The Working-Class Recession: How the Educated Underclass is Already in Crisis

For millions of Americans with college degrees, the headlines about a “possible recession” feel like a cruel joke. While official statistics lag, the lived reality for the educated underclass—those with bachelor’s or advanced degrees who are struggling to maintain stability—is nothing short of an economic depression. Rising costs of living, stagnating wages, and dwindling job security have already reshaped daily life, and many are barely hanging on.

Unemployment figures tell only part of the story. College graduates now make up a record 25% of the unemployed, with white-collar layoffs in tech, finance, and even healthcare rising. Those who are employed are often underemployed, working multiple part-time jobs or in positions that barely require a degree. The promise that a college credential ensures upward mobility is eroding rapidly, leaving a generation of highly educated Americans questioning the value of the very investment that was supposed to secure their future.

Housing costs are skyrocketing, especially in urban centers where jobs are concentrated. Even modest apartments demand incomes far above what many professional graduates earn. Student loan debt compounds the pressure, forcing difficult trade-offs between basic living expenses and debt repayment. For many, “making it” now means moving back in with parents or sharing crowded apartments with friends—situations reminiscent of a pre-adult adolescence prolonged indefinitely.

Meanwhile, inflation eats away at savings. Food prices, healthcare, and transportation costs continue to climb, leaving little room for discretionary spending or emergency funds. The safety net that the previous generation relied on—a stable job, homeownership, a modest retirement plan—is increasingly inaccessible. For the educated underclass, financial precarity has become normalized, even invisible to those who still enjoy some buffer in the broader economy.

The psychological toll is real. Anxiety, depression, and burnout are rampant among highly educated professionals facing underemployment or precarious work conditions. The “American Dream” has shifted from upward mobility to merely surviving, with little room for long-term planning or security.

Policymakers continue to debate whether a recession is coming, but for many, the recession has already arrived. It’s not marked by dramatic market crashes or bold headlines—it is quiet, slow, and insidious, felt in empty savings accounts, missed rent payments, and jobs that fail to match education and ambition. Recognizing this reality is the first step toward meaningful change. Until then, the educated underclass is living through an economic depression, one degree at a time.

From Classroom Crisis to System Change: How One Educator Turned Her Son’s Story Into a Lifeline for Schools

Jessica Werner, Ph.D., CEO and Founder of Northshore Learning, has spent more than 20 years as an educator, specialist, and advocate for students with complex needs. But the turning point in her work didn’t come in a classroom or at a conference. It came the day her own son was asked to leave preschool.

Her son, who has a behavior disorder, was struggling in a setting that wasn’t prepared to support him. Eventually, the preschool told Jessica that his needs were too complex and that he could no longer attend.

In an instant, the roles shifted. Jessica, who had spent years helping schools strengthen their systems and better support students, suddenly found herself on the other side of the table — as a parent being told that her child didn’t fit.

“He won’t be the last child you see like this,” Werner told the preschool administration. “While I understand that you can’t support him now, just know, there will be more coming.”

She was right.

A Full-Circle Moment

Several years later, the same school reached back out to Jessica.

They were now seeing more students like her son. They saw children with higher needs, complex behaviors, and significant regulation and emotional challenges. Their teachers were overwhelmed. Their existing tools, training, and systems weren’t enough.

They needed help.

Jessica agreed without hesitation. Today, she partners with that school to train and mentor its teachers. The same system that once had to ask her son to leave is now working with her to build capacity, compassion, and practical tools for the next generation of students.

What was once a personal heartbreak has become a catalyst for change.

“The Hardest Part of Teaching Wasn’t the Teaching”

Jessica’s journey started like that of so many teachers: with passion, heart, and a deep belief that she could make a difference.

She did not expect what she experienced in her first year.

“The hardest part of teaching wasn’t the teaching,” she recalls. “It was the behavior, regulation, and emotional needs of my students, and I wasn’t prepared.”

Like many new educators, she had strong content knowledge and a solid academic foundation. But she quickly realized that her students needed more than lessons. They needed support with self-regulation, behavior, and emotional safety. And she needed a different kind of training to meet those needs.

Determined not to leave the profession, Jessica made a decision that would shape the rest of her career. She spent an entire summer interviewing experts, seeking out mentors, attending trainings, and rebuilding her approach from the ground up.

She returned to the classroom as, in her words, “a completely new teacher.”

A Story Playing Out in Schools Everywhere

Jessica’s experience is no longer an exception; it is increasingly the norm.

Schools across the country and around the world are grappling with a similar reality:

• Teachers are overwhelmed by rising student behavior and mental-health needs.
  
  

• Parents are navigating systems that are stretched thin and often not designed for the level of complexity they now face.
  
  

• Administrators are struggling to support staff and maintain stability in a post-COVID landscape.
  
  

• Schools are searching desperately for tools, training, and models that actually work in today’s classrooms.
  

The gap between what students need and what schools are prepared to provide has grown too large to ignore. Teachers report burnout at record levels. Classrooms are more complex than ever. And children like Jessica’s son are often the first to fall through the cracks when systems can’t keep up.

Bridging the Gap

Jessica’s work now sits directly in that gap.

Drawing on her experience as a teacher, specialist, and mother of a child with a behavior disorder, she partners with schools worldwide to:

• Train and mentor educators in behavior and regulation support
  
  

• Help schools build systems that are proactive rather than reactive

• Equip staff with practical tools for de-escalation, connection, and co-regulation

• Support administrators in creating sustainable, teacher-friendly frameworks

Her mission is simple, but profound: support teachers, understand students, and prepare schools for today’s classrooms.

