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How A Popular University’s Free Undergraduate Program Changed My Son’s College Plan

Family Education Eric Jones 85 views

How A Popular University’s Free Undergraduate Program Changed My Son’s College Plan

My son Javi was 17, leaning over our chipped oak kitchen table last March, sorting through a stack of college brochures we’d collected at the local high school college fair. He crumpled the brochure from Arizona State University, the school he’d been talking about majoring in history at since he finished his sophomore year research paper on the New Deal, and tossed it toward the recycling bin. It bounced off the rim and landed in a pool of spilled iced coffee. “Tuition’s $12,000 a year just for in-state, and that’s not even room and board,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re not taking out that much debt for me to get a history degree. I’ll just go to community college part-time and work full-time.” I nodded, because I knew he was right. Between my part-time pay as a para at the elementary school and my husband’s landscaping business, we couldn’t cover that kind of cost, and we didn’t want Javi starting his adult life with six figures of debt before he even got his first full-time job.

A week later, Javi came home from his guidance counselor meeting and tossed a sticky note on the table. “Ms. Henderson said ASU has a free undergraduate program for people who qualify. It’s all online, same degree as the on-campus kids.” I was skeptical, of course. Every “free college” ad I’d ever seen had a catch—hidden fees, unaccredited degrees, or a bait-and-switch that left you paying more than you would at a local community college. That night, after Javi left for basketball practice, I pulled up the page on my laptop, and it was exactly what Ms. Henderson said. The program, for students from households making under $50,000 a year, covers full tuition for 10 different fully accredited bachelor’s degrees. You only pay $30 per exam for course materials, that’s it. It’s run by ASU, one of the largest and most well-known public universities in the country, and the degree you get is identical to the one students earn on campus.

Javi applied, got accepted within two weeks, and started his first class the next month, while he finished his senior year of high school. The first six weeks were rough. He’d set up his laptop on his bed in his room after school, and half the time he’d end up scrolling TikTok instead of watching his recorded lectures or doing the reading. I knocked on his door one night to ask how it was going, and he slammed his laptop shut. “It just feels fake,” he said. “No one knows I’m here. No professor checks if you did the work, no one reminds you the paper is due next week. It’s just me and a screen.”

That’s when we started making small, concrete changes, the same kinds of adjustments I use with my students who do remote learning for health or anxiety issues. First, we cleared out the unused corner of the kitchen table, the spot where we used to keep the holiday cookie platter year-round. We bought a $10 adjustable desk lamp from Walmart and hung a small corkboard above it for his syllabus and assignment due dates. We set a hard rule: between 4 and 6 PM on weekdays, that spot is Javi’s college space, no phones allowed except for emergency texts. If he gets stuck on a concept, I sit with him after I finish grading my students’ papers, and we work through it together. Second, I posted in our local parent of teens Facebook group asking if any other kids had been accepted to the program, and we connected with a 17-year-old girl a block over who’s starting the business degree track while working part-time at the local coffee shop. They meet for two hours every Saturday at the public library downtown to work on assignments side by side. It’s not a big formal study group, just two kids holding each other accountable.

As someone who works with high schoolers every day, I’ve started telling other parents about this option, and the first question everyone asks is what the catch is. There isn’t one, but it’s not for everyone. Javi still struggles some weeks—last month he missed a discussion post deadline when he had a high school final and a college midterm the same week, and he lost 10% off his final grade. He still says he wishes he could have the full on-campus experience: living in a dorm, going to football games, staying up late talking with roommates. That’s a real trade-off, and I don’t brush that off when other parents ask.

The practical things I tell people who are curious are simple. First, never go through a third-party link for free college. Go directly to the university’s official financial aid page to confirm the program, check that it’s accredited, and confirm that the degree your kid wants is actually offered. For this program, you apply to ASU Online first, then fill out a 20-minute application for the tuition waiver, and upload your last two tax forms to verify your income. It’s that straightforward. Second, no matter how responsible your kid is, don’t let them do all their school work from their bed. A separate dedicated space, even just a folding chair and a crate table in the corner of the living room, helps their brain switch into work mode and cuts down on distraction. Third, find at least one other person in person to work with regularly. It solves both the accountability problem and the loneliness that comes with most online learning.

Javi just finished his first full semester, and he walked out with a B+ in his first history class. He’s talking about applying to law school after he graduates, something he never would have considered a year ago, when he assumed he’d be paying off undergraduate debt for 20 years. It’s not the college experience I imagined for him when he was little, and there are still days I worry he’s missing out on parts of growing up that people say matter. But right now, he’s studying what he cares about, working 15 hours a week to cover his small fees and gas, and he’ll graduate with zero tuition debt. We still don’t know exactly what will happen after he walks across the graduation stage, but for the first time in two years, Javi doesn’t go to bed stressed about how he’ll pay for his degree. That’s enough, for now.

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