
Advocates: 20% of college students are parents. Here's how we can do more to help them.
What's contributing to this national crisis is a higher education system that's no longer designed for what has become a traditional college student. Colleges used to be filled with students who attended class every day, could study with friends every night and go to parties on weekends because they had so few responsibilities.
But for about 3 million students who are also parents, the reality is much different. These student-parents are balancing coursework with working full time, picking up their children from school and studying for long hours after their families are asleep. They're putting in every ounce of effort to obtain a certificate or college degree because they believe an education will greatly improve their lives.
While 1 in 5 undergraduates are raising a child while enrolled in college, higher education remains largely structured around the needs of students without caregiving responsibilities. The outcomes speak for themselves: Just 18% of student-parents earn a degree within six years. This disparity is not a reflection of ability or ambition. It is the result of a series of obstacles — rigid class schedules, unaffordable child care, the cost of tuition and books, and the strain on mental health — that make balancing school with work, caregiving and other responsibilities nearly impossible. Without targeted support, these highly motivated learners are being set up to fail.
Addressing these challenges is especially critical because student-parents are among those who stand to benefit the most from earning a degree. Data from the Institute for Women's Policy Research reveals that for every additional level of education, poverty rates for single mothers declined by an average of 33%. Yet many colleges still lack tailored resources for student-parents, leaving them to navigate a system that wasn't built for them.
Just consider the impressively demanding schedules many of these learners manage each day. Student-parents often experience what researchers call 'time poverty' because there are quite literally not enough hours in the day. More than one-third of student-parents work full time. Research shows that, after work and child care responsibilities, students with preschool-aged children are left with just 10 hours per day in which they must cram in sleeping, eating and studying. Institutions and state higher education systems must move away from one-size-fits-all approaches and adopt policies that reflect the realities of student-parents' lives.
For example, One Million Degrees — a Chicago-based nonprofit that uses a mix of advising, mentoring, career services and financial aid to help community college students graduate — has seen just how critical flexible scheduling can be for student-parents. Nearly one-third of our participants chose evening or weekend time slots in our recent onboarding process. Many were parents of young children who could only attend intake meetings after their children were asleep. Several told us that without these options, they might not have been able to participate at all.
Greater flexibility alone isn't enough, however. Nearly one-third of student-parents live at or near the poverty line. Institutions are finding that one of the most effective ways to support these students is also deceptively straightforward: providing direct financial assistance when they need it most. Rapid, one-time financial support has proved to be a powerful tool for preventing financial setbacks from derailing a student's education. Emergency grants offer immediate relief for urgent expenses such as rent, utilities or unexpected car repairs. They prevent a short-term challenge from snowballing into a long-term crisis. A flat tire or an unexpected child care closure should not force a determined student-parent to drop out.
A growing number of states and institutions are implementing interventions to help student-parents stay on track. In California and Texas, priority class registration now gives student-parents the ability to build course schedules that fit their busy lives. City Colleges of Chicago has expanded wraparound support for student-parents across the system. At Olive-Harvey College, students now have access to a child care center, children's clothing and other child care items. The college's student support office is also experimenting with flexible service hours to better accommodate students' needs.
Hope Chicago is taking a two-generation approach to breaking through the barriers created by poverty for parent learners by providing scholarships plus critical wraparound support to recent high school graduates and one of their parents or guardians. For every $1 invested, the program generates a powerful economic return of 400% in economic and societal benefits, including increased family earnings and improved health outcomes.
Most student-parents would only pursue a degree or certification in an in-demand field — such as health care, technology, business, education and the skilled trades — that will translate directly into a well-paying career. Institutions looking to expand their student-parent population should offer programs in these fields alongside paid apprenticeships and internships that will help them gain hands-on, marketable skills.
Fulfilling the promise of higher education for student-parents yields substantial returns by enhancing their career prospects and strengthening the economic vitality and fiscal health of their families and communities. Student-parents represent a massive pool of untapped talent; they have the drive and determination to succeed. It's time for higher education to meet them where they are and provide the support they need to not only enroll but ultimately reach the finish line.