That mission is rooted in both research and lived experience. Jessica knows the strain educators are under. She knows the heartbreak parents feel when systems can’t support their children. And she knows that with the right training and structures, schools can become places where both kids and adults are more regulated, supported, and successful.

Preparing for the Students Already Walking Through the Door

When Jessica told her son’s preschool, “There will be more coming,” she wasn’t issuing a threat. She was naming a truth that many schools are only now beginning to fully confront.

The students are already here: children with trauma histories, behavior disorders, anxiety, depression, autism, ADHD, and complex emotional needs. Post-pandemic, their numbers and needs have only intensified.

What began as a painful personal experience, having her own child turned away, has become a full-circle story of partnership and possibility. The same school that once said, “We can’t do this,” now says, “Help us learn how.”

For Jessica Werner, the work is deeply professional and personal. And for the schools she serves, it’s essential.

Security Threats: Groypers on Campus

Across the United States, far-right networks have quietly built their presence on college campuses—not through mass rallies or overt displays, but through a loose coalition of digital activists and in-person operatives known as Groypers.

The Groypers, inspired by the alt-right, white-nationalist, and “America First” ecosystems of the late 2010s and early 2020s, represent a new iteration of extremist youth organizing: savvy, antagonistic, and optimized for a social-media landscape where attention is currency and disruption is strategy.

Their influence is not as visible as Turning Point USA tabling events or Young America’s Foundation speaker tours. Instead, the Groyper presence grows through infiltration, targeted disruption, and online radicalization that spills into student life. As economic anxiety and political distrust intensify, campuses have become fertile ground for this phenomenon.

What Are Groypers?
Groypers are part of a decentralized far-right subculture aligned with white-nationalist figures and Christian nationalist ideologues. They are not a formal organization; rather, they are a network of memetic identities, recognizable by:
the cartoon Groyper frog mascot (an offshoot of the Pepe image ecosystem),
online anonymity/alter-egos,
ideological tropes centered on nativism, Christian nationalism, and “white identity,”
disruptive tactics aimed at embarrassing mainstream conservatives and intimidating progressive students.

Their overall goal is to pull young conservatives—and disaffected apolitical students—toward a more extreme worldview.

Why Campuses Are Targets
1. Transitional Vulnerability
First-year students often experience isolation, uncertainty, and identity formation. Groypers prey on this transitional moment by offering belonging, brotherhood, and contrarian confidence.

2. Political Vacuum
As universities retreat from serious civic education and as student affairs offices shrink under austerity, space opens for fringe networks to fill the ideological void.

3. Online Radicalization Pipelines
Groypers thrive in places like:

Discord
Telegram
X/Twitter
anonymous forums
niche livestream communities

Campus life becomes an extension of these networks, where online provocations evolve into real-world harassment or orchestrated spectacle.

4. Conservative Student Groups as Entry Points
Mainstream Republican or “free speech” groups are often targeted for infiltration. Groypers show up:
to push Q&A sessions into racist or antisemitic talking points,
to pressure student Republicans to shift further right,
to create rifts between libertarian, traditional conservative, and MAGA factions.

The strategy is division, not dialogue.

Common Groyper Tactics on Campus
1. Ambush Questioning
At public lectures or campus Republican events, Groypers coordinate to dominate Q&A sessions, posing racially charged or conspiratorial questions designed to go viral.

2. Online Harassment and Dogpiling
Students—often women, LGBTQ+ students, or activists—find themselves targeted with:

brigade attacks,
doxxing attempts,
edited clips taken out of context,
swarm-like intimidation.

3. Misery Farming
Groypers intentionally provoke negative reactions to harvest “proof” that campuses are hostile to conservatives. This content is then fed into national media pipelines.

4. Grooming and Recruitment
They seek out students who feel:
lonely
unsupported
resentful
ideologically adrift
economically anxious

A mix of dark humor, contrarian bravado, and “insider knowledge” becomes the grooming pathway.

The Institutional Problem: Campuses Are Not Prepared
Universities often misread these actors as:
“just trolls,”
“rowdy conservatives,”
“free speech activists.”

They’re not.

Groypers are engaged in ideological recruitment and targeted harassment that can escalate into threats, coordinated disruption, and offline violence. Yet institutions remain slow to respond because:
they lack digital literacy,
they fear backlash from right-wing media,
they outsource security and student affairs to PR firms,
administrators underestimate decentralized extremist networks.

Faculty—especially contingent or early-career academics—often feel unsupported or intimidated.

How Groypers Fit into the Larger Campus Crisis
The Groypers’ rise exposes deeper fractures:
neoliberal hollowing of the university
growing distrust in democratic institutions
political polarization fueled by billionaire-backed media
the decline of genuine civic education
surveillance capitalism and algorithmic radicalization

Campuses have become battlegrounds—not by accident, but because they sit at the intersection of youth, identity, technology, and national politics.

What Higher Education Must Do Now
Universities need to respond with clarity, not panic, and with structural solutions, not symbolic statements.

1. Treat Digital Extremism as Part of Student Safety
This means training staff, hiring specialists, and supporting targets of online harassment.

2. Reinvest in Human Infrastructure
Student Affairs, counseling centers, and campus journalism must be strengthened—not cut or replaced with outsourcing contracts.

3. Support Independent Investigative Student Journalism
Student reporters are often the first to detect radicalization trends—but only if their newsrooms are funded and protected.

4. Protect Academic Freedom Without Ceding Ground to Harassment
“Free speech” cannot be a shield for sustained intimidation campaigns.

