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TITLE: The Story of the Returned Pell Grant
Note: You’ll have to forgive me for this being so late. Yesterday, I had to be at a motherfucking day care all day as part of my pediatric clinical rotation. Ya’ll, I…I…there are people-real, live, flesh and blood human beings-who want to do that kind of thing for a living.
Like…they actually make the choice to go to school, pay money in the form of tuition, graduate with their degree…and then spend their days. Doing this shit. Sometimes from, like, 6:30am on the dot to as late as 6 or 7pm. I…ya’ll.
And the lil classrooms, which are sectioned by the age of the kids? Ya’ll, they ain’t even got grown-up chairs for us adults to sit in. My fucking back and legs are still sore from sitting in them itty bitty toddler chairs, lord. I have no idea how my ass fit in there. And my arms are fucking sore from picking up and cuddling screaming, clinging babies that day, too.
And lord have mercy, toddlers will throw hands and scream bloody murder over a toy.
Which they promptly forget about five seconds later when you put a new toy in front of them.
I assure you, though, that I was on my absolute best behavior. They gave me high-ass marks on my paper when they signed it. And I promptly left at 2:30 on the head. –shudders-
But anyway! Pell Grant story!
So, a little into my semester at school (and well after my mother forked over the money for my tuition), I received an email from my financial aid office that basically said they were reviewing the total number/percentage of hours that I’d reached. Because remember that you can only take so many hours (classes) before Pell Grant cuts your sorry ass off permanently.
My first and lasting impression was indignant anger because…it is a number. That I either did or did not reach. And even if I didn’t, well I’ve still suffered from all of this stress and my mother paid all of this money and I’ve been through all of this bullshit just to get an RN beside my name and what in the fresh fuck are you people doing.
They said I’d receive another email about their decision once they were done deliberating. Again, I was like…it’s a number that I either did or didn’t reach. And besides which, I was perfectly convinced that nothing would change anyway and so the emails were a waste of time.
Fast-forward to about another week and it’s yet another email letting me know to come into the financial aid office to talk with one of the advisors/officers about the decision. They specifically told me to come after the end of August, so as to escape the new-semester crowd. I was like…I wouldn’t put it past my school to tell me to come in for paper that’s going to be meaningless in the end. But I logged the date in my agenda and made a note to go there in-between my Med Surg II and Peds class on Tuesday. I mean, why the hell not? It’s just gonna be useless paper anyway.
But I went (and saw an old friend right inside the front double doors, too! I gave him the biggest hug ever and was excited to learn that he’s getting into occupational therapy now! Wooo!!). I signed in and then didn’t have to wait very long before one of the financial aid officers told me that I was basically just given a warning that I was about to max out my Pell Grant, not that it was ending.
…My face must’ve said something without my mouth moving because she asked me if I wanted to see the financial aid director, Mrs. B. I told her that yes, I would like that and, no, I didn’t mind having to wait for just a little bit longer.
So I waited some more and eventually Mrs. B came out to get me herself. I’d met her before-she’s a kind lady, a competent lady, and a pretty black lady, y’know? I remembered to stay as polite and patient as I could because it doesn’t do to take your frustrations and fears out too early. No need to be an ass unless and until someone shows you their ass.
-deep breath- So I sat down in Mrs. B’s office. Her office is really nice-warm, brown tones and mini figurines, statues, and paintings of elephants everywhere. There are awards everywhere for her doing all she can to help students find the money to get where they need to go. Papers, folders, and sticky notes are also everywhere, but they’re well organized. Not chaotic at all.
I still had to bite my tongue when I sat down. Mrs. B prolly noticed it, since she said, “Thank you for taking the time to come and see me.”
And ya’ll…
In a nutshell? Because I still tear up a little bit thinking about it? This…this woman and whomever else she worked with…
What they did? They realized that a lot of students-not just me-were coming close to maxing out their financial aid, be it Pell Grants, loans, and everything else in-between. So they looked at all of the transcripts to see 1.) the student’s major and where they were on the path to completing that major and 2.) what, if any, classes they could omit from the student’s official count towards their usage of their financial aid, so long as it didn’t apply to their current major.
So for me? Well, remember that I’d initially attended this school for a medical assisting degree long, long before I came back for a nursing degree. Hell, long before I ever dreamed I’d even think about being a nurse. But a lot classes required to enter and get through the medical assisting program are not at all required to enter and get through the nursing program.
All of those classes that I didn’t use for nursing…they cut those out. And so that cut the amount of hours I used down and made the amount of Pell Grant that I have left go up.
As a result, I was covered for this semester and well into next semester.
I did not know they could do this. I had no idea they could do this.
I told Mrs. B that my mother still paid all of that money for my tuition. She asked me if I had a laptop or my phone on me. I pulled out my faithful Pinky and she commented on my cute rainbow-colored keyboard. She had me log into my school email, go to the financial aid tab…and see all of my Pell Grant that will come in the mail in the form of a check and straight back into our pockets, since my mother paid my tuition this time.