Rita Raichoudhuri is the chief programs officer for One Million Degrees. Michele Howard is the chief program officer of Hope Chicago.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Hamilton Spectator
an hour ago
- Hamilton Spectator
A camp experience for less than $5? Winkler-based ministry says it's possible
At first glance, the idea seems impossible: Send a child to camp — including food, songs, crafts, and discipleship follow-up — for less than the cost of a fast-food combo meal. And yet, that's precisely what Children's Camps International (CCI), a Winkler-based faith organization, has done for more than two decades. Now in its 23rd year, CCI has helped more than 4.3 million children in Asia and South America attend camp, many of whom have heard about the love of Jesus for the very first time. 'So far this year, we've already reached over 240,000 kids, and we're expecting to hit 340,000 by the end of the year,' says Dave Thiessen, Executive Director of CCI. 'And we're still doing it for under $5 per child, which includes a full year of follow-up.' At its core, CCI is a ministry of partnership. Instead of building new infrastructure overseas, the organization trains and equips local churches to run their own summer day camps, similar to vacation Bible school programs in North America. 'The model is intentionally low-cost and locally owned,' says Thiessen. 'We help churches run vibrant, Jesus-centred camps that include crafts, games, singing, food, and Bible teaching — all within their own neighbourhoods.' Children, typically aged 8 to 15, are invited from nearby communities to attend camp. For many, it's their first introduction to a message of love, hope, and value. 'A lot of these kids have never heard that there's a God who sees them and cares for them,' says Thiessen. 'It's life-changing.' The ripple effects of these camps are staggering. One story Thiessen shares involves a young girl in a restricted country in Asia. Her father used to pour milk over stone idols as an offering. His daughter attended a CCI camp simply because she was hungry. She came to know Jesus — and eventually, so did her father. 'Now he uses that milk to feed people in his village,' Thiessen says. 'Same cow, totally different purpose.' Another powerful story involves a man named Shiva who was seriously injured in a car accident. Alone in hospital, he was visited by a Christian couple, sparking a friendship and eventual faith conversion. When he returned home, he struggled to share his new faith with adults. Then he heard about CCI. 'He started one of our camps and now says, 'This is my church,' surrounded by hundreds of children,' Thiessen says. Back home, Thiessen says the ministry's Canadian supporters come from all walks of life — from farmers donating crops in regional 'Harvest for Kids' events, to high school students building and selling houses, to families running lemonade stands. 'Everybody's got a gift,' says Thiessen. 'If you're a farmer, farm for kingdom impact. If you run a business, use it to bless others. Everyone can play a role.' Recently, a collector car was donated to CCI and is now part of a sweepstakes fundraiser. Earlier this month, a slow pitch tournament in Winkler raised over $20,000 for the cause. Meanwhile, the agricultural community continues to show strong support, with active Harvest for Kids fields now planted in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta. 'When it's time to thresh, everyone comes out to help,' Thiessen says. Currently, over 5,000 churches are on the waiting list to join CCI's network. The potential impact is staggering. 'If we had the funding today, we could send a million kids to camp this year,' Thiessen says. 'The infrastructure is in place. The churches are ready. We just need the resources.' Even more remarkably, most of the international churches now cover about 75% of the camp costs themselves. CCI's model is designed to reduce dependency over time, ensuring local ownership and long-term sustainability. 'We don't want to parachute in and take over,' says Thiessen. 'We want to empower churches to disciple their own communities for generations. Legacy, purpose, and the long view For Thiessen, who spent years in business before joining CCI, the work is personal. 'This is the hardest thing I've ever done, but also the most fulfilling,' he says. 'It's not about building an empire — it's about transforming lives.' He says the mission is ultimately a challenge to every Canadian: 'What legacy do you want to leave behind? What have you been gifted with? Use it. Whether it's $5 or five acres, invest it in something eternal.' Learn more at . — Steven Sukkau is a Local Journalism Initiative reporter who works out of the Winnipeg Sun. The Local Journalism Initiative is funded by the Government of Canada. Have thoughts on what's going on in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, or across the world? Send us a letter to the editor at . Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .


CBS News
an hour ago
- CBS News
Chicagoans deliver Aurelio's pizza to Pope Leo XIV at Vatican
Some Chicagoans made a special delivery to the first American pope: Aurelio's pizza. Pope Leo XIV, who grew up on Chicago's South Side and south suburbs, was greeting a sea of faithful in St. Peter's Square Wednesday morning for a jubilee youth event when he saw a sign in the crowd. It said, "We have Aurelio's pizza!" The pontiff leaned over and grabbed the box, helping himself to a taste of home. The Chicagoans said they did a pizza swap in the U.S. before heading to Rome. The owner of Aurelio's said it was a blessing to see his pizza at the Vatican, and he'd love to have the pope visit.


