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When Veronica Bumpus had the chance to attend college for free, right after high school, she didn’t take it seriously, she says. She had been in the West Virginia foster-care system from age 12 to 18 and could have had her college tuition fully paid, through the Chafee Education and Training Voucher program in her state. At the time, she was struggling both mentally and physically and didn’t see college as an option. But once she gave birth to her son, Bryson, she knew she wanted to get a college degree in human services. She felt called to a profession in social work, inspired by those who helped her while she was in foster care.
But by then, because it had been years since she graduated from high school, the tuition-free opportunity she once had was no longer on the table, and she was working full time at a rehabilitation center to support her family.
“I’m here advocating for all the single mothers who are trying to change their life and do better,” said Bumpus, 27, at a protest on Wednesday in Washington, D.C., that called on lawmakers to pass legislation making community college in America tuition free.
If Bumpus hadn’t had scholarship money and taken out loans, it would have cost roughly half of her yearly income to attend BridgeValley Community & Technical College, in South Charleston, W. Va., she said. She worries about how she will afford tuition next year, when she transfers to a four-year institution. She hopes to attend West Virginia State University.
Last week, President Biden told Democratic lawmakers that tuition-free community college would probably be cut from his infrastructure spending package, dealing a blow to college students and their advocates. Biden has been working with Congress to scale down the bill from $3.5 trillion over 10 years to between $1.75 and $1.9 billion, in an attempt to placate moderate Democrats, notably Sen. Joe Manchin III of West Virginia, who have said they won’t support the original proposal.
Education and civil-rights groups nationally have criticized the decision on college affordability. And Bumpus and about 50 other college students gathered in front of the U.S. Capitol on a breezy morning, holding signs with mottoes like “Fund Our HBCUs” and “Free College 4 All” scrawled on blue and orange paper. They had come from minority-serving institutions and community colleges all over the country. For many of them, it was their first time in Washington, D.C.
“When Biden and the members of Congress won their office, they did it because they promised to represent us, and right now, they’re doing a bad job of that,” said Nia Turner, a first-year student at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Mich.
Turner was disappointed to hear that the free-college provision of the bill could be cut. The only reason she was able to start college at all was her state’s program that guarantees two years of free community college. “I did not think I was going to be able to afford college,” Turner said.
Similar stories echoed throughout the group.
Zoe Bambara always knew she was going to attend a historically Black college. Her mom went to Howard University, and her dad went to Benedict College, in Columbia, S.C. But money was a problem. She pays for her education through scholarships and a monthly payment plan that she worked out with administrators at Morris Brown College, in Atlanta. Free college, though, would make it possible for her little brother to finish college and for her parents to return for advanced degrees.
The students were not only marching for free college. Some protesters also wanted lawmakers to double the Pell Grant and provide better funding for minority-serving institutions.
Growing up, Leisha Albert-Tulene grew frustrated watching the Native American community struggle with access to higher education, and in high school, college felt out of reach. Traumatized by the history of Native children being forced to attend boarding schools, the older generations on reservations were not pushing their children to attend colleges.
“It’s kind of hard for them to tell people to go to school, because of what they went through,” Albert-Tulene said.
She says that often, people leave the reservation to find jobs elsewhere after obtaining their degree. She’s a student at Tohono O’odham Community College, an institution that serves primarily Native students in Arizona, but she hopes that after graduation, she can pursue a career in social work and work for her reservation. “I want to go back and be the person that they can go to and they can trust,” she said.
Kate Hidalgo Bellows contributed reporting.
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