My freshman year roommate at Bryn Mawr came from a working class family in New Hampshire. Candice was entitled to as much need-based tuition aid as the school could give. But instead she left after one semester $17,411.43 in debt.

When a student from a working-class family gets accepted to an elite college like Bryn Mawr, it’s an achievement. As a mother, I know that I would be proud of my daughter if she gained entry to such a prestigious institution, most especially if I had no money or connections to offer.

So why did Candice leave after one semester? Was Candice a hot mess? Did she need to go to rehab or a psych ward? No. She was cool, calm and collected. Wise beyond her years. Did she flunk out?? No. She was a disciplined student and passed all of her classes.

Eighteen years ago, when Candice and I were both seventeen years old, I didn’t fully understand why she left. I remember the solemnity that engulfed the Radnor dormitory, like a dark cloud. It has haunted me ever since that I didn’t try to help. A few weeks ago I found her and called her. I never expected her story to be so surreal.

Candice left Bryn Mawr because of a problem that affects most (if not all) women, but especially women who lack power: Lying Men. Who among us has not been injured by the lies coming out of some man’s mouth? #MeToo

This was not your everyday liar, though. Candice’s stepfather was literally on the lam. She asked him to fill out the FAFSA forms required for financial aid, but he refused. He lied repeatedly, promising to pay for her schooling. It was only later she learned that he was a con man and fugitive from the law. This is the reason he couldn’t put his real social security number on official forms.

Candice was accepted into Bryn Mawr, and the school asked her parents to submit payment information. To this day, she does not know what document he gave the school. But she was admitted. Months later, out of the blue, she received a notification that her first semester would be her last. They treated Candice like she was an imposter, and summarily kicked her out.

Then came the bill: $17,411.43

It took years for Candice to rebuild her life after that setback. Do you know how hard it is to pay off $17,411.43 in debt on minimum wage? Especially when you, at the age of 17, are the designated adult in your family and you are the one who gathers the lost sheep?

The stepfather was not only a liar, but abusive too. The heartbreaking end to her college career was the last straw, and Candice never went back to her home. She slept on couches, eventually getting back on her feet. She finished college at a state school near her family in New Hampshire. This time she knew to fill out the FAFSA forms as an independent.

Bryn Mawr administration apparently tried for months to reach Candice’s stepfather, but he had cut the phone line to their house, which she didn’t realize at the time. Then, years later, her mother called Candice from outside of a women's shelter near Idaho Falls. He left his family on the side of the road and vanished. Candice’s mother divorced him by publication, which was finalized just this year.

I don’t know about you, but the only time I can remember hearing the phrase “on the lam,” was in the 1934 movie with Clarke Gable and Claudette Colbert. “On the lam” means you’re a fugitive from the law, wanted for arrest. I’m sure it wasn’t a situation that Bryn Mawr administration had encountered before.

I do not harbor ill will towards Bryn Mawr. They are an elite school, and are accustomed to dealing with people whose paperwork is in order. They likely are accustomed to dealing with women whose lawyers appear, if they are mistreated. I do have some lingering questions for Bryn Mawr, though:


1.    “There are no admissions mistakes,” they told us during Freshman Orientation, “At Bryn Mawr, we know intimately every candidate whom we admit. You belong here.” If there are no admissions mistakes, then why was Candice asked to leave? Why not billed but allowed to stay?

2.    Let’s say Candice was an admissions mistake, i.e. she would not have gotten in, had she accurately disclosed her financial situation. OK, well if she didn’t really get in, then she isn’t eligible for the course credits of the classes she passed, and shouldn’t be billed for them, right?

3.    Candice was a minor, and she was billed for services based on fraudulent forms that an adult guardian submitted on her behalf without her knowledge. Why wasn’t the bill issued to her stepfather instead? Why punish a child for fraud that wasn’t her fault?


Personally I have no doubt that Candice was admitted on merit. A lot of elite colleges and universities profess to be “need-sensitive.” This means that they admit students mostly on merit, but everyone knows that this isn’t exactly true. Screeners know with near certainty who will be able to pay, based on zip code, high school and address. Nowadays it’s even easier with Google Maps.

Eighteen years later, I am still haunted by the fact that I witnessed my friend’s world disintegrate, and it did not even occur to me to try to help. There was no social media at the time. We couldn't drag Bryn Mawr on Facebook or Twitter. We couldn't set up a GoFundMe campaign. I could have recruited angry parents to phone the school. I think even five sets of angry parents calling would have convinced the college to reverse their decision. But I didn't.

When you’re vulnerable, whether it’s because you’re too trusting, or you lack resources, it simply increases the likelihood that movie-villain type people will enter your life. Life is just more dangerous if you can’t afford a good lawyer. If Bryn Mawr is really going to be “sensitive” to “need,” they need to care about the messed up circumstances that sometimes constitute need itself.

I doubt Candice is a perfect person. But I know one thing for sure: Candice belonged at Bryn Mawr. Her achievement was stolen from her, and to my knowledge nobody at Bryn Mawr tried to help her except one woman in the admissions office, Carol Steiner (who is now retired). Years later Candice wrote her a heartfelt letter, thanking her for believing.

The other thing I know for sure: Candice deserves a Resilience Prize. We can’t go back in time and make things right, but we can help Candice achieve the sorts of things that a Bryn Mawr degree might have helped her achieve: A down payment, a nest egg, a rainy day fund… whatever she chooses to do with it.

My goal is to raise $139,291.44 ($17,411.43 times eight semesters).

For some of us, a hundred grand is a rounding error. For others, it’s a lot of money. Give whatever you can give. I recommend 5% of your short-term savings. It’s money many of us will never miss much. The Radnor Soul lost a bright light the day Candice left. It’s never too late to buy your soul back, though.

For obvious reasons, I don’t want to include too much detail about Candice’s current whereabouts, but I can tell you that she is the same responsible, resilient Candice today that she was eighteen years ago. Your money will be well spent. If you are a Bryn Mawr alumnus, and you wish to contact her, I can extend your wishes to her, and help connect the two of you!

 

All the very best, with love and gratitude,

Lilian Bürgler