Amaechi Kofoworola, a first-year Lang student shared a post on his Instagram and Twitter accounts, demanding The New School to take accountability for “sabotaging” the education of Black, indigenous, people of color (BIPOC) students at the university. The post was a collection of private messages between Kofoworola and a number of other students, anonymous and non-anonymous, sharing their experiences of communication problems, differing treatment from counselors, and their struggles within the Office of Financial Aid and the Office of Student Accounts. 

“There are students who are telling me that they cry themselves to sleep, they have liquidated their family savings, they have disabled parents or disabled guardians that they’re trying to take care of,” said Kofoworola. “Some have lost scholarships due to not doing well because of COVID and trying to take care of their families simultaneously.”

The first Instagram post calling out the university gained more than 3,100 likes and was shared widely across The New School social media sphere. But Kofoworola said he did not do this for the followers or ‘likes,’ but so he can continue the conversation about the systemic racism, inequities and institutional faults of The New School that affect low income and BIPOC students.

“I want to also say that I’m not an activist. I’m not an activist. I’m just a Black student that wants an education. And unfortunately because I am a Black student, I am a gay person, and I exist in this white, hegemonic state, I have to advocate for people. I have to stand up for people. I have to open my voice at times. Sometimes I don’t feel like opening my voice. But I know it’s the right thing to do,” said Kofoworola.

“I want to also say that I’m not an activist. I’m not an activist. I’m just a Black student that wants an education. And unfortunately because I am a Black student, I am a gay person, and I exist in this white, hegemonic state, I have to advocate for people. I have to stand up for people. I have to open my voice at times. Sometimes I don’t feel like opening my voice. But I know it’s the right thing to do,” said Kofoworola.

Kofoworola’s story is similar to that of a handful students of color at the New School, who say that the administration has not recognized the specific mental, physical and financial toll that the pandemic has weighed on them and who allege that the University’s various offices have been unsympathetic and have failed to respond to their needs.

The New School Free Press spoke to more than 10 students, who shared stories of waiting hours to talk to financial aid counselors on the phone, of counselors that failed to show up at meetings or send requested documents, and of an administration that threw up roadblocks to class registration even as the students were grappling with the fallout of losing jobs.

The outrage from students, which has been fierce online, has prompted responses from several university student groups and preceded the university’s announcement of several financial aid and registration changes on Feb. 1.  

Anger toward the Office of Financial Aid and the institution is not new. In 2016, more than two dozen students told the Free Press stories of being blocked from registering due to unpaid balances. And in 2019, more than 150 people protested against a tuition and fee hike outside of the University Center. But students say the COVID-19 pandemic has intensified the financial and employment struggles they and their families have faced in the past year. Several students told the Free Press stories of being unemployed, or of their parents having lost their income. Those students in turn struggle to pay for tuition, qualify for loans, scholarships, or other forms of financial aid.

The university, which has had only remote classes since March 2020, did not lower tuition for the 2020-2021 school year, but did overturn a decision to increase tuition by 3.84 percent for the 2020-2021 academic year after a university-wide student strike. Tuition alone for undergraduates this year can be upwards of $50,000 a year. 

BIPOC also have been disproportionately affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. In September, NPR reported that BIPOC have been infected with — and die from — the coronavirus at higher rates than whites. For families of color, that means losing family members, matriarchs, patriarchs and breadwinners, to COVID-19. 

For students battling systemic and institutional racism, not being able to afford college and being denied from private lenders is nothing new. The history of redlining in America still affects a Black parents loan eligibility and credit scores, as reported by The Washington post. Redlining was a practice in which the Federal Housing Administration refused to give loans in neighborhoods that were predominantly occupied by people of color, deeming these areas too risky for mortgage lending. This racist practice in turn created a generational and racial gap in homeownership. Houses are typically a family’s main source of wealth and so the lack of Black homeownership has led to generations of Black families not being able to tap into home-equity loans to pay for their children’s college education, thus making private loans more difficult for Black students to receive. This bars many Black students from financing an education. NBC News reported in August that a higher percentage of Black households owe student debt than white households.

