<\/p>\n

The Article:<\/strong> For Poor, Leap to College Often Ends in a Hard Fall<\/a> by Jason DeParle in the New York Times.<\/p>\n

The Text:<\/strong> Angelica Gonzales marched through high school in Goth armor \u2014 black boots, chains and cargo pants \u2014 but undermined her pose of alienation with a place on the honor roll. She nicknamed herself after a metal band and vowed to become the first in her family to earn a college degree.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to work at Walmart\u201d like her mother, she wrote to a school counselor.<\/p>\n

Weekends and summers were devoted to a college-readiness program, where her best friends, Melissa O\u2019Neal and Bianca Gonzalez, shared her drive to \u201cget off the island\u201d \u2014 escape the prospect of dead-end lives in luckless Galveston. Melissa, an eighth-grade valedictorian, seethed over her mother\u2019s boyfriends and drinking, and Bianca\u2019s bubbly innocence hid the trauma of her father\u2019s death. They stuck together so much that a tutor called them the \u201ctriplets.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Low-income strivers face uphill climbs, especially at Ball High School, where a third of the girls\u2019 class failed to graduate on schedule. But by the time the triplets donned mortarboards in the class of 2008, their story seemed to validate the promise of education as the great equalizer.<\/p>\n

Angelica, a daughter of a struggling Mexican immigrant, was headed to Emory University. Bianca enrolled in community college, and Melissa left for Texas State University, President Lyndon B. Johnson\u2019s alma mater.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt felt like we were taking off, from one life to another,\u201d Melissa said. \u201cIt felt like, \u2018Here we go!\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n

Four years later, their story seems less like a tribute to upward mobility than a study of obstacles in an age of soaring economic inequality. Not one of them has a four-year degree. Only one is still studying full time, and two have crushing debts. Angelica, who left Emory owing more than $60,000, is a clerk in a Galveston furniture store.<\/p>\n

Each showed the ability to do college work, even excel at it. But the need to earn money brought one set of strains, campus alienation brought others, and ties to boyfriends not in school added complications. With little guidance from family or school officials, college became a leap that they braved without a safety net.<\/p>\n

The story of their lost footing is also the story of something larger \u2014 the growing role that education plays in preserving class divisions. Poor students have long trailed affluent peers in school performance, but from grade-school tests to college completion, the gaps are growing. With school success and earning prospects ever more entwined, the consequences carry far: education, a force meant to erode class barriers, appears to be fortifying them.<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone wants to think of education as an equalizer \u2014 the place where upward mobility gets started,\u201d said Greg J. Duncan, an economist at the University of California, Irvine. \u201cBut on virtually every measure we have, the gaps between high- and low-income kids are widening. It\u2019s very disheartening.\u201d<\/p>\n

The growing role of class in academic success has taken experts by surprise since it follows decades of equal opportunity efforts and counters racial trends, where differences have narrowed. It adds to fears over recent evidence suggesting that low-income Americans have lower chances of upward mobility than counterparts in Canada and Western Europe.<\/p>\n

Thirty years ago, there was a 31 percentage point difference between the share of prosperous and poor Americans who earned bachelor\u2019s degrees, according to Martha J. Bailey and Susan M. Dynarski of the University of Michigan. Now the gap is 45 points.<\/p>\n

While both groups improved their odds of finishing college, the affluent improved much more, widening their sizable lead.<\/p>\n

Likely reasons include soaring incomes at the top and changes in family structure, which have left fewer low-income students with the support of two-parent homes. Neighborhoods have grown more segregated by class, leaving lower-income students increasingly concentrated in lower-quality schools. And even after accounting for financial aid, the costs of attending a public university have risen 60 percent in the past two decades. Many low-income students, feeling the need to help out at home, are deterred by the thought of years of lost wages and piles of debt.<\/p>\n

In placing their hopes in education, the Galveston teenagers followed a tradition as old as the country itself. But if only the prosperous become educated \u2014 and only the educated prosper \u2014 the schoolhouse risks becoming just another place where the fortunate preserve their edge.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s becoming increasingly unlikely that a low-income student, no matter how intrinsically bright, moves up the socioeconomic ladder,\u201d said Sean Reardon, a sociologist at Stanford. \u201cWhat we\u2019re talking about is a threat to the American dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

