This is the short version of this story:
I started college in January of 1990 at the age of 32. I was a little over a year in recovery, having damn near drank myself to death running an itinerant construction crew that ran a route from Arkansas to Wyoming. Fortunately, I had bought forty acres in the Arkansas Ozarks adjoining the newly-created Buffalo National River federal park. That had become my refuge and first place of healing after seventeen years of self-medication and fleeing inner realities -- which is another story told elsewhere. In January of 1990, I took out my first student loan to attend College of the Ozarks, a conservative private school established by the Presbyterians across the White River from Branson, MO.
I had no idea how I would fare in college, or what I would do. I just knew what I didn't want to do: work construction. I assuredly qualified for social work counseling as I had lived on the fringes of society for ten years at that point. I got none from the college or student loan people, so I was on my own except for my recovery groups, upon whom I leaned heavily.
This story of this turn is extensive, but regarding the loans, I had been injured in a fall at work and my income was down, allowing me to qualify for student aid (Stafford Loans and Pell Grants). I had no savings, other than my forty acres, and while gassing up the truck at a Rapid Roberts (AKA "Fast Bob's") Convenience Store in Hollister, MO, I talked to the clerk about going to college. He said something like, "Oh, just get the loans and grants and go full-time. Throw yourself into it." I was so utterly burned out on my job, I decided to go for it. I got high scores on my ACT, and entered college in the spring semester of 1990.
Once begun, it had to be seen through. I was clean and sober and my new addiction was college. I couldn't get enough of it -- I was like a sponge. After being refused enrollment after three semesters because of the length of my hair, AND receiving the Valedictorian Award, I transferred to Southwest Missouri State University, now Missouri State U. in Springfield. After dabbling in diverse potentialities, I settled in as a History and Music double major, graduating in 1995 with a BA and 199 credit hours. As I say, a functional advisor would have whittled that number down, but I have never had any regrets about it.
I knew I didn't want to pursue an academic music career -- didn't fit in -- too late of a start -- so I started grad school in the Folklore Department at Memorial University of Newfoundland, who had offered me a job and money to attend. After one semester of intense personal growth at MUN and St. John's, I decided to focus on history while performing music at coffeeshops, pubs, festivals, etc. I came back to Kansas, where I had grown up, first attending Fort Hays State University while helping my dad, whose health was beginning to fail, then moving on to Wichita State University for my MA. All of this was supported in large part by loans, grants, working as a TA or paid internships as well as playing music. At Wichita, I formed a Celtic music band that caught the "Riverdance" wave and became regionally successful over the next fifteen years. So I was a rare bird that was able to support my history studies through playing music, at least in large part. I also met my wife, Kathleen, who played a huge role in helping support the now joint endeavor.
I got my MA in history and entered the University of Kansas in 2000 to study with the eminent Donald Worster -- another growth experience. It was a circle of hell. I taught at KU, then Washburn, then at Johnson County Community College -- all three at once for awhile. By 2002, I had maxed out the student loan game at $135,000. The thing is, if you want a career in history, you need a doctoral degree. Again, there was no turning back. Fortunately, teaching and playing music along with my wife's income, we were able to get by.
So the student loans stopped in 2002; I got my doctorate in 2008, but no full-time job was forthcoming. Actually, between my various teaching gigs, I HAD a full-time job, or rather, three part-time jobs, which is how this capitalist juggernaut rolls now. By 2012, I was teaching more than a full-time load, and by 2016, I routinely taught between eight and twelve classes per semester at three, sometimes four schools.
The $135K I had borrowed, thanks to compound interest, was soon over $250K and by 2020 had broken $300K -- an unpayable debt. Bear in mind that my "adjunct" teaching (I prefer the more apropos term "contractor") was done at a pay less than half of what "full-timers" are paid, especially when you count benefits. And, incidentally, my CV is absolutely comparable to many full-timers in terms of publications and teaching experience. So, I believe the term for this situation is "wage theft," although it is "legal."
I managed to tread water on the loans through various programs available to minimize what would have otherwise been an unsustainable monthly payment. I was advised by my student loan servicer to have my two loans consolidated under a federal servicer so that they could be discharged. (!!!!) Apparently, the Biden administration had enacted a plan whereby if you had student loans outstanding for over 240 months, they could be discharged as long as they were "federalized," i.e., not managed by a private company. So, I consolidated my loans with MOHELA and awaited news.
Then, one fine day after a deeply satisfying trip to the Colorado High Country, on August 7, 2023, I checked balance of my student loans on the government website. The number that had been hovering around $315,000 was now $0. I stared in disbelief. I printed the screen. I showed my wife -- all in a state of disbelief -- I couldn't grasp it. I still can't two days later. I'm writing this essay to try and "grok" the situation. I have always "known" at some level that the Great Benevolence would take care of this, but I didn't know how. Now, it is done. My life, which I thought over at the age of 30, has been brought back to the light of day. The student loan issue was the last step in that emergence. I am so grateful, I can't express it in words. But I'm trying.
So, what began as a somewhat desperate act to salvage my life has become a kind of self-actualization with a highly-rewarding "career." After fifteen years of itinerant construction work and utter burnout, severe alcoholism, and general crazy shit, my life turned around although with the cloud of student loans hanging over my head (but I kept the faith!). Two days ago, the cloud was lifted.