5. Strengthen Civic Education Rooted in Truth and Inclusion
The real antidote to extremism is not censorship—it’s meaningful democratic literacy.

Seeing the Threat Clearly
Groypers are not the dominant force on campus. Most students reject their worldview. But they are a growing presence within a broader crisis where U.S. higher education lacks the stability, funding, and courage to defend its mission.

The real danger is not the meme or the mascot—it’s the vacuum that allows extremist networks to flourish.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue monitoring this issue as the 2026 and 2028 election cycles approach, when radical groups often intensify campus recruitment and provocation.

America Under Fire: Political Violence, Systemic Oppression, and the Role of Higher Education

The ambush shooting of two National Guardsmen near the White House on November 27, 2025, by Rahmanullah Lakanwal, a 29-year-old Afghan national, is the latest in a growing wave of politically motivated violence that has engulfed the United States since 2024. Lakanwal opened fire on uniformed service members stationed for heightened security, wounding both. Federal authorities are investigating whether ideological motives drove the attack, which comes against a backdrop of escalating domestic and international tensions. This ambush cannot be understood in isolation. It is part of a larger pattern of domestic political violence that has claimed lives across ideological lines. 

Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated at Utah Valley University during a campus event in September 2025. Minnesota state representative Mary Carlson and her husband were murdered in their home by a man impersonating law enforcement, while a state senator and spouse were injured in the same spree. Governor Josh Shapiro survived an arson attack on his residence earlier this year. Even Donald Trump was the target of an assassination attempt in July 2024. Added to this grim tally are incidents such as the 2025 Manhattan mass shooting, in which young professionals, including two Jewish women, Julia Hyman and Wesley LePatner, were killed, and the Luigi Mangione case, in which a former student allegedly killed a corporate executive in New York. Together, these incidents reveal a nation in which lethal violence increasingly intersects with politics, identity, and ideology.

The domestic escalation of violence cannot be separated from broader structures of oppression. Migrants and asylum seekers face detention, family separation, and deportation under the authority of ICE, often in conditions described as inhumane, creating fear and vulnerability among refugee communities. Routine encounters with law enforcement disproportionately harm Black, Indigenous, Latinx, and other marginalized communities. Excessive force and lethal policing add to communal distrust, reinforcing perceptions that violence is a sanctioned tool of the state. Political rhetoric compounds the problem. President Trump and other political leaders have repeatedly framed immigrants, political opponents, and even students as threats to national security, implicitly legitimizing aggressive responses and providing fodder for extremist actors.

The domestic situation is further complicated by U.S. foreign policy, which has often contributed to global instability while modeling the use of violence as an instrument of governance. In Palestine, military aid to Israel coincides with attacks on civilians and infrastructure that human-rights organizations describe as ethnic cleansing or genocide. In Venezuela, U.S. sanctions, threats, and proxy operations have intensified humanitarian crises and political instability. Complicity with the governments of the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Russia enables human-rights abuses abroad while emboldening domestic actors who mimic state-sanctioned violence. These global policies reverberate at home, influencing public discourse, shaping extremist narratives, and creating a climate in which political and ideological violence is increasingly normalized.

Higher education sits at the nexus of these domestic and global pressures. Universities and colleges are not merely observers; they are active participants and, in some cases, victims. The assassination of Charlie Kirk on a campus underscores that institutions of learning are no longer insulated from lethal political conflict. Alumni, recent graduates, and professionals—such as the victims of the Manhattan shooting—are affected even after leaving school, revealing how closely academic networks intersect with broader societal risks. International and refugee students, particularly from Afghan and Middle Eastern communities, face heightened anxiety due to restrictive immigration policies, anti-immigrant rhetoric, and the real threat of violence. Faculty teaching topics related to immigration, race, U.S. foreign policy, or genocide are increasingly targeted by harassment, threats, and institutional pressures that suppress academic freedom. The cumulative stress of political violence, systemic oppression, and global conflicts creates trauma that universities must address comprehensively, both for students and faculty.

Higher education cannot prevent every act of violence, nor can it resolve the nation’s deep political fractures. But it can model ethical and civic engagement, defending inquiry and speech without succumbing to fear or political pressure. It can extend support to vulnerable communities, promote critical thinking about the domestic roots of political violence and the consequences of U.S. foreign policy, and foster ethical reflection that counters the normalization of aggression. Silence or passivity risks complicity. Universities must recognize that the threats affecting campuses, alumni, and students are interconnected with broader systems of power and oppression, both domestic and global.

From the White House ambush to Charlie Kirk’s assassination, from the Minnesota legislators’ murders to the Manhattan mass shooting, from Luigi Mangione’s high-profile killing to systemic violence enforced through ICE and police overreach, and amid the influence of incendiary political rhetoric and U.S. complicity in violence abroad, the United States is experiencing an unprecedented convergence of domestic and international pressures. Higher education sits at the center of these converging forces, and how it responds will shape not only campus safety and academic freedom but also the broader civic health of the nation. The challenge is immense: to uphold democratic values, protect communities, and educate students in a society increasingly defined by fear, extremism, and violence.

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Sources

Reuters. “FBI probes gunman’s motives in ambush shooting of Guardsmen near White House.” The Guardian. Coverage on suspect identification and political reaction. AP News. Statements by national leaders following attacks. Washington Post. Analysis of domestic violent extremism and political violence trends. People Magazine. Reporting on Minnesota legislator assassination. NBC/AP. Statements by Gov. Josh Shapiro after Charlie Kirk’s killing. Utah Valley University and local ABC/Fox affiliates on the Kirk shooting. Jewish Journal, ABC7NY. Coverage of Manhattan mass shooting and Jewish victims. Reuters. Luigi Mangione case and court proceedings. Human Rights Watch / Amnesty International reports on Palestine, Venezuela, UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Russia. Brookings Institute. Analysis of political violence and domestic extremism. CSIS. “Domestic Extremism and Political Violence in the United States.”