Cosmopolitan
5 hours ago
- Cosmopolitan
Data Shows That Young Women Are Just as Lonely as Men
A few years ago, my mom and I had a blowout fight. I can't recall what sparked the argument, but what I do remember is lying on the bathroom floor and sobbing as I scanned my texts for someone to reach out to who could keep me distracted from all the sadness. In my phone were the names of dozens of girls I met during my time at college, when I was rotating through late-night clubbing, brunches, and concerts in an attempt to get closer to people I hoped would one day be bridesmaids at my wedding. But truthfully? These friendships were superficial—nothing like what I watched and coveted in the TV show Girls. I couldn't rely on them during a panic attack. And if you can't call a friend at 10 p.m. on a weekday when the snot coming out of your nose has made you unintelligible, are they even a friend? I am a successful 21-year-old who is a published journalist and works a good, degree-aligned job. I live happily in New York City. I work out, love nature, and have a great boyfriend. The only thing missing? Friends. I lack them, and although this feels almost radical to confess these days, I know for a fact I'm not alone in it. Today, lonely women like me abound, and the data backs this up. About 1 in 6 Americans say they feel lonely or isolated from those around them all or most of the time, according to the Pew Research Center. The Campaign to End Loneliness goes one step further, finding that people under 30 are the loneliest age group and that women are significantly more likely to be chronically lonely than men. I have often dreaded the end of the workday when I'd find myself faced with the prospect of an evening spent alone. However, judging by recent media coverage, you'd be forgiven for thinking that loneliness is almost exclusively experienced by young men. Whether it's through stories of perpetually online Joe Rogan–devoted incels lashing out in anger over their own inadequacies or average guys who lack the tools needed to deal with their feelings, the message around loneliness is that it's affecting men at alarming rates—and we should all be concerned, especially when social isolation leads to violence and extremism in men. 'The epidemic of loneliness is hitting men hardest,' a Los Angeles Times op-ed from last year posits. 'Is the Cure to Male Loneliness Out on the Pickleball Court?' asks the New York Times. 'Are men okay?' wonders Vox. Earlier this week, the conversation on male loneliness was reinvigorated thanks to a New York Times article on 'mankeeping.' According to the Times, this is 'the work women do to meet the social and emotional needs of the men in their lives, from supporting their partners through daily challenges and inner turmoil to encouraging them to meet up with their friends.' Not only are women alarmed that the men in our lives are friendless, but it appears we feel responsible for helping them feel less alone. In pointing to a real problem, this media coverage glosses over another issue. Women's struggles with loneliness can be just as if not more severe than men's, but female isolation is rarely the topic of think pieces or trend stories. Are women okay? Some of us aren't, but when we're not occupied with 'mankeeping,' it's up to us to mitigate our own social anxiety. 'Women take on an especially high level of pressure and urgency to feel a deep connective tissue in a friendship,' Alyssa Petersel, LMSW, CEO of the therapist-match platform MyWellbeing, tells me in an interview. 'Women tend to view loneliness as a personal failure, but men, broadly speaking, are more likely to externalize the feeling (what's wrong with other people?) or not recognize it at all.' And while, according to Petersel, men may feel like 'their cup is full' after bonding with friends over concrete activities like watching sports, for women it's all about quality versus quantity. Even with a high weekly volume of lunch dates or Pilates meetups, we don't feel truly satisfied until our standard for a friendship's depth is met. 'Female loneliness is often existential: I know a lot of people, but who really knows me?' echoes Los Angeles–based clinical psychologist Dr. Lauren Kerwin. That's not to say men can't feel a mismatch between the friendships they have and the friendships they want to have, but the experts I talked to say men are less likely to blame themselves for it. 'There's a persistent cultural script that women should be naturally good at friendship. Lonely men may be socially accepted, even expected, but lonely women often carry shame,' says Kerwin. This pervasive loneliness has deep roots in art and culture. Reclusive and brilliