true for religious studies. We’ve seen several examples of religious studies professors who have gotten in trouble. One got in trouble for showing a picture of the Prophet Muhammad in class when some interpretations of Islam say you can’t do it. Another professor lately, who The New York Times profiled, got fired. She was a Jewish professor, but she was outspoken in defense of Gaza, the Palestinian population, and she got fired for it. These things are going to happen. And the pressure on universities—a couple of chaplains have told me they feel like the administration is looking over their shoulders in a way that was not true two years ago and asking, “What are you saying to the students? What are they praying about? Why do we need this kind of disruption?”
I was talking to one of my [former] students, a current chaplain, and he said that this last year has been the most difficult of his decades in chaplaincy. I think that’s not rare.
Q: You focus a sizable chunk of the book on the role of religion at public universities, which aren’t necessarily the first institutions that come to mind when we think about higher education and religion. Why was it important to you to include these institutions and make them a focus?
A: The obvious answer is the majority of American students go to public universities, by far. And to do a study of any aspect of American higher education that ignores public universities is simply silly. I’ve read some other studies that I thought were very thoughtful about religion that didn’t include public universities, and I thought, “But that’s where the students are. We’ve got to do that.”
The second issue is, I found public universities’ relationship with religion very interesting and far more complicated than I thought. In the 1880s, University of Illinois expelled a student for not attending chapel. As late as the eve of World War II in 1939, a quarter of state universities had chapel services—not always required, but they offered them. So, state universities were … pretty much generic Protestant institutions until really the 1960s, 1970s. Faculty culture wasn’t particularly religious in the way it was in the 19th century, but the campus culture and the campus assumptions were.
The other thing I found is that there’s a wily religious life on state university campuses of one sort or another. It’s often led by chaplains working around the margins, and they feel marginalized, but they’re also very effective working around the margins … I was intrigued.
[For example,] I was intrigued by the University of Nevada, Reno, a public university barred by the state Constitution from supporting religion, but it fosters dialogue. I wish more universities were willing to do that. They hosted a conversation on the role of women in religion [in partnership with a local synagogue]. A public university cannot take a stand—we favor this or we favor that—but they don’t need to be afraid of hosting conversations on a variety of topics … That engages with the community. I think universities hold back from engaging with communities on all sorts of issues, but they certainly hold back from engaging with religious communities.