America’s Creepiest College Presidents

Across the United States, a quiet but unmistakable chill has settled over many college campuses. It isn’t the weather. It’s the behavior of a particular class of leaders—the college presidents whose decisions, priorities, and public personas have begun to feel, for lack of a better word, creepy. Not criminal, necessarily. Not always abusive in the legal sense. Just profoundly unsettling in ways that undermine trust, erode shared governance, and push higher education further into the shadows of authoritarianism and corporate capture.

This piece introduces criteria for what makes a college president “creepy,” highlights examples of the types of leaders who fit the mold, and invites reader feedback to build a more accountable public record.

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Criteria for a “Creepy” College President

“Creepy” here is not about personality quirks. It’s about behavior, power, and material consequences. Based on the reporting and analysis at HEI, we propose the following criteria:

1. First Amendment Hostility

Presidents who suppress speech, restrict student journalism, punish dissent, or hide behind overbroad “time, place, and manner” rules fall squarely into this category. The creepiness intensifies when universities hire outside PR firms or surveillance contractors to monitor campus critics, including students and faculty.

2. Student Rights Violations

Presidents who treat students as risks rather than people, who hide data on assaults, who enable over-policing by campus security, or who weaponize conduct codes to silence protest movements—from Palestine solidarity groups to climate activists—fit the profile.

3. Civil Rights Erosion

Administrators who undermine Title IX protections, retaliate against whistleblowers, protect abusive coaches, or ignore discrimination complaints are not just negligent—they’re institutionally creepy. Their public statements about “inclusion” often ring hollow when compared with their actions behind closed doors.

4. Worker Rights Suppression

Union busting. Outsourcing. Wage stagnation. Anti-transparency tactics. Presidents who preach community while crushing collective bargaining efforts, freezing staff pay, or firing outspoken employees through “restructuring” deserve a place on any such list.

5. Climate Denial or Delay

Presidents who sign glossy climate pledges yet continue fossil-fuel investments, partner with extractive corporations, or suppress environmental activism on campus epitomize a uniquely twenty-first-century creepiness: a willingness to sacrifice future generations to maintain donor relationships and boardroom comfort.

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Examples: The Multi-Modal Creep Typology

Rather than name only individuals—something readers can help expand—we outline several recognizable types. These composites reflect the emerging patterns seen across U.S. higher education.

The Surveillance Chancellor

Obsessed with “campus safety,” this president quietly expands the university’s security apparatus: license plate readers at entrances, contracts with predictive-policing vendors, facial recognition “pilots,” and backdoor relationships with state or federal agencies. Their speeches emphasize “community,” but their emails say “monitoring.”

The Union-Busting Visionary

This leader talks the language of innovation and social mobility while hiring anti-union law firms to intimidate graduate workers and dining staff. Their glossy strategic plans promise “belonging,” but their HR memos rewrite job classifications to avoid paying benefits.

The Donor-Driven Speech Regulator

Terrified of upsetting trustees, corporate sponsors, or wealthy alumni, this president cracks down on student protests, bans certain speakers, or manipulates disciplinary procedures to neutralize campus activism. They invoke “civility” while undermining the First Amendment.

The DEI-Washing Chief Executive

This president loves diversity statements—for marketing. Meanwhile, they ignore racial harassment complaints, target outspoken faculty of color, or cut ethnic studies under the guise of “realignment.” Their commitment to equity is perfectly proportional to the next accreditation review.

The Climate Hypocrite

At Earth Day, they pose with solar panels. In the boardroom, they argue that divesting from fossil fuels is “unrealistic.” Student climate groups often face administrative smothering, and sustainability staffers are rotated out when they ask uncomfortable questions.

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Why “Creepiness” Matters

Creepy leaders normalize:

• an erosion of democratic rights on campus,

• the quiet expansion of surveillance,

• the targeting of vulnerable students and workers, and

• a form of managerial governance that undermines the public purpose of higher education.

Higher education is supposed to be a refuge for inquiry, dissent, creativity, and collective imagination. Presidents who govern through fear—whether subtle or overt—pose a deeper threat than those who merely mismanage budgets. They hollow out the civic core of academic life.

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A Call for Reader Feedback

HEI is building a more comprehensive and accountable registry of America’s Creepiest College Presidents, and we want your help.

• Who on your campus fits these criteria?

• Which presidents (past or present) deserve examination?

• What specific stories, patterns, or documents should be highlighted?

• What additional criteria should be added for future reporting?

Send your confidential tips, analyses, and suggestions. Together, we can shine light into administrative corners that have remained dark for far too long.

Higher Education Inquirer welcomes further input and encourages readers to share this article with colleagues, student groups, labor organizers, and university newspapers.

US Senate Reopens the Government—But Leaves the Working Class Behind

The U.S. Senate’s vote to reopen the federal government on Sunday will likely end a painful 40-day shutdown, but it does so at a cost that goes far beyond missed paychecks and delayed services. The deal, driven by pressure to restore “normalcy,” comes with an implicit betrayal: millions of Americans who rely on Affordable Care Act (ACA) subsidies are being left in limbo.

