POSTCARD FROM MARYLAND

Byerly Hall. As I wait for the letter to come next month from the Financial Aid Office, I've been thinking about what an enormous impact my financial aid package has on my life and what Harvard could do to help its students.

All year The Crimson, along with every national newspaper, reported on a domino effect of financial aid policy reforms taking place at Ivy League and other "top tier" private universities, including Princeton, Yale, Stanford, MIT and the University of Pennsylvania. Usually, Harvard would sit up and take notice of what their fellow Ivies and neighbors were up to. However, as the student body looked on hopefully with each announcement of yet another school's more generous plans, the Harvard administration quietly but firmly held the line and supported its own current system.

Honestly, one of the reasons I came to Harvard was because of the financial aid policy. But I made that decision by comparing Harvard to other schools before they had improved their policies. Harvard has historically had a reputation of making sure that anyone they admit attends and continues to attend.

Now, after the other schools changed their policies, I have friends who went elsewhere and more that did not even bother to apply to Harvard because of the financial aid policy. But I do not want to attack Harvard; rather, I want to try to present the case for change and a few possible solutions.

First, there needs to be a discussion of financial aid in general. The goal of financial aid is to allow students with the necessary strengths, but without the necessary funds, to have the opportunity of going to college. This split the collegiate population into three groups. The first split is the easiest to see. It is between those who are sufficiently well off to pay tuition and those who are not. The second split is a little murkier. It is between those who are below a certain income level and receive loans and a job and have the rest covered by grants, and those who are wealthy enough to be responsible for more than the maximum federal loan amounts but not wealthy enough to pay off the bills as they come.

The latter two groups are at a disadvantage to the first. But, such a statement is fairly obvious, right? Well, maybe so, but the implications are important. Take writing for The Crimson or applying to medical school as examples. If you are responsible for working 10-15 hours a week, are you really going to be able to compete for grades or participate as fully as you would like in your extracurriculars compared to those who do not have the same job requirement? Will you be able to afford to take that high-profile unpaid internship?

But everyone's busy, and everyone has commitments. Beyond these problems, much more importantly, will you be able to follow your dreams? Regardless of whether you are dreaming of social work, academia or becoming an entrepreneur, your loans may be what send you towards more lucrative careers like investment banking or consulting. It has even been proposed that the choice of major (or concentration) can be affected by financial aid, with those on financial aid choosing more "practical" degrees.

Although financial aid news from the outside world seemed to be shaking Harvard's ivory tower, the near 80 percent yield for the class of 2002 seemed to put the issue to rest. With a record-high yield, the argument seems to go, our financial aid policy does not need to change. But there is a fundamental flaw to this argument. Students who fall into the second and especially the third financial aid categories may simply decide, like my friends, that the cost of a Harvard education outweighs its benefits and may not even apply. However, while the middle and working class applicants may drop, the upper-class applicants could continue at the same or higher levels.

How can the current policies be changed? There is a fairly painless short-term possibility. Every student who lives in University housing is required to purchase a 21-meal plan package. But when you get to Harvard, you realize that it is almost impossible to get everything done and still eat breakfast. Also, you may have class or have to work through lunch or even practice through dinner. The point is, no one eats all 21 meals. Harvard Dining Services has stated that its budget is based on the assumption that students will eat an average of only 14 meals. Nevertheless, it is likely that greater flexibility in the meal plan would be economically beneficial to students. Given the amount charged for room and board, if the administration allowed a 14 or even seven meal a week plan, it seems logical that they could thereby cut room and board by at least one and maybe even two thousand dollars. Considering that many students make that much money over the summer, it would be a small but thoughtful concession.

But Harvard can afford to make more substantive changes. With a multi-billion dollar endowment that could support a prosperous small nation and the goal to educate the future leaders of the world, Harvard should not only follow the lead of other universities, it should lead them and institute a policy of reducing tuition. After an article in Time Magazine last March declared that if Harvard spent another percent of the endowment it could cut undergraduate tuition nearly in half, it has been a tantalizing notion.

While Harvard is clearly not prepared simply to halve or eliminate tuition, it seems reasonable that it can significantly improve financial aid packages without considerable financial consequences. It has been reported that Harvard's extra hours in the financial aid office this spring allowed them to woo graduating high school seniors with individual deals. Why not simply be open and fair and help all students with a more generous financial aid plan, generating both gratitude (a good quality in alumni) and good publicity?

Sarah E. Henrickson '01, a biochemistry concentrator in Mather House, is working this summer in a lab at the National Institute of Standards and Technology, trying to figure out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.