High School<\/p>\n

No one pictured the teenagers as even friends, much less triplets. Angelica hid behind dark eyeliner, Melissa\u2019s moods turned on the drama at home, and Bianca, in the class behind, seemed even younger than she was. What they had in common was a college-prep program for low-income teenagers, Upward Bound, and trust in its counselor, Priscilla Gonzales Culver, whom everyone called \u201cMiss G.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angelica was the product of a large Mexican-American family, which she sought both to honor and surpass. Her mother, Ana Gonzales, had crossed the border illegally as a child, gained citizenship and settled the clan in Galveston, where she ruled by force of will. She once grounded Angelica for a month for coming home a minute late. With hints of both respect and fear, Angelica never called her \u201cMom\u201d \u2014 only \u201cMrs. Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n

Home was an apartment in a subdivided house, with relatives in the adjacent units. Family meals and family feuds went hand in hand. One of Angelica\u2019s uncles bore scars from his days in a street gang. Her grandmother spoke little English. With a quirky mix of distance and devotion, Angelica studied German instead of Spanish and gave the fiesta celebrating her 15th birthday a Goth theme, with fairies and dragons on the tabletop globes. \u201cKorn chick,\u201d she fancifully called herself, after the dissonant metal band.<\/p>\n

But school was all business. \u201cAcademics was where I shined,\u201d she said. Her grandmother and aunts worked at Walmart alongside Mrs. Lady, and Angelica was rankled equally by how little money they made and how little respect they got. Upward Bound asked her to rank the importance of college on a scale of 1 to 10.<\/p>\n

\u201c10,\u201d she wrote.<\/p>\n

Melissa also wanted to get off the island \u2014 and more immediately out of her house. \u201cWhen I was about 7, my mom began dating and hanging around a bunch of drunks,\u201d she wrote on the Upward Bound application. For her mother, addiction to painkillers and severe depression followed. Her grandparents offered her one refuge, and school offered another.<\/p>\n

\u201cI like to learn \u2014 I\u2019m weird,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

By eighth grade, Melissa was at the top of her class and sampling a course at a private high school. She yearned to apply there but swore the opposite to her mother and grandparents. Protecting families from their own ambition is a skill many poor students learn. \u201cI knew we didn\u2019t have the money,\u201d Melissa said. \u201cI felt like I had no right to ask.\u201d<\/p>\n

New to Upward Bound, Melissa noticed that one student always ate alone and crowded in beside her. \u201cShe forced her friendship on me,\u201d Angelica said.<\/p>\n

Bianca joined the following year with a cheerfulness that disguised any trace of family tragedy. As the eldest of four siblings, she had spent the years since her father\u2019s death as a backup mother. To Bianca, family meant everything.<\/p>\n

She arrived just in time for the trip at the heart of triplets lore \u2014 the Upward Bound visit to Chicago. While they had known they wanted more than Galveston offered, somewhere between the Sears Tower and Northwestern University they glimpsed what it might be. The trip at once consecrated a friendship and defined it around shared goals.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe wanted to do something better with our lives,\u201d Angelica said.<\/p>\n

Ball High was hard on goals. In addition to Bosco, a drug-sniffing dog profiled in the local paper, the campus had four safety officers to deter fights. A pepper spray incident in the girls\u2019 senior year sent 50 students to the school nurse. Only 2 percent of Texas high schools were ranked \u201cacademically unacceptable.\u201d Ball was among them.<\/p>\n

Melissa now marvels at what a good parent her mother has become to her younger brother after she stopped drinking and was treated for her depression. But when she returned from the high school trip to Chicago, the conflicts grew so intense that Miss G. took her in one night. \u201cI really put her through a lot,\u201d said Melissa\u2019s mother, Pam Craft. \u201cEverything she did, she did on her own \u2014 I\u2019m so proud of her.\u201d Miss G.\u2019s notes variously observed that \u201cthere are limited groceries,\u201d \u201cstudent is overwhelmed\u201d and \u201cshe\u2019s basically raising herself.\u201d<\/p>\n

While faulting her mother\u2019s choices in men, Melissa made a troubling choice of her own with her ambitionless boyfriend. Among the many ways he let her down was getting another girl pregnant. Yet as many times as they broke up, they got back together again. \u201cHe is going to bring her down,\u201d Miss G. warned.<\/p>\n

