MFA in creative writing and professional software developer here. I took out nearly twice as much as Gillette did to get my MFA over the course of a two-year program.
A lot of the people I spoke to in school decided to fork over that much cash because they'd been brainwashed into believing that there was value in the pursuit of your dream and that that value was intangible. Some of that started when we were kids when our parents told us we could be anything we wanted to be. We grew up expecting we would do whatever we wanted simply because that's the way we imagined the world should work and that if we did it well enough we would be successful.
Of course in reality we'd most likely never be able to make the kind of money that would allow us to repay those loans and live comfortable lives and retire at the modest age of 65, but there would be value despite that. You can't possibly quantify that value sufficiently enough to compare it to anything else before you dive in. My school happened to be fairly upfront about the downsides of their six-figure (over two years) tuition and would regularly advise that if you could not support yourself you ought to drop out. But so many students consciously decided to ignore the hardship they were going through because they thought it was temporary.
Some of the younger students got funding from their parents and never thought twice about the finances. Many of the older students, myself included, had saved up for the experience and had done an honest, sane calculation of the costs and whether they could bare it. We knew we'd return to our careers afterward and we'd make good money and be perfectly satisfied in our literary obscurity. Some got modest financial aid. Some got free rides. A select few got lucky and received six-figure book deals shortly after graduation. But others, who had only just begun their careers, who weren't talented enough for scholarships, who had not received the kind of financial education I and many others had, who didn't have the career prospects, are bludgeoned every month by their spectacular debt.
I own a small apartment and make good money as a software developer. My wife also works and we are very comfortable, but I look at my debt every day and think about all the things we could have had that might have been more valuable. I began school thinking I would never marry and would never have a kid because I didn't really want those things for myself. But I unexpectedly met my now-wife and we chose to have a kid and I realize that my two-year indulgence could have been my kid's college tuition. Or a good chunk toward private school. Or a down payment toward a house in the burbs. And I would happily trade in my degree for that if I could.
Every time I get together with my writing friends, we always talk about selling our books and making good money for them. It seems possible because we see our lucky few classmates have done it. It's a strange illusion, but it's one of the few things that makes the burden a bit more bearable.
The absurdity in my mind continues to be that any of us saw that much value in the degree in the first place. It's easy to say in retrospect that it wasn't a good financial decision, but there's a lot of pressure at the outset to pursue an idealistic vision. It's something people say they wish they'd done and when you have the opportunity and the gumption to do it you feel like you're doing something right. It feels heroic. Not a lot of people are willing to talk you down from it.
I'm pretty certain an MFA as a degree doesn't need to exist, but it's a cash cow for art schools, so the economics make sense for them. But it should be more than a debate about student loans. Adjuncts are underpaid, students are overpaying, and the people who run the programs continue to present the illusion of value. I'm not sure that more financial education is a perfect solution either because the system is exploitative.
A lot of the people I spoke to in school decided to fork over that much cash because they'd been brainwashed into believing that there was value in the pursuit of your dream and that that value was intangible. Some of that started when we were kids when our parents told us we could be anything we wanted to be. We grew up expecting we would do whatever we wanted simply because that's the way we imagined the world should work and that if we did it well enough we would be successful.
Of course in reality we'd most likely never be able to make the kind of money that would allow us to repay those loans and live comfortable lives and retire at the modest age of 65, but there would be value despite that. You can't possibly quantify that value sufficiently enough to compare it to anything else before you dive in. My school happened to be fairly upfront about the downsides of their six-figure (over two years) tuition and would regularly advise that if you could not support yourself you ought to drop out. But so many students consciously decided to ignore the hardship they were going through because they thought it was temporary.
Some of the younger students got funding from their parents and never thought twice about the finances. Many of the older students, myself included, had saved up for the experience and had done an honest, sane calculation of the costs and whether they could bare it. We knew we'd return to our careers afterward and we'd make good money and be perfectly satisfied in our literary obscurity. Some got modest financial aid. Some got free rides. A select few got lucky and received six-figure book deals shortly after graduation. But others, who had only just begun their careers, who weren't talented enough for scholarships, who had not received the kind of financial education I and many others had, who didn't have the career prospects, are bludgeoned every month by their spectacular debt.
I own a small apartment and make good money as a software developer. My wife also works and we are very comfortable, but I look at my debt every day and think about all the things we could have had that might have been more valuable. I began school thinking I would never marry and would never have a kid because I didn't really want those things for myself. But I unexpectedly met my now-wife and we chose to have a kid and I realize that my two-year indulgence could have been my kid's college tuition. Or a good chunk toward private school. Or a down payment toward a house in the burbs. And I would happily trade in my degree for that if I could.
Every time I get together with my writing friends, we always talk about selling our books and making good money for them. It seems possible because we see our lucky few classmates have done it. It's a strange illusion, but it's one of the few things that makes the burden a bit more bearable.
The absurdity in my mind continues to be that any of us saw that much value in the degree in the first place. It's easy to say in retrospect that it wasn't a good financial decision, but there's a lot of pressure at the outset to pursue an idealistic vision. It's something people say they wish they'd done and when you have the opportunity and the gumption to do it you feel like you're doing something right. It feels heroic. Not a lot of people are willing to talk you down from it.
I'm pretty certain an MFA as a degree doesn't need to exist, but it's a cash cow for art schools, so the economics make sense for them. But it should be more than a debate about student loans. Adjuncts are underpaid, students are overpaying, and the people who run the programs continue to present the illusion of value. I'm not sure that more financial education is a perfect solution either because the system is exploitative.