A not-quite love letter to my law school (because student loans suck)
Posted on May 6th, 2015
Today I received an impersonal request for money from the dean of the law school I graduated from ten years ago this month. I find this mildly ironic because she taught my business law class.
Since then, the alma mater, a second-tier regional school, raised tuition about $10,000 over what we paid in the early aughts, increased class sizes (although I believe they are now about where they were before) and completely screwed over most of its alumni with student loans by funneling us toward their student lender (private, because no federal loans could cover even our tuition) of choice. There was a criminal investigation by the state of New York (because some NY residents attended school there) and it came out that for a very paltry amount of money, financial aid at the undergraduate school (and by dint of this, the graduate programs) deliberately did this.
Oh. And by flooding the market with hundreds of new grads.
Sometimes they ask me for money. Usually I ignore it. Today was not one of those days.
They really should know better.
Because I bought, hook, line, and sinker, the BS that I would emerge from L&C with wonderful and amazing opportunities–including paying back my student loans–well, all I have left are the student loans, which I will probably die with.
Don’t ask me for money again. I’m too busy worrying about next month’s rent.
I’ve been meaning to do something like that for a while. It’s not exactly my most vitriolic letter, nor my best written (my god, what a run-on sentence that is), but I feel better.
If they really wanted to help out, they’d mandate all new grads buy and read The Attorney At Large’s Guide to Practicing Law, Part I, that book I wrote for newbie lawyers. Scratch marks on the cover? Totally deliberate. Welcome to the practice of law, kids!
And just one copy will keep me in Xanax for a month! (And heck, even if you read it for free with Kindle Unlimited, that’s still most of a bottle of Xanax.)
And they wonder why their endowment is so paltry. We already trusted them with our money once. Why would we do it a second time?