Despite the turmoil, Melissa earned \u201ccommended\u201d marks, the highest level, on half her state skills tests, edited the yearbook and published two opinion articles in the Galveston newspaper, one of them about her brother\u2019s struggle with autism. Working three jobs, she missed so much school that she nearly failed to graduate, but she still finished in the top quarter of her class. It was never clear which would prevail \u2014 her habit of courting disaster or her talent for narrow escapes.<\/p>\n

Returning from Chicago, Bianca jumped a grade, which allowed her to graduate with Melissa and Angelica.<\/p>\n

Angelica kept making A\u2019s on her way to a four-year grade-point average of 3.9. \u201cAmazingly bright and dedicated,\u201d one instructor wrote. A score of 1,240 on the math and reading portions of her SAT ranked her at the 84th percentile nationwide. When the German teacher suddenly quit, the school tapped her to finish teaching the first-year course.<\/p>\n

Outside school, Angelica\u2019s life revolved around her boyfriend, Fred Weaver, who was three years older and drove a yellow Sting Ray. Fred was devoted \u2014 too devoted, Mrs. Lady thought, and she warned Angelica not to let the relationship keep her from going to college. Fred\u2019s father owned a local furniture store, and everyone could see that Fred\u2019s dream was to run it with Angelica at his side.<\/p>\n

Senior year raced by, with Miss G. doing her best to steer frightened and distracted students though the college selection process. Despite all the campus visits, choices were made without the intense supervision that many affluent students enjoy. Bianca, anchored to the island by family and an older boyfriend, chose community college. Melissa picked Texas State in San Marcos because \u201cthe application was easiest.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angelica had thought of little beyond Northwestern and was crestfallen when she was rejected. She had sent a last-minute application to a school in Atlanta that had e-mailed her. Only after getting in did she discover that she had achieved something special.<\/p>\n

Emory cost nearly $50,000 that year, but it was one of a small tier of top schools that promised to meet the financial needs of any student good enough to be admitted. It had even started a program to relieve the neediest students of high debt burdens. \u201cNo one should have to give up their goals and dreams because financial challenges stand in the way,\u201d its Web site says.<\/p>\n

Plus an unseen campus a thousand miles away had an innate appeal. \u201cHow many times do you get the chance to completely reinvent yourself?\u201d Angelica said.<\/p>\n

Rich-Poor Gap Grows<\/p>\n

If Melissa and Angelica felt that heading off to university set them apart from other low-income students, they were right. Fewer than 30 percent of students in the bottom quarter of incomes even enroll in a four-year school. And among that group, fewer than half graduate.<\/p>\n

Income has always shaped academic success, but its importance is growing. Professor Reardon, the Stanford sociologist, examined a dozen reading and math tests dating back 25 years and found that the gap in scores of high- and low-income students has grown by 40 percent, even as the difference between blacks and whites has narrowed.<\/p>\n

While race once predicted scores more than class, the opposite now holds. By eighth grade, white students surpass blacks by an average of three grade levels, while upper-income students are four grades ahead of low-income counterparts.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe racial gaps are quite big, but the income gaps are bigger,\u201d Professor Reardon said.<\/p>\n

One explanation is simply that the rich have clearly gotten richer. A generation ago, families at the 90th percentile had five times the income of those at the 10th percentile. Now they have 10 times as much.<\/p>\n

But as shop class gave way to computer labs, schools may have also changed in ways that make parental income and education more important. SAT coaches were once rare, even for families that could afford them. Now they are part of a vast college preparation industry.<\/p>\n

Certainly as the payoff to education has grown \u2014 college graduates have greatly widened their earnings lead \u2014 affluent families have invested more in it. They have tripled the amount by which they outspend low-income families on enrichment activities like sports, music lessons and summer camps, according to Professor Duncan and Prof. Richard Murnane of Harvard.<\/p>\n