Those subsidies—lifelines for low- and middle-income Americans—are now set to expire at the end of the year. The so-called “continuing resolution” passed the Senate with bipartisan relief, but no guarantee that these critical supports will continue. In practical terms, Congress chose to reopen the government by walking away from those who most need its help.

A Shutdown Ends, but the Austerity Logic Continues

The 2025 shutdown was the longest in modern U.S. history, the result of partisan fights over spending and political maneuvering around health care. During that time, millions of Americans faced uncertainty: furloughed workers, delayed SNAP benefits, shuttered Head Start centers, and frozen federal contracts.

Now that the government is back in business, the same austerity logic remains intact. While defense spending and tax breaks for the wealthy are protected, basic supports like subsidized health insurance are treated as optional. It’s a familiar story—one that echoes through higher education, housing, and labor markets.

The End of ACA Subsidies Means a New Working-Class Squeeze

The ACA subsidies that expanded during the pandemic allowed millions of Americans—often those working multiple jobs without employer coverage—to afford health care for the first time. With their expiration looming, premiums are expected to skyrocket. For some, costs could double or triple.

This isn’t just about “health care.” It’s about how the American system continually shifts burdens downward. Families will make impossible choices: health coverage or rent, insulin or food, doctor visits or student loan payments.

At the same time, Senate Republicans have embraced Donald Trump’s renewed call to “replace Obamacare”—a move that could dismantle what’s left of the safety net altogether. 

The Broader Pattern: Abandoning the Working Class

The Senate’s actions fit a larger pattern of bipartisan neglect. Each “deal” that avoids short-term crisis seems to deepen long-term inequity.

• In health care: subsidies expire, Medicaid rolls shrink, and hospital mergers raise costs.

• In higher education: student debtors are promised relief but face new barriers, while for-profit and “online program management” companies continue to profit.

• In housing: low-income tenants are told to prove future earnings or risk eviction, even as rent outpaces inflation.

• In labor: wage stagnation persists, union power declines, and automation and AI make employment more precarious.

For Generation Z and millennials—already burdened with debt, low job security, and unaffordable housing—the message is consistent: you’re on your own.

Health and Education: Two Fronts of the Same Struggle

Health and education are supposed to be public goods, but both have become profit centers managed by corporate intermediaries and politicians chasing donors.

In health care, private insurers dominate ACA marketplaces. In higher ed, the same dynamic exists: online program managers (OPMs) and corporate lenders extract money while students shoulder debt. The government’s role becomes one of stabilizing markets—not stabilizing lives.

And when the working class pushes back—through union drives, debt strikes, or demands for universal health care—they’re met with the same refrain: “We can’t afford it.”

Austerity in a Time of Plenty

What’s striking is that this “fiscal responsibility” always targets the vulnerable. There’s no serious debate about clawing back corporate tax breaks or limiting Pentagon contracts. But when it comes to healthcare subsidies or student loan forgiveness, the belt suddenly tightens.

The working class subsidizes the rich, while being told that government aid is an indulgence. This political economy of scarcity has consequences—measured in bankruptcies, untreated illness, and despair.

Which Side Are You On?

When Woody Guthrie’s generation faced inequality, they had a rallying cry:

“Which side are you on, boys, which side are you on?”

That question remains as urgent as ever. The Senate’s decision to reopen government while discarding health care protections for millions tells us whose side Washington is on—and it’s not the side of the working class.

Until policymakers see health, housing, and education as human rights rather than bargaining chips, “reopening government” will be little more than a hollow ritual of restoration—for a system that keeps leaving its people behind.

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Sources:

• Time: “What to Know About the Deal to End the Shutdown” (Nov. 2025)

• Al Jazeera: “US Senate nears vote on bill to end 40-day government shutdown” (Nov. 2025)

• Financial Times: “Senators take first step to end US government shutdown” (Nov. 2025)

• The Guardian: “Senate Republicans embrace Trump’s call to replace Obamacare” (Nov. 2025)

• Detroit Free Press: “Michigan's U.S. senators reject deal to end shutdown” (Nov. 2025)

Growing Up Later, Paying Longer: How Extended Adolescence Deepens the Student Loan Crisis

Recent neuroscience is challenging everything we thought we knew about adulthood. A landmark study from the University of Cambridge finds that our brains remain in an “adolescent” phase until around age 32. During this extended period, the brain undergoes major structural rewiring, improving connectivity, executive function, and decision-making. In other words, young adults in their 20s and early 30s are still biologically refining the very skills society expects them to rely on for financial independence.

Yet economic realities tell a different story. In the United States, the average college graduate carries over $30,000 in student loan debt, with repayment often starting immediately after graduation. For students pursuing graduate or professional school — law, medicine, business, or PhDs — debt often doubles or triples, and repayment is further delayed, sometimes beginning in the late 20s or early 30s. This period coincides precisely with the brain’s extended adolescent development phase, when executive function, risk assessment, and long-term planning are still maturing.

For many working-class students, this biological-economic mismatch is compounded by trauma and systemic inequality. Students from lower-income families may enter college already carrying family debt, needing to work multiple jobs, or facing housing insecurity. Borrowing to attend graduate school can trigger stress responses in the brain, affecting decision-making, emotional regulation, and risk assessment at a time when these very circuits are still developing. Early-life adversity, including exposure to poverty, unstable housing, or family stress, can alter brain development and magnify the challenges of managing debt during the extended adolescent phase. The combination of prolonged brain maturation, massive student debt, and class-based stressors can increase anxiety, depression, and burnout, especially for first-generation and working-class students who may lack generational financial knowledge.

