Splitting the tuition bill
After four years of university classes, I had a degree and a $25,000 student loan. This was more than twice the annual salary I was earning at the internship I started the day after graduation. It took me 10 years to pay off that debt. In fact, my son was in middle school by the time I made the final payment, and it felt good. Except that I immediately started hearing the warnings: If I thought my own student debt was suffocating, I better get ready for my kid's. Although projections were all over the map, they all went in the same direction: up.
My son, Calvin, applied to seven universities (a process that cost about $300). He was accepted to all but one, but I heaved a small sigh of relief at that: Ontario's Queen's University imposes some of the highest annual tuition fees ($10,395) for a bachelor of commerce. I suggested he try the University of Guelph (tuition: $5,270, closer to the national average), but none of his friends were going there. Overall, tuition in arts programs seemed fairly consistent across the country (falling somewhere around $4,700).
Corking the champagne and getting down to business
When the acceptance letters started arriving, Calvin and I took a few minutes to celebrate (he decided on the University of Western Ontario in London—tuition: $4,724), but we quickly had to cork the champagne and make a plan.
Here's the deal we made: I would pay for tuition, residence ($4,660), meal plan ($3,160) and trips home whenever he wanted ($50 round trip on the bus; attendance was mandatory on Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving and my birthday). Calvin was on the hook for books (about $600) and beer (some things a mother shouldn't know). I didn't want him to take a part-time job while he was at school, but I expected him to work summers and to pay for his personal supplies and entertainment.
It worked out to about a 90/10 split in his favour. We'd adjust the numbers every year (upping his contributions and moving toward a more equitable split), but for now, Calvin would need all his summer earnings to pay his part. I'd been contributing to his RESP for years and would use it to cover my part (over the course of Calvin's first year, I'd be saving money for his second year).
I should have known my strategy was flawed the day I dropped my business student off at his residence and we forked over $70 (cash only) for the strongly recommended welcome kit (complete with baseball cap, campus maps, various handouts, a water bottle and other forgettable crap). Over the course of the eight months Calvin was gone, the extra fees and expenses came regularly. Some of the amounts were a pittance, less than lunch money. But taken together, they put my numbers and my plan more than a bit off.