In addition, upper-income parents, especially fathers, have increased their child-rearing time, while the presence of fathers in low-income homes has declined. Miss G. said there is a reason the triplets relied so heavily on boyfriends: \u201cTheir fathers weren\u2019t there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Annette Lareau, a sociologist at the University of Pennsylvania, argues that the affluent also enjoy an advocacy edge: parents are quicker to intervene when their children need help, while low-income families often feel intimidated and defer to school officials, a problem that would trail Melissa and Angelica in their journey through college.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiddle-class students get the sense the institution will respond to them,\u201d Professor Lareau said. \u201cWorking-class and poor students don\u2019t experience that. It makes them more vulnerable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Matthew M. Chingos of the Brookings Institution has found that low-income students finish college less often than affluent peers even when they outscore them on skills tests. Only 26 percent of eighth graders with below-average incomes but above-average scores go on to earn bachelor\u2019s degrees, compared with 30 percent of students with subpar performances but more money.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese are students who have already overcome significant obstacles to score above average on this test,\u201d Mr. Chingos said. \u201cTo see how few earn college degrees is really disturbing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Triplets Start College<\/p>\n

Melissa lasted at Texas State for all of two hours. As soon as she arrived, her car battery died, prompting a tearful call to Miss. G., who arranged a jump. Her dorm mates had parents to haul boxes and hover. Melissa unpacked alone. With four days left until classes began, she panicked and drove 200 miles back home.<\/p>\n

For all the talk of getting away, her tattoo featured a local boast: she was \u201cB.O.I.\u201d \u2014 born on the island. Her grandparents ordered her back to school. \u201cI really didn\u2019t want to leave\u201d the island, she said.<\/p>\n

Midway through the semester she decided she had made a mistake by going to Texas State. She had picked the wrong time to leave home. She would move back to Galveston, join Bianca at community college and transfer to a four-year school later. But when she tried to return the financial aid to Texas State, she discovered it was too late. A long walk across the hilly campus led to an epiphany.<\/p>\n

\u201cI realized there was nothing in Galveston for me,\u201d she said. \u201cThis is where I need to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angelica had a costlier setback. For an elite school, Emory enrolls an unusually large number of low-income students \u2014 22 percent get Pell grants, compared with 11 percent at Harvard \u2014 and gives them unusually large aid packages. But Angelica had failed to complete all the financial aid forms.<\/p>\n

Slow to consider Emory, she got a late start on the complex process and was delayed by questions about her father, whom she did not even know how to reach. Though Emory sent weekly e-mails \u2014 17 of them, along with an invitation to a program for minority students \u2014 they went to a school account she had not learned to check. From the start, the wires were crossed.<\/p>\n

As classes approached, she just got in the car with Mrs. Lady and Fred and drove 14 hours to Atlanta hoping to work things out. But by then Emory had distributed all of its aid. Even with federal loans and grants, Angelica was $40,000 short. The only way to enroll was to borrow from a bank.<\/p>\n

Forty thousand dollars was an unfathomable sum. Angelica did not tell Mrs. Lady, to protect her from the worry. She needed a co-signer, and the only person she could ask was Fred. That would bind her future to her past, but she feared that if she tried to defer, she might not have a future \u2014 she might never make it back.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was like, \u2018I don\u2019t care what kind of debt it puts me in \u2014 I\u2019ve got to get this done,\u201d\u2018 she said.<\/p>\n

Fred answered her request with his. They got engaged.<\/p>\n

A few weeks later, Hurricane Ike hit Galveston, with Katrina-like consequences. About a sixth of the population never returned. Mrs. Lady lost her apartment and much of what she owned. Fred, consumed with rebuilding the store, reduced the modest sums he had promised to send Angelica.<\/p>\n

Social life was awkward. She often felt she was the only one on campus without a credit card. Her roommate moved out, with no explanation. But one element of college appealed to Angelica and Melissa alike: the classes. Other debt-ridden students might wonder why the road to middle-class life passed through anthropology exams and lectures on art history. But Melissa was happy to ponder tribal life in Papua New Guinea and Angelica stepped off the 18-hour bus ride home and let slip an appreciative word about German film.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy family said \u2018O.K., now you go to some big fancy school,\u2019 \u201d she said.<\/p>\n

With A\u2019s, B\u2019s, C\u2019s and D\u2019s, her report card looked like alphabet soup. \u201cI was ready for Galveston College \u2014 I wasn\u2019t ready for Emory,\u201d Angelica said. But she salvaged a 2.6 GPA and went home for the summer happy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought the hard part was over,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