Graduate education intensifies these pressures. Graduate students often juggle heavy workloads, research obligations, and living costs while navigating large financial obligations at a developmental stage where executive functions are still stabilizing. High debt and extended schooling push milestones such as homeownership, family formation, and career stability into the early-to-mid 30s, overlapping with the final phase of brain maturation. For working-class students, who often have fewer safety nets, financial missteps or delayed income can be more consequential and stressful, amplifying the inequities embedded in higher education financing.

Addressing student loan burdens requires policies that recognize both neurodevelopmental science and socioeconomic realities. Repayment programs that delay full payments until the late 20s or early 30s would reduce stress during a critical brain development window. Income-contingent or progressive repayment plans can scale obligations with early-career earnings, particularly for graduate students carrying high debt burdens. Financial literacy and counseling programs must also integrate trauma-informed support, teaching budgeting and debt management while recognizing the emotional impacts of financial stress. Mental health resources should be accessible for students navigating the combined pressures of debt, class-based disadvantage, and developmental transitions. Systemic reform in higher education financing, including expanded grants, debt-free programs, fellowships, and living stipends, would reduce structural disadvantages for working-class students and support more equitable access to higher education.

Prolonged adolescence reframes the student debt crisis, particularly for graduate students and working-class borrowers. Our brains continue to mature into the early 30s, yet financial systems demand fully developed decision-making skills much earlier. For students from lower-income families, this gap is widened by trauma, structural inequality, and fewer safety nets. To support healthy, resilient, and economically secure generations, policymakers must recognize that growing up biologically and psychologically takes longer than society allows, and that debt obligations should not compound trauma or class disadvantage. Aligning financial policy with developmental science and social equity is not just fair — it is essential.
Sources


University of Cambridge. “Five Lifespan Phases of Brain Development Revealed by MRI Study.” Nature Communications, 2025. https://www.cam.ac.uk/stories/five-ages-human-brain


MSN / Independent. “Adolescence Lasts into Your 30s, Major New Study Finds.” 2025. https://www.msn.com/en-us/health/other/adolescence-lasts-into-your-30s-major-new-study-on-brain-finds/ar-AA1R9uhF


Arslan, S., et al. “Modular Segregation of Structural Brain Networks Supports Executive Function in Youth.” NeuroImage, 2016. https://arxiv.org/abs/1608.03619


Bethlehem, R.A.I., et al. “Preferential Detachment During Human Brain Development: Age- and Sex-Specific Structural Connectivity in DTI Data.” 2014. https://arxiv.org/abs/1404.0240


Aljazeera. “Does Adolescence Last Until 32? Scientists Unlock Brain’s Five Eras.” 2025. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/11/26/does-adolescence-last-until-32-scientists-unlock-brains-five-eras


U.S. Federal Reserve. “Report on the Economic Well-Being of U.S. Households: 2025.” https://www.federalreserve.gov/publications/2025-economic-well-being-of-us-households.html

Education Dept. Accused of Blocking Student Loan Forgiveness: A Systemic Failure

The American Federation of Teachers (AFT) has filed an amended complaint against the U.S. Department of Education and Secretary Linda McMahon, seeking class action status on behalf of millions of borrowers. The lawsuit alleges that the Department is unlawfully delaying or denying student loan forgiveness under income-driven repayment (IDR) and Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF).

On paper, this is a fight about administrative backlogs and program freezes. In reality, it exposes how the U.S. higher education system continues to operate as a debt trap, where promises of relief are routinely broken, and working families are forced to subsidize a predatory credential economy.

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Debt as a Business Model

The Department of Education froze IDR processing for months, building a backlog that once stood at more than two million borrowers. Even after “restarting” the system, more than a million remain stuck. PSLF’s “Buyback” program alone is stalled with 74,000 unresolved cases.

These are not small bureaucratic hiccups—they are structural features of a system designed to delay cancellation for as long as possible. Borrowers who have made 20, 25, or even 30 years of payments are told to keep paying while they wait for forgiveness that may never come. Refunds are promised but often months away. Meanwhile, loan servicers continue to collect billions in revenue from a population already ground down by decades of repayment.

This isn’t simply mismanagement. It’s debt peonage, engineered by policymakers who present repayment as a civic duty while ensuring that the cycle of indebtedness continues.

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The Human Cost

The lawsuit documents borrowers choosing between student loan payments and medical care, postponing life decisions like marriage or homeownership, and even contemplating bankruptcy. Beyond the financial harm, there is profound psychological damage—stress, sleeplessness, and a deepening sense of betrayal by a government that promised relief in exchange for decades of faithful repayment.

The looming “tax bomb” magnifies the crisis. Unless forgiveness is processed before January 1, 2026, discharged balances under IDR will once again be taxable income. That means borrowers who finally achieve cancellation could be hit with crushing IRS bills. Congress has already acted to expand eligibility under the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act,” but the Department continues to deny applications based on rules that no longer exist.

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Historical Parallels: A Long Tradition of Debt Betrayal

The student debt crisis is only the latest in a series of American debt struggles where relief was promised but strategically withheld:

• Farm Debt in the 1980s: Family farmers were told federal programs would help restructure loans. Instead, banks and agencies delayed, forcing foreclosures that devastated rural America.

• The GI Bill’s Unequal Promise: While the GI Bill created new opportunities, Black veterans were systematically denied benefits through local gatekeeping. Access existed in theory but was obstructed in practice.

• The Mortgage Crisis of 2008: Homeowners seeking modifications found banks losing paperwork, delaying applications, and profiting from continued payments—an eerie echo of today’s student loan servicing delays.

Each moment reflects the same pattern: debt relief as rhetoric, obstruction as reality.

