by Anonymous
In the pursuit of higher education, financial aid systems should stand as pillars of support, fostering an environment where academic potential is not hampered by class or status. However, a closer examination of Penn’s Financial Services reveals a disconcerting juxtaposition between stated ideals and the stark reality many students face.
To the broader public, Penn’s Financial Services insists on its “commitment to making undergraduate education affordable.” It boasts a number of ostensibly noble statistics regarding its aid packages which collectively support this notion that the institution is dedicated to the financial support of its students.
Despite the institution’s proclamations of dedication to affordability, recent revelations have cast a shadow of doubt over these claims.
A scathing lawsuit in January 2022 unveiled a darker underbelly. Penn, alongside other prestigious institutions, was accused of artificially inflating tuition fees through a coordinated manipulation of financial aid calculations. The result? A staggering 170,000 students were allegedly denied the financial aid they were entitled to. This scandal underscores a concerning trend where lofty rhetoric about accessibility clashes with the harsh realities of financial manipulation.
Within the walls of Penn, the experiences of two students echo a pervasive pattern of institutional indifference. The stories of these individuals reveal that the complex web of eligibility criteria and limited funding often leave students grappling with unforeseen financial burdens. The promise of timely support through Emergency & Opportunity Funding falls flat, as one student’s plea for assistance with an MCAT registration fee was dismissed due to the fact that it was a retake. The arbitrary nature of such decisions raises questions about Penn’s commitment to genuine understanding and support.
Student 1: Fuck Your MCAT
This first student specifically had a bone to pick with Penn’s Emergency & Opportunity Funding. These funds are designed to offer timely support for various needs, including technology, travel, and medical bills.
Apart from the fact they don’t give us enough money to rent an apartment and buy food, the emergency and opportunity funding sucked.
aNONYMOUS STUDENT
The student applied for support to pay for their MCAT registration fee. However, since it was the second time the student was taking the exam, Financial Services asserted that it didn’t qualify for emergency funding.
There was a change in leadership, and the new person said that Penn couldn’t pay for my MCAT registration fee because it was a retake. They said that it was my fault, and they couldn’t get into an argument as to what a good grade was. My decision to retake the MCAT wasn’t easy, so I’m not sure why they would think I was just retaking it for the fun of it.
ANONYMOUS STUDENT
In this scenario, a student did not receive the financial support they needed and was instead dismissed and belittled. This anecdote underscores the arbitrary nature of financial services and raises unsettling questions about Penn’s commitment to truly understanding and assisting its students.
Student 2: Savior Complex
Struggling to secure a vital refund crucial for their family’s financial stability, this second student recounts investing an astounding 12 hours in phone conversations with the institution’s financial aid office during their first semester. Rather than expediting the much-needed funds, the university’s representatives consistently steered the conversation towards loan options. The awaited refund eventually materialized in December, as the semester concluded, underscoring the hurdles many students face in navigating convoluted financial systems within higher education.
I spent a total of 12 hours on the phone with financial aid my first semester at Penn trying to get my refund. Instead of expediting the funds my family depends on, they continuously asked if I’d like to take out a loan. I didn’t receive my refund until the end of the semester in December.
ANONYMOUS STUDENT
The scholarship program mentioned by the student unveils a paradox. Seemingly designed to aid financially burdened students, it inadvertently diminishes financial support while compelling students into personal narratives for benefactors. This orchestration of philanthropy emphasizes the intricate interplay between institutional maneuvers and students’ emotional labor, shedding light on the complexities of higher education’s financial aid structures.
The named scholarship program was pushed onto many highly aided students–involuntarily when I first got to Penn– and yet it doesn’t increase our financial aid in any way. Instead, it allows Penn to reduce the grant it gives so they can pay less and require us to write letters to a donor “gifting” us the opportunity to be at this school.
ANONYMOUS STUDENT
They encourage us to send emails and meet this “donor” and over share our personal struggles and future aspirations. The financial aid process is so arduous and grueling enough as it is, and yet Penn has low-income students constantly justify our existence and exploit our familial and financial traumas just to be here. It isn’t enough for Penn that we got in and overcame more significant obstacles than the vast majority of the student body in order to do so; they have to use us for inspiration porn.
The described erosion of financial support and the solicitation of student traumas exemplify the nuanced challenges faced by students navigating disparities within Penn’s financial aid services.
These emblematic scenarios beckon for a comprehensive reevaluation of institutional strategies, with the goal of fostering equitable and transparent support systems that genuinely uplift the diverse student body it serves.
The stories recounted here are not isolated incidents; they are emblematic of a systemic issue that demands comprehensive introspection and change. As Penn champions its commitment to affordability, these narratives compel us to question the sincerity of such declarations. The erosion of financial support, the exploitation of students’ personal struggles, and the bureaucratic hurdles underscore a dire need for transparent, equitable, and empathetic support systems.
Penn Disorientation Guide 