At the end of the summer, Angelica and Melissa marked their ascent as college women with the perfect road trip. Melissa had decided to become a speech therapist. Angelica would practice child psychology. Somewhere between the rainbow in Louisiana and the blues bar in Orlando, they talked of launching a practice to help poor children. Fortune smiled all week.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were where we should be and we had the world at our feet,\u201d Melissa said.<\/p>\n

Melissa<\/p>\n

She returned to a campus that was starting to feel like home. She had a roommate she liked and a job she loved, as a clerk in a Disney store. But despite the feeling of deep change \u2014 or perhaps because of it \u2014 she got back together with her high-school boyfriend. \u201cThat was one of the stupidest things I\u2019ve ever done,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

In the middle of Melissa\u2019s sophomore year they became engaged. He moved near the campus to live with her, and Melissa charged most of their expenses on her credit cards. He was enrolling in the Job Corps program, and they agreed they would pay down the bills together after he became an electrician.<\/p>\n

Melissa hit an academic pothole \u2014 a C in a communications course, which kept her out of the competitive speech therapy program. But she decided to aim for graduate-school training, and her other grades soared, placing her on the dean\u2019s list both semesters her junior year. When her mother made a rare campus visit, Melissa hurried to show her the prominent display on the student center wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was one of the proudest moments of my life,\u201d Melissa said.<\/p>\n

Just before her senior year, Melissa planned a trip to celebrate her 21st birthday. Preparing to leave, she discovered her money was missing. Only one person had her bank code. After finishing Job Corps, her boyfriend was jobless once again and acting odd \u2014 as if he were using drugs.<\/p>\n

No one but Melissa was surprised. Although she returned the engagement ring, she could not return the $4,000 in credit card debt he had promised to help pay. With her finances and emotions in disarray, she started her senior year so depressed she hung up black curtains so she could sleep all day. She skipped class, doubled her work hours, and failed nearly every course.<\/p>\n

\u201cI started partying, and I was working all the time because I had this debt,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

If the speed of her decline stands out, so does her lack of a safety net. It is easy to imagine a more affluent family stepping in with money or other support. Miss G. sent her the names of some campus therapists but Melissa did not call. She waited for an internal bungee cord to break the fall. She came within one F of losing her financial aid, then aced last summer\u2019s classes.<\/p>\n

She is now a fifth-year senior, on track to graduate next summer, and her new boyfriend is studying to be an engineer. At home, she had a way of finding the wrong people. \u201cI haven\u2019t found any wrong people out here,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

With more than $44,000 in loans, she can expect to pay $250 a month for the next quarter century, on top of whatever she may borrow for graduate school. She hides the notices in a drawer and harbors no regrets. \u201cEducation \u2014 you can\u2019t put a price on it,\u201d she said. \u201cNo matter what happens in your life, they can\u2019t take your education away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bianca<\/p>\n

Bianca missed the Florida road trip, though no one remembers why. She liked to talk of getting away, until it came time to go.<\/p>\n

Among the perils that low-income students face is \u201cunder-matching,\u201d choosing a close or familiar school instead of the best they can attend.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe more selective the institution is, the more likely kids are to graduate,\u201d said Mr. Chingos, the Brookings researcher. \u201cThere are higher expectations, more resources and more stigma to dropping out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bianca was under-matched. She was living at home, dating her high-school boyfriend and taking classes at Galveston College. A semester on the honor roll only kept her from sensing the drift away from her plan to transfer to a four-year school.<\/p>\n

Her grandfather\u2019s cancer, and chemotherapy treatments, offered more reasons to stay. She had lived with him since her father had died. Leaving felt like betrayal. \u201cI thought it was more important to be at home than to be selfish and be at school,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

The idea that education can be \u201cselfish\u201d \u2014 a belief largely alien among the upper-middle class \u2014 is one poor students often confront, even if it remains unspoken. \u201cFamily is such a priority, especially when you\u2019re a Hispanic female,\u201d Miss G. said. \u201cYou\u2019re afraid you\u2019re going to hear, \u2018You\u2019re leaving us, you think you\u2019re better.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>\n

