I filed my first Fafsa form during my senior year of high school with a vague understanding that it somehow related to financial aid. I was told that the form, the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, was necessary, and that I could fill it out quickly.
This special report examines the challenges that students, academics, and colleges face in dealing with physical disabilities as well as conditions that are less visible.
But no one told me that completing it would take time and materials that not every parent would have, or that it could determine which colleges I could afford, or even that I had to complete it annually. The form quickly became a tremendous barrier and source of stress for my family. Like so many other students across the country, I didn’t receive the support I needed to complete the Fafsa, a complicated application that does not seem to be designed with students in mind.
As a first-generation college student, I had to gather information for college readiness on my own, either by conducting research or by flagging down teachers, friends already in college, and my guidance counselor for their insights. While my parents — who received only a high-school education in Mexico — gave me the motivation to advocate for myself and to pursue a higher education, they were unable to help me fill out the form.
My high school held a workshop for parents in mid-January 2015, which presented the only opportunity that the families of some of my classmates would have to get help with the form. Parents were told to bring tax information and other identification and employment papers. Just 15 minutes after the workshop began, I received a call at home from my parents, who already were facing a host of problems: The Fafsa was too complicated, my mother didn’t have a Social Security card, and the purpose of such an extensive form was unclear.
I immediately drove to the school to help, but once I arrived, I was astonished to find that I, too, found the presentation on the screen impossible to understand. The language seemed to be written by and for government regulators. For example, because my mother is undocumented, we did not know how to fill out the line asking for a Social Security number. Nor did we know how to respond to a question about taxable college grants and scholarships. It took an overwhelming hour and a half for the three of us to complete the application.
The form quickly became a tremendous source of stress for my family.
I strongly suggest that those who administer Fafsa simplify the complex language and use wording that every high-school student can understand.
Unfortunately, the challenges did not end after we had muscled through the Fafsa, or after I had made it to college, where I struggled to understand my financial-aid situation after my first semester. I first attended a private college with the help of a New York State Tuition Assistance Program grant and some aid from the college. However, after I had started my first semester, the college reduced the amount of financial aid it had originally offered, derailing my plans of graduating with a degree in psychology.
I transferred to Dutchess Community College, part of the State University of New York, as a freshman. It was so frustrating for my dreams to be placed on hold. But I’m not letting my disappointment in a flawed system get in the way of those dreams. By next spring, I will graduate from Dutchess with an associate degree in science. Then I’ll transfer to a SUNY college to complete my bachelor’s degree in psychology.
Eventually I want to earn a Ph.D., so I can become a school guidance counselor and a resource for the next generation of confused collegebound seniors. I want to offer others the kind of help I never received in high school. In the meantime, I believe the Education Department should help schools, students, and parents by dramatically simplifying the Fafsa.
Amairani Perez-Antonio is a sophomore at Dutchess Community College.