‘I am basically fighting for my education’

In November, Kofoworola was notified that he had an outstanding balance of $20,000. When he contacted the Office of Financial Aid, he said that a counselor from the office told him that in order to register for the Spring semester he would need to pay off the balance in full. 

“I thought that was blasphemous,” Kofoworola said. “I was just like, ‘What? How? How do you guys expect students to randomly find $20,000 during a pandemic?’”

Kofoworola said that he and his mother went back and forth with the Office of Financial Aid, trying to find a loan that worked for their circumstances. He could not find a cosigner or apply for a private loan because he had no credit. But Kofoworola said his experience with the Financial Aid Office was riddled with counselors who were slow to respond, difficult to contact, and gave what he called “vague” answers. 

Ivani Torres, a first-year student at Lang, faced a similar situation a week before the start of classes last fall when she found an outstanding balance of $9,600 on her account. Torres said she appealed for more financial aid but was denied and was not given a reason for the denial. After this, when her parents applied for a Parent PLUS loan she said they were also denied and she could not take out a private loan due to having no credit.

“During the summer, I would check if everything looked good,” Torres said. “I had my documents and I mean, my family and I were under the impression that everything was good for my first year, everything was covered.”

Torres, the first in her family to attend college, is taking a leave of absence and working two jobs as a babysitter and assistant manager of Coldstone Creamery in order to save enough to pay the balance. She hopes to attend Lang in the fall, but said she felt so discouraged by the university’s lack of communication and the difficulty in reaching a Financial Aid counselor that she has considered transferring schools after just one semester..

Keymari Flemister, a first-year vocal performance student at The New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music, is also struggling to find a way to get the financial hold taken off her account because of a $27,000 outstanding balance from her first semester. Flemister said her federal financial aid documents took months to process, going back and forth with the Department of Education and the Office of Financial Aid. She said they would send her verification worksheet back without explicitly saying what was missing. This back and forth happened about five times until the documents were approved in December.

“I’m basically just helpless. Because I know if I’m feeling like how I’m feeling, my mom is feeling worse,” said Flemister.

Flemister and her mother spent winter break filling out the FAFSA forms. Her mother applied to a Parent PLUS loan but was denied. She said when she brought this up with a Financial Aid counselor, they told her that she would need to find a cosigner in order to get approved. But cosigners “don’t grow on trees” Flemister said. 

But cosigners “don’t grow on trees” Flemister said. 

The same counselor also told her that she would send Flemister a list of private loans. But Flemister said the email was never sent to her. 

Around that time Flemister discovered that she was registered for two classes for the Spring, despite never having registered for the courses herself and having a financial hold. When she tried to add enough courses to remain a full-time student, she said she was unable to do so and that her Student Success advisor offered no explanation to the mysterious registrations. She said her advisor told her that one option for her would be to take a leave of absence.

Kofoworola also faced a similar situation. He said he was registered for only three courses during the first two weeks of the spring semester, making him a part-time student. On February 1 he was able to add a fourth class that made him a full-time student.

Students also brought up concerns of a lack of clear and effective communication between them and the Office of Financial Aid and Student Accounts. The Office of Financial Aid deals with loans, scholarships and appeals, while the Office of Student Account handles tuition, payment and refunds.

Torres said that after unsuccessfully appealing for more financial aid, she decided to talk to a representative from the Office of Student Accounts over Zoom. But despite waiting more than 20 minutes into the meeting, Torres said the counselor never showed up. The reason for the representative’s absence was because she was out of the office, despite Torres having scheduled the meeting on Starfish, she said.

“You can contact them as many times as you want, call them, email them, they give you like a one sentence response to a million questions that is not helpful whatsoever,” Torres said,

“You can contact them as many times as you want, call them, email them, they give you like a one sentence response to a million questions that is not helpful whatsoever,” Torres said, adding that dealing with the Office of Financial Aid is the “most stressful” thing you can do.

Natalie Vaval, a senior studying Journalism + Design at Lang, told the Free Press that she waited for more than four hours on the phone with the Office of Financial Aid to speak about the pandemic grant missing from her tuition bill.