In her second year of community college, Bianca was admitted to a state university a hundred miles away. Miss. G. and her mother urged her to go. Her mind raced with reasons to wait.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t want to leave and have my grandfather die.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI had to help my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think I got burned out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bianca stayed in Galveston, finished her associate degree, and now works as a beach-bar cashier and a spa receptionist. She still plans to get a bachelor\u2019s degree, someday.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think I was lazy. I think I was scared,\u201d she said. In the meantime, \u201clife happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angelica<\/p>\n

After the financial aid disaster in her first year, Angelica met the next deadline and returned as a sophomore with significant support. Still, she sensed she was on shakier ground than other low-income students and never understood why. The answer is buried in the aid archives: Emory repeatedly inflated her family\u2019s income without telling her.<\/p>\n

Angelica reported that her mother made $35,000 a year and paid about half of that in rent. With her housing costs so high, Emory assumed the family had extra money and assigned Mrs. Lady an income of $51,000. But Mrs. Lady was not hiding money. She was paying inflated post-hurricane rent with the help of Federal disaster aid, a detail Angelica had inadvertently omitted.<\/p>\n

By counting money the family did not have, Emory not only increased the amount it expected Angelica to pay in addition to her financial aid. It also disqualified her from most of the school\u2019s touted program of debt relief. Under the Emory Advantage plan the school replaces loans with grants for families making less than $50,000 a year. Moving Angelica just over the threshold placed her in a less-generous tier and forced her to borrow an additional $15,000 before she could qualify. The mistake will add years to her repayment plan.<\/p>\n

She discovered what had happened only recently, after allowing a reporter to review her file with Emory officials. \u201cThere was no other income coming in,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t believe that they would do that and not say anything to us. That seems completely unfair.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emory officials said they had to rely on the information Angelica provided and that they will not make retroactive adjustments.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe method that was used in her case was very standard methodology,\u201d said J. Lynn Zimmerman, the senior vice provost who oversees financial aid. \u201cI think that what\u2019s unusual is that she really didn\u2019t advocate for herself or ask for any kind of review. If she or her mother would have provided any additional information it would have triggered a conversation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Unaware she had any basis for complaint, Angelica found a campus job she loved, repairing library books. It was solitary and artistic work, and it attracted a small sisterhood of women who appreciated her grandmother\u2019s tamales and her streak of purple hair. One day her boss, Julie Newton, overheard her excitedly talking about Hegel.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was an extremely intelligent woman and an unusual one,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Yet even as Angelica\u2019s work hours grew, so did the rigor of her coursework. Meetings with faculty advisers were optional and Angelica did not consult hers. When it came time to declare a major, she had a B-plus average in the humanities and D\u2019s in psychology. She chose psychology.<\/p>\n

By the end of her second year, she felt exhausted and had grades to show it. Her long-distance love life was exhausted, too, and she briefly broke up with Fred. She went home for the summer to work at Target and dragged herself back to a troubled junior year.<\/p>\n

She moved off campus to save money but found herself spending even more. \u201cI would sit and debate whether I could buy a head of lettuce,\u201d she said. Fred was no longer helping, and her relationship with him snapped. That he had backed a $40,000 loan only made the split harder. They had been together since she was 15.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was days of back and forth, crying,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

This was no time to tackle Psychology 200, a course on research methods required of majors. The devotion of the professor, Nancy Bliwise, had earned her a campus teaching award. But her exacting standards and brusque manner left student opinion divided.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuite possibly the greatest professor at Emory,\u201d wrote one contributor to the Web site Rate My Professor. Others found her \u201ccondescending,\u201d \u201chorribly disrespectful,\u201d and \u201cplain out mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

Midway through the semester, Angelica just stopped coming to class. Professor Bliwise called her in and found her despondent. \u201cShe was emotionless and that scared me,\u201d the professor said in an interview. Angelica said she had to work too much to keep up, but could not drop the course without losing her full-time status and her aid. So she planned to take an \u201cF.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alarmed, Professor Bliwise raised other options, then asked \u2014 empathetically, the professor thought \u2014 if Angelica had considered cheaper schools. She herself had worked her way through Cleveland State then earned a doctorate at the University of Chicago.<\/p>\n

Angelica sat stone-faced, burning. All she could hear was someone saying she was too poor for Emory. \u201cIt was pretty clear if I couldn\u2019t afford to be there, I shouldn\u2019t waste her time,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

That was the beginning of the end. Angelica failed that course and three others her junior year, as her upside-down circumstances left her cheating a $200,000 education for a $9-an-hour job. She was not one to make it easy, but Emory never found a way to intervene. \u201cIs there a way to reach out to her?\u201d Professor Bliwise asked in an e-mail to the dean\u2019s office.<\/p>\n

The dean\u2019s office left messages. Angelica acknowledged that she was slow to respond but said she got no answer when she did. The school did an electronic key card check to verify whether she was still on campus. More professors expressed concerns. \u201cPersonal issues are interfering with her ability to concentrate,\u201d one warned. Angelica contacted campus counseling but said all the appointments had been taken.<\/p>\n

Emory can hardly be cast as indifferent to low-income students. It spends $94 million a year of its own money on financial aid and graduates its poorest students nearly as often as the rest. Its failure to reach Angelica may have come up short, but that is partly a measure of the sheer distance it was trying to bridge.<\/p>\n

When Angelica finally found a way to express herself, she did so silently. Her final piece for a sculpture class was a papier-m\u00e2ch\u00e9 baby, sprouting needles like a porcupine. No one could mistake the statement of her own vulnerability.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a shocking piece,\u201d said her professor, Linda Armstrong. \u201cShe had a way of using art to tap into her deepest emotions and feelings. I don\u2019t think she understood how good she was.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angelica spent the next summer waiting for an expulsion letter that never came. Another missed deadline cost her several thousand dollars in aid in her senior year, and Emory mistakenly concluded that Mrs. Lady had made a $70,000 down payment on a house. (In describing the complicated transaction with a nonprofit group, Angelica failed to note that most of the money came from a program for first-time home buyers.) Emory officials said the mistake did not affect her aid, but the difference between the school\u2019s costs and her package of loans and grants swelled to $12,000 \u2014 a sum she could not possibly meet.<\/p>\n

She skipped more classes and worked longer hours.<\/p>\n

\u201cI felt, I\u2019m going to be on academic probation anyway, I might as well work and pay my rent until they suspend me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Finally, Emory did \u2014 forcing her to take a semester away with the option of reapplying.<\/p>\n

The tale could be cast as an elite school failing a needy student or a student unwilling to be helped, but neither explanation does justice to an issue as complicated as higher education and class.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a little of both,\u201d said Joanne Brzinski, a dean who oversees academic advising. \u201cWe reached out to her, but she didn\u2019t respond. I always fault myself when students don\u2019t do as well as we\u2019d like them to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s such a sad story,\u201d she added. \u201cShe had the ability.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ms. Newton, Angelica\u2019s former supervisor at the library, wondered if her conflict went beyond money, to a fear of the very success she sought. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t go as far as to say she was committing self-sabotage, but the thought crossed my mind,\u201d she said. \u201cFor someone so connected to family and Grandma and the tamales, I wondered if she feared that graduating would alienate her.\u201d<\/p>\n

A long bridge crosses the bay to Galveston Island. Angelica returned a year ago the way she had left, with Mrs. Lady and Fred at her side. She is $61,000 in debt, seeing Fred again, and making $8.50 an hour at his family\u2019s furniture store. No one can tell whether she is settling down or gathering strength for another escape.<\/p>\n

A dinner with Melissa and Bianca a while back offered the comfort of friends who demand no explanations. Melissa suggested they all enroll at Texas State. But Bianca does not know what to study, and Angelica said that she had gone too far to surrender all hopes of an Emory degree.<\/p>\n

\u201cI could have done some things better, and Emory could have done some things better,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I don\u2019t blame either one of us. Everyone knows life is unfair \u2014 being low-income puts you at a disadvantage. I just didn\u2019t understand the extent of the obstacles I was going to have to overcome.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Article: For Poor, Leap to College Often Ends in a Hard Fall by Jason DeParle in the New York Times. The Text: Angelica Gonzales marched through high school in Goth armor \u2014 black boots, chains and cargo pants \u2014 but undermined her pose of alienation with a place on the honor roll. She nicknamed […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":49,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[259],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n