I started crying like the crybaby I am. I apologized to her and said I knew that she had many other students to see. But she just smiled at me, reached into her drawer to pull out some Dunkin’ Donuts napkins, and handed them to me so I could cry in peace. She said she actually had to go take care of some things outside of her office for a moment, so I was more than free to just sit there in the chair and cry my freakin’ heart out.
Once I got my bearings, I tearfully thanked her and went on my way. I sat outside on a bench and called Mommy to let her know the amazing news.
And, well…ya’ll, my Pell Grant was saved. Just so long as I can finish up this semester and then my last one next semester…holy fucking shit, I still have financial aid.
Like…they actually make the choice to go to school, pay money in the form of tuition, graduate with their degree…and then spend their days. Doing this shit. Sometimes from, like, 6:30am on the dot to as late as 6 or 7pm. I…ya’ll.
And the lil classrooms, which are sectioned by the age of the kids? Ya’ll, they ain’t even got grown-up chairs for us adults to sit in. My fucking back and legs are still sore from sitting in them itty bitty toddler chairs, lord. I have no idea how my ass fit in there. And my arms are fucking sore from picking up and cuddling screaming, clinging babies that day, too.
And lord have mercy, toddlers will throw hands and scream bloody murder over a toy.
Which they promptly forget about five seconds later when you put a new toy in front of them.
I assure you, though, that I was on my absolute best behavior. They gave me high-ass marks on my paper when they signed it. And I promptly left at 2:30 on the head. –shudders-
But anyway! Pell Grant story!
So, a little into my semester at school (and well after my mother forked over the money for my tuition), I received an email from my financial aid office that basically said they were reviewing the total number/percentage of hours that I’d reached. Because remember that you can only take so many hours (classes) before Pell Grant cuts your sorry ass off permanently.
My first and lasting impression was indignant anger because…it is a number. That I either did or did not reach. And even if I didn’t, well I’ve still suffered from all of this stress and my mother paid all of this money and I’ve been through all of this bullshit just to get an RN beside my name and what in the fresh fuck are you people doing.
They said I’d receive another email about their decision once they were done deliberating. Again, I was like…it’s a number that I either did or didn’t reach. And besides which, I was perfectly convinced that nothing would change anyway and so the emails were a waste of time.
Fast-forward to about another week and it’s yet another email letting me know to come into the financial aid office to talk with one of the advisors/officers about the decision. They specifically told me to come after the end of August, so as to escape the new-semester crowd. I was like…I wouldn’t put it past my school to tell me to come in for paper that’s going to be meaningless in the end. But I logged the date in my agenda and made a note to go there in-between my Med Surg II and Peds class on Tuesday. I mean, why the hell not? It’s just gonna be useless paper anyway.
But I went (and saw an old friend right inside the front double doors, too! I gave him the biggest hug ever and was excited to learn that he’s getting into occupational therapy now! Wooo!!). I signed in and then didn’t have to wait very long before one of the financial aid officers told me that I was basically just given a warning that I was about to max out my Pell Grant, not that it was ending.
…My face must’ve said something without my mouth moving because she asked me if I wanted to see the financial aid director, Mrs. B. I told her that yes, I would like that and, no, I didn’t mind having to wait for just a little bit longer.
So I waited some more and eventually Mrs. B came out to get me herself. I’d met her before-she’s a kind lady, a competent lady, and a pretty black lady, y’know? I remembered to stay as polite and patient as I could because it doesn’t do to take your frustrations and fears out too early. No need to be an ass unless and until someone shows you their ass.
-deep breath- So I sat down in Mrs. B’s office. Her office is really nice-warm, brown tones and mini figurines, statues, and paintings of elephants everywhere. There are awards everywhere for her doing all she can to help students find the money to get where they need to go. Papers, folders, and sticky notes are also everywhere, but they’re well organized. Not chaotic at all.
I still had to bite my tongue when I sat down. Mrs. B prolly noticed it, since she said, “Thank you for taking the time to come and see me.”
And ya’ll…
In a nutshell? Because I still tear up a little bit thinking about it? This…this woman and whomever else she worked with…
What they did? They realized that a lot of students-not just me-were coming close to maxing out their financial aid, be it Pell Grants, loans, and everything else in-between. So they looked at all of the transcripts to see 1.) the student’s major and where they were on the path to completing that major and 2.) what, if any, classes they could omit from the student’s official count towards their usage of their financial aid, so long as it didn’t apply to their current major.
So for me? Well, remember that I’d initially attended this school for a medical assisting degree long, long before I came back for a nursing degree. Hell, long before I ever dreamed I’d even think about being a nurse. But a lot classes required to enter and get through the medical assisting program are not at all required to enter and get through the nursing program.
All of those classes that I didn’t use for nursing…they cut those out. And so that cut the amount of hours I used down and made the amount of Pell Grant that I have left go up.
As a result, I was covered for this semester and well into next semester.
I did not know they could do this. I had no idea they could do this.