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A System Rigged to Fail Workers

The AFT’s legal filing is narrowly focused on the Administrative Procedure Act, accusing the Department of unlawfully withholding benefits and acting arbitrarily. But the larger structural truth is clear: the U.S. economy relies on debt as a mode of governance.

Student debt now exceeds $1.6 trillion. Universities raise tuition, Wall Street profits from securitized loans, and loan servicers pocket fees from keeping borrowers in repayment limbo. Meanwhile, adjunct professors earn poverty wages, and graduates face underemployment that makes repayment impossible. Higher education is no longer a ladder to the middle class—it is a system of extraction.

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Looking Ahead: 2027 and Beyond

Even if courts intervene before the 2026 tax deadline, borrowers face another looming threat: the 2027 austerity cuts, including deep reductions in Medicaid.

For working families, this collision will be devastating. Many borrowers already choose between student loan payments and medical care. When Medicaid cuts hit, tens of millions will lose access to basic health coverage. The financial vise will tighten: loan payments on one side, healthcare costs on the other. The most vulnerable—low-income borrowers, caregivers, the disabled—will be left with no safety net.

In this light, the Department’s refusal to process loan forgiveness is not just bureaucratic delay. It is part of a broader austerity regime that disciplines workers through debt, strips away public benefits, and reinforces a permanent underclass of the indebted.

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What’s at Stake

The AFT is asking the courts to compel the Department to process long-overdue discharges. Hearings are expected this fall, with a ruling possible before year’s end. But even if the courts side with borrowers, the deeper crisis remains: a political economy that treats debt not as a temporary burden but as a permanent condition of American life.

For borrowers, this case is about more than loan forgiveness. It is about whether the U.S. will continue its long tradition of promising relief while delivering betrayal—or whether working families will finally break the cycle of debt dependency before the coming wave of austerity in 2027 makes it even harder to escape.

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Sources

• American Federation of Teachers, Amended Complaint Against Department of Education (2025)

• U.S. Department of Education, IDR and PSLF Program Guidance

• The College Investor, “Education Dept. Accused of Blocking Student Loan Forgiveness” (2025)

• Michael Hudson, Killing the Host (2015)

• Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man (2012)

• Elizabeth Warren, The Two-Income Trap (2003)

• Bruce J. Schulman, The Seventies (2001)

Defunded and Targeted: The 2025 Crisis Facing Minority-Serving Institutions

In a move that has rattled institutions, students, and advocates, the U.S. Department of Education under the Trump administration has announced it will eliminate approximately $350 million in discretionary grant funding for dozens of minority-serving institutions (MSIs) nationwide. The cuts affect seven major grant programs that support Hispanic-Serving Institutions, Predominantly Black Institutions, Alaska Native and Native Hawaiian-Serving Institutions, and Asian American, Native American, and Pacific Islander-Serving Institutions.

The administration’s stated rationale is that these programs violate constitutional equal protection principles by limiting eligibility based on race and ethnicity. A Solicitor General determination in July argued that some of these programs run afoul of the Fifth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause. As a result, the Department of Education says it must terminate these discretionary funds and “reprogram” them into initiatives without race or ethnicity as eligibility criteria.

These grants have been essential for many MSIs: they have financed academic support services, facility improvements, staffing, mentoring and advising programs, and Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics pathways aimed at underrepresented students. They have also helped institutions meet accreditation requirements and federal compliance demands. In the California State University system, for instance, 21 of its 22 campuses qualify as Hispanic-Serving Institutions. CSU Chancellor Mildred García has warned that the loss of funding will cause “immediate impact and irreparable harm” across the system, with many of those campuses having Hispanic students constituting nearly half of their enrollment.

Legally, the Department of Justice has declined to defend several of these MSI programs in litigation filed by Tennessee and Students for Fair Admissions. The core legal claim is that race- or ethnicity-based eligibility constitutes an unconstitutional preference not sufficiently justified under strict scrutiny. The administration has portrayed its actions not only as legal necessities but as aligning with broader priorities that avoid what it sees as constitutionally weak race-based criteria.

The consequences are likely to be broad. Without this discretionary funding, many MSIs will struggle to maintain programs focused on student persistence, remedial education, and equity‐oriented innovation. Services and supports for students who already face systemic barriers risk being cut. For students, this could translate into higher dropout rates, longer time to degree, and fewer resources. More broadly, institutions serve as engines of social mobility; removing a key source of institutional support may disproportionately harm communities of color and rural or underserved areas.

These changes arrive amid growing concerns about campus safety and the psychological toll inflicted by fear and disruption. In recent days several Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) have been forced into lockdown or canceled classes following hoax threat calls—“swatting” incidents—that mimic real violence but are ultimately false. Schools including Virginia State University, Hampton University, Alabama State University, Bethune-Cookman University, Spelman College, Morehouse, Clark Atlanta, Southern University & A&M College, and others faced terroristic threat letters or hoax calls that led to shelter-in-place orders, lockdowns, and heightened security measures. Though the FBI confirms that as of now no credible threat has been identified in many cases, the disruption has been real and traumatic for students, faculty, and administrators. These events underscore how fragile promises of safety can be, especially in institutions that already contend with systemic underfunding and inequity.

Administrations of affected universities have responded with caution. Some campuses suspended operations entirely, others canceled classes for multiple days, and many restricted access and tightened identification requirements. There are also broader legal and psychological costs: the stress, fear, and interruption to learning can exacerbate existing inequities in mental health and academic performance.

