As a Morehouse College alumnus, I have been intrigued by the varied reactions to Robert Smith’s multi-million-dollar pledge to wipe clean the student loan debt of the College’s class of ’19.
Some people are speechless and heartened by this act. Others have a lot to say about what more could and should be done to address the cost of higher education in general. Both reactions are certainly worthy of attention.
I couldn’t be prouder of my alma mater for inspiring Mr. Smith to invest in 396 scholar-leaders. I am also proud of the plans that I am sure many of these most recent Morehouse graduates were already making—plans to put their money, no matter the amount, into people, places, and things that bring our communities one step closer to self-sufficiency. The $48,000 price tag of a Morehouse education takes on a different connotation when one graduates from the collegewith no student loan debt.
On Sunday, 396 men of color graduated from Morehouse College more economically enfranchised than the average college-going American. Do we understand what that means in the context of race and class? It means we must not let go of this moment. It means we must stand staunchly on platforms that force the conversations about HBCUs (and higher education more broadly) to shift. Mr. Smith has positioned these young scholar-leaders to take what Morehouse aspires to teach every student—to “lead lives of leadership and service” and actualize these precepts in tangible ways.
There are foundations to launch, more debt to eliminate, book scholarships to name, 529 plans to establish, savings accounts to open, and 401K plans to set in motion. This pledge is not about debt. This pledge is about positioning. It asserts the question: what will you do with the gifts you’ve been given?
I realize debt elimination and ‘cash-on-hand’ are two different things, but not having college student loan debt has no doubt shifted what many in the graduating class may have been grappling with. I’m sure many had been thinking about how to support family, wondering what their first job may be, weighing the option of taking out loans to go to graduate school or deferring for a year and working, prioritizing a committed relationship and financially investing in a long-term future … all these life choices make giving (and certainly alumni giving) a low priority for most.
I graduated from Morehouse in 1996, and I can recall getting my first student-loan bill from Sallie Mae. Not only did the full balance overwhelm me, but so did the single monthly payment. I grew up in a house that asked where, not if, I was going to college. But even as a third-generation college graduate, there were no household conversations about giving to one’s alma mater—in fact, beyond church, there were very few conversations about giving in general.