I told Mrs. B that my mother still paid all of that money for my tuition. She asked me if I had a laptop or my phone on me. I pulled out my faithful Pinky and she commented on my cute rainbow-colored keyboard. She had me log into my school email, go to the financial aid tab…and see all of my Pell Grant that will come in the mail in the form of a check and straight back into our pockets, since my mother paid my tuition this time.
I started crying like the crybaby I am. I apologized to her and said I knew that she had many other students to see. But she just smiled at me, reached into her drawer to pull out some Dunkin’ Donuts napkins, and handed them to me so I could cry in peace. She said she actually had to go take care of some things outside of her office for a moment, so I was more than free to just sit there in the chair and cry my freakin’ heart out.
Once I got my bearings, I tearfully thanked her and went on my way. I sat outside on a bench and called Mommy to let her know the amazing news.
And, well…ya’ll, my Pell Grant was saved. Just so long as I can finish up this semester and then my last one next semester…holy fucking shit, I still have financial aid.
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It sounds like they could have notified you about what was going on in a way that didn't make it seem like the world was ending. But it's so good that the news was good in the end! Heroic use of creative paperwork on your behalf by that lovely, lovely lady.
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And heroic use indeed!!!
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I used to collect elephants and I still really like elephants cuz they are a big thing in Thailand and it makes me remember being happy there as a kid. Plus elephants are just neat and if there are people in stories who ride or hang out with elephants or something like them, like mammoths or whatever, those are my favorite people.
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Yeah, Mrs. B told me that she loves elephants so much that it's on her bucket list to one day travel to India or Africa (preferably Africa, since we black, teehee) and ride one! She'd like to do it soon after she retires from her post as financial aid office director.
I personally think I'm too heavy to ride an elephant (I know I'm too heavy to ride a horse), but I'd love to hug one around its trunk, just as I'd love to hug a horse around its neck!!
And I had no idea that you collected elephants and that you used to live in Thailand! I hear that just the flora of Thailand is breathtakingly beautiful. Once you go and see it, you'll never see anything more beautiful, wondrous, or diverse ever again!
Tell me more about your time in Thailand? It sounds amazing and wonderful!!!
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Pretty sure you wouldn't be too heavy to ride any elephants cuz they can put bit saddle-seat things on them and carry whole families.
Also they put cannons on them in at least one battle, at least according the movie Legend of Suriyothai. Small cannons, but still...
If I say lots of things about Thailand it will probably be on my journal. It's an amazing place but so are tons of place in Africa OMG. My parents got me a DVD of Africa's Great Civilizations for my birthday but I haven't gotten around to watching it yet, and I know it barely scratches the surface.
And the Swahili traders did a lot of business in SE Asia, so there was a cool part of Changa's Safari where they went over there and it was medieval Africa and medieval Asia all at once and I got to learn what some places my family visited used to be like centuries ago.
Now I'm wondering if anyone managed to, like, bring baby Asian elephants to Africa so they could have war elephants... IDK how that could work with boats but it seems like someone would want to try...
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But, uhh...they can carry whole families, you say? And cannons? Freakin' cannons?! I...had no idea about that, either (or I did, but I never really thought about it...yeah, that's more like it). Oh, wow, now I feel a bit better.
I can't wait to see more of what you'll write in your journal, friend!! Thailand, Africa, & Asia...all of it sounds amazing and wonderful and I do hope that I get the chance to visit all of them one day!! :D :D
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Also, it takes a very specific kind of person to want to take care of children on a daily basis. (I also think that now that you've seen it firsthand, you will have much more sympathy and empathy for someone who does that when they come to see you. Or if they come to see you and they have a fussy child.
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And no, yes. I have all the sympathy & empathy and the utmost respect for people that do this shit for a living. I done straight up told all of those ladies: you are all superheroes, you are all super humans, you are all just freaking amazing.
Like...I know that it's work that must be done, y'know? Parents work, run errands, etc. so they need their children to be in safe, capable hands during the day. And also, children need to go ahead & be socialized at those young ages (the youngest they took was about 1-years-old, AKA toddlers, which was the room I was mostly designated to).
So I do understand that it's work that must be done and sure as hell it's work that's largely underpaid & underappreciated (I think, in my state at least, that day care workers barely get paid over minimum wage). So yeah, I appreciate & respect the hell out of those that choose to do it!!
...I just can't do that shit myself. At all. Ever. For any reason. Haha...hah...hah.
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Also, yay Pell Grant check.
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And I mean, from what I've seen during my single day there, all of the teachers do enjoy their jobs & take immense pride in their work (not to say that they don't gripe & complain like everyone else, but y'know), but...they deserve to be fairly compensated. They work so, so freaking hard, often from sunup to sundown. Lord have mercy.
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Lord have mercy. Ugh.
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I'm glad Mrs B was so kind to you, and double glad you have financial aid.
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And yeah, Mrs. B really does do everything she can to help students out & make sure they continue to have the means to finish their education. ^ ^