Even congressionally mandated funding—approximately $132 million that cannot immediately be reprogrammed—is under review for constitutionality. If more funding is cut or reallocated, more programs that target underrepresented populations by race or ethnicity may be dismantled.

Reaction from campus leaders, student advocates, and civil rights organizations has been swift. Many insist that these MSI programs are essential for closing equity gaps and forging institutional capacity that benefits all students. They argue that the cuts and these swatting-style threats combine to send a message: that institutions serving marginalized communities are especially vulnerable, legally and physically. The administration holds that it is compelled by constitutional law to end programs it deems indefensible, and that reprogramming funds to race-neutral programs is the correct path forward.

Looking ahead, legal challenges are almost certain. Questions include: what justifications are required under constitutional scrutiny; whether socioeconomic, geographic, or first-generation status metrics can be substituted for race or ethnicity eligibility; how institutions will respond financially and operationally; and what role Congress might play in defending or restructuring funding mandates. Meanwhile, ensuring physical and psychological safety on campuses—especially HBCUs—will remain a pressing concern in a climate where hoaxes and threats have become disturbingly frequent.

The elimination of $350 million in discretionary grants to minority-serving institutions marks a major shift in federal higher education policy. For MSIs, their students, and the communities they serve, the immediate effects may be devastating. But the broader questions raised—about constitutional limits, equity, race as public policy, and the safety of marginalized communities—are likely to echo well beyond this administration.

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Sources

• Diverse: Issues in Higher Education, “Trump Administration Cuts $350 Million in Grants to Minority-Serving Colleges,” September 2025.

• AP News, “Historically Black Colleges Issue Lockdown Orders, Cancel Classes After Receiving Threats,” September 2025. apnews.com

• Washington Post, “Multiple Historically Black Colleges Launch Lockdowns After ‘Terroristic’ Threat,” September 2025. washingtonpost.com

• Axios, “’Terroristic threats’ disrupt life at HBCUs across the U.S.” axios.com

• People Magazine, “Threats Force Multiple HBCUs Across Southern U.S. to Lock Down, Cancel Classes.” people.com

• The Guardian, “Black students and colleges across US targeted with racist threats day after Charlie Kirk killing.” theguardian.com

Higher Education and Climate Change: Choppy Waters Ahead

For years, Higher Education Inquirer (HEI) has documented how the climate crisis intersects with higher education. The evidence shows universities caught between their public claims of sustainability and the realities of financial pressures, risky expansion, and—in some cases—climate denial.

Bryan Alexander’s Universities on Fire offers a framework for understanding how climate change will affect colleges and universities. He describes scenarios where institutions face not only physical damage from storms, floods, and wildfires, but also declining enrollments, strained budgets, and reputational harm if they continue business as usual.

HEI’s reporting on Stockton University illustrates this problem. Its Atlantic City campus was celebrated as a forward-looking project, but the site is highly vulnerable to sea-level rise. Projections show more than two feet of water by 2050 and as much as five feet by 2100. Despite this, the university has continued to invest in the property, a decision that raises questions about long-term planning and responsibility.

The problems are not only physical. HEI has reported on “science-based climate change denial,” where the language of research and inquiry is used to delay or undermine action. This type of denial allows institutions to appear rigorous while, in practice, legitimizing doubt and obstructing necessary changes.

Even the digital infrastructure of higher education is implicated. Data centers and cloud computing require enormous amounts of water for cooling, a fact made more urgent in drought-stricken regions. HEI has suggested that universities confront their digital footprints by auditing storage, deleting unnecessary data, and questioning whether unlimited cloud use is consistent with sustainability goals.

The federal safety net is also shrinking. FEMA cuts have reduced disaster relief funding at a time when climate-driven storms and floods are growing more severe. Colleges and universities that once relied on federal recovery dollars are now being forced to absorb more of the financial burden themselves—whether through state appropriations, private insurance, or higher tuition. In practice, this means students and working families will bear much of the cost of rebuilding.

Meanwhile, contradictions continue to pile up. Camp Mystic, a corporate retreat space that hosts gatherings for university-affiliated leaders, has become a symbol of institutional hypocrisy: universities stage climate conferences and sustainability summits while maintaining financial and cultural ties to industries and donors accelerating the crisis. These contradictions erode trust in higher education’s role as a credible leader on climate.

Climate disruption does not occur in isolation. HEI’s essay Let’s Pretend We Didn’t See It Coming...Again examined how higher education is entangled with a debt-driven economy vulnerable to collapse. With more than $1.7 trillion in student loans, heavy reliance on speculative finance, and partnerships with debt-financed ventures, universities are already positioned on fragile ground. Climate change adds another layer of instability to institutions already at risk.

Taken together, these trends describe a sector moving into uncertain waters. Rising seas threaten campuses directly. Digital networks consume scarce resources. FEMA funding is shrinking. Denial masquerades as academic debate. Debt burdens and speculative finance amplify risks. Universities that continue to expand without accounting for these realities may find themselves not only unprepared but complicit in the crisis.

HEI will continue to investigate these issues, tracking which institutions adapt responsibly and which remain locked in denial and contradiction.

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Sources and Further Reading

• Bryan Alexander, Universities on Fire (2023)

• Higher Education Inquirer: Stockton University and Climate Change

• Higher Education Inquirer: Science-Based Climate Change Denial

• Higher Education Inquirer: When Climate Change Dries Out the Cloud

• Higher Education Inquirer: Let’s Pretend We Didn’t See It Coming...Again

• Higher Education Inquirer: Climate Change Archive

• Wendy Lynne Lee, On the Kleptocene and Commodification of Life (HEI, 2024)