Why I Chose to Be a Financial Aid Administrator

The landscape surrounding financial aid has been contentious for some time. Consider the toll the better FAFSA and FAFSA simplification have taken on our profession and its people. Surely, many aid administrators can identify with the stress and burnout described in the recent Inside Higher Ed essay “The FAFSA Broke Me.” We are exhausted. Some of us feel overworked and want more workplace flexibility, and others may want to seek other employment opportunities.

Here’s the truth about working in financial aid: The work is hard. It is stressful and tedious, sometimes for days or weeks (or, seriously, months or years) on end. The role regularly runs up against challenging institutional, state and national politics and requires comprehending ambiguous, untimely and confusing guidance from regulators. The word “delay” now makes us shudder, and “injunction” has become a new word in our regular vocabulary. And then of course there are the extremely difficult financial conversations we have with students and families.

We have all undoubtedly hit a point where we question why we are still in the profession. Yet I firmly believe all of us remain staunch advocates for our students and the bright futures they represent, no matter how frustrated we are. We are doing the best we can with the tools we have. That has never changed.

I never intended to work in financial aid. When I unexpectedly lost my job as an event planner with a company I had worked for since I could legally collect a paycheck, I scrambled to find something—anything—that my bachelor’s degree in finance and prior work experience might have prepared me to do. I applied for the role of default manager at a proprietary college, but they hired me for an entry-level position in financial aid instead. It was quite a baptism by fire: I barely knew what a FAFSA was and suddenly I’d been thrown into an almost bottomless pool filled with unknown regulations, constant applications and frustrated families looking for more assistance than we could give. But I learned as fast as I could and received a promotion in only a year. Unfortunately, like many proprietary institutions, this one closed its doors after I’d served there for a little more than two years. Once again, I was out of a job—and this time I was married, with a pregnant spouse.

My next move landed me in the financial aid office of a local community college just three weeks before my son was born. As with the proprietary institution, the community college was different than any school I had attended, considering I am entirely a product of private education, from elementary school through my undergraduate and graduate work. I found the spirit of the community college refreshing. The student body was very diverse and from a range of economic backgrounds, and the staff, faculty and administration were passionate about their institution. It was so different from the privilege I’d never really understood I had. Every student’s story was unique, and the profound impact financial aid had on their academic success was astounding. My first community college commencement was so different from my own commencement ceremony at a four-year private college. Loads of smiling graduates and their families crowded the auditorium, and tears of joy and appreciation streaked the faces of both the students who worked so hard to reach the end and the staff and faculty who were so proud to help them get there. It was amazing to witness. If you’ve never been to a community college commencement, you should do yourself that favor.

A couple years later, in search of professional growth, I moved from the community college into a system-level financial aid position, supporting the operations of 12 community colleges through their student information system as part of a small team of three. I felt over my head when I joined the team, and things only became more challenging from there. Just a few months after I took on the role, our state enacted a new law that provided for an administrative merger to create a centralized governing board for 17 of our 18 public institutions. Layoffs followed, generating bad feelings and a flood of resignations. Among the staff who chose to leave were my two teammates, who were not replaced for several years. As I struggled to keep up—a team of one doing the work of three—my wife gave birth to our second child and was diagnosed with stage-four colon cancer the next day. Just eight months later, I was a 29-year-old widower with two kids under age 4. I struggled hard to learn how to make work and life really balance.

Fortunately, I had incredible financial aid colleagues who were more than willing to help me find my way. They embodied the word “community” in every possible sense, and over time I began to move forward with my life and career. My supervisor promoted me to lead my department and allowed me to add a second staff member (and, years later, a third). I remarried, had two more kids, learned all I could about the inner workings of financial aid administration and developed aspirational career goals. I became conditioned to deal with change, which experience has taught me is a necessary skill every good financial aid professional must embody.

Years later, our governing board announced a plan to consolidate the 12 community colleges into a single statewide institution. Managing this change with a staff of more than 50 indeed was difficult at times, but well worthwhile.

The work is hard, but while they may be few and far between, there are times when we get that phone call, email or handwritten thank-you note from a student saying we personally changed their lives for the better. We may hear from a colleague how we’ve helped them build confidence, advance their career or master a new skill. Those manifestations of appreciation and gratitude continue to validate all our hard work, at least for me.

After more than 18 years in a profession that I tripped into, I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by wonderful financial aid colleagues both locally and nationally. They’ve answered my cold calls and emails without thinking twice or even knowing who I am. I am lucky to have a dedicated staff that remains committed day in and day out, despite the inherent challenges we regularly face. They have helped me through the toughest of times personally and continue to keep me grounded in my career, even when frustration has reigned supreme.

So why did I choose to become a financial aid administrator? Clearly, I didn’t. But it is a calling that chose me, and even in the face of what may be the toughest year in financial aid history, I’m happy it did.