“Every single time I called regarding the grant, they would always say, ‘Oh, you need to speak to this person,’” Vaval said, adding that the person she was referred to would then point her back to where she started. “So, they were sending me through the loop.”

Vaval said when talking with a counselor or worker from the Office of Financial Aid they would sound as if they had no idea what was happening and were just as confused as she was. “It’s almost like this weird miscommunication, of the student [who] is confused, but the office is also confused,” she said. “And the office doesn’t know how to help the student because they don’t know what the university is trying to do, either.”

University-wide Reaction

When asked for comment, a New School spokesperson referred the Free Press to a January 28 email from Interim Provost Stephanie Browner, in which Browner said, “Our tuition payment, financial aid, and registration policies were created to ensure that all students are able to make progress towards their degrees. And the university is committed to making sure there is no discrimination on the basis of race, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religion, disability, age, or economic status.” 

The Provost’s January 28 email however, did not address the issues students like Kofoworola and Flemister said they are currently dealing with. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, in 2018 The New School’s average net price for full time first-year students was over $50,000 after aid. 

Browner sent another email to students on Monday February 1, informing them that the add/drop period for spring courses had been extended a week to February 8, and the amount of unpaid tuition and fees that blocks students from registering for classes had been raised from $2,000 to $5,000, in order to “help alleviate some of the immediate challenges.” 

A New School spokesperson updated the Free Press that the university anticipates filling “more than a half dozen” staff positions across the Financial Aid and Student Accounts departments and that one position in Student accounts has already been filled. “We expect to fill the others quickly,” the spokesperson said.

The student outcry on social media prompted Caroline Galderisi to create a petition to revoke student’s financial aid holds. As of Monday, the petition has been signed by more than 500 people. Galderisi, a third-year fine arts student at Parsons, said they decided to create the petition upon messaging Kofoworola over Instagram and learning that he felt “exhausted.”

“You just look at The New School, the lack of everything, the lack of opportunity and resources for BIPOC. But, they don’t have enough financial aid. And the fact that, we’re in a pandemic, and they’re doing that. I understand the school needs more money, but they’re doing it wrong. It’s so wrong,” said Galderisi. 

The outrage also prompted two groups formed for and by BIPOC students, The New School Black Student Union and MixGen, to release a joint letter to the administration on January 28 demanding The New School take accountability for how students have been treated. 

“We demand that you correct this issue, release these unfair holds on your BIPOC students and allow them to get an education,” the letter read. “We also demand for members of the USS to have a seat on the Board of Trustees, as we have noticed that there have been conflicts of interest between what the administration and shareholders want and what the student body needs.”

The Lang Social Justice Committee also sent an email to students on January 28, telling students that the Committee heard their concerns “loud and clear.” 

“We are confounded by the amount of biased experiences shared by students in recent days and over time,” the letter read. “We recognize that financing higher education on a national scale is rooted in exclusion and oppression, and want better for our institution.”

In the email the Social Justice Committee invited all Lang students to share their concerns with them, by directly emailing them so they can “better understand how many Lang students are affected so that we can specifically advocate on your behalf.” 

Although the Social Justice Committee does not directly resolve disputes, the committee said that they are advocates for students and documenting these issues is “critically important in fostering change.”

Since speaking with the Free Press Flemister said that the Office of the President reached out to her and told her that her concerns were forwarded to leadership in the Office of the Provost and she would be offered assistance in moving forward with her situation, according to documents reviewed by the Free Press.

“I feel like if the New School doesn’t get together, or they can’t figure out how to change, I’m probably going to transfer,” said Flemister.

Kofoworola continues to post on his Instagram account about his experience, the experiences of other New School students and BIPOC student experiences. He demands The New School compensate the BIPOC students who have been affected by the school’s actions and for the holds to be lifted from their accounts.

“If us Black students are not treated correctly, if BIPOC students are not treated correctly, no one is going to be treated correctly,” Kofoworola said. “Inequity is always going to be there if we’re not treated correctly.”

Nicole Abriam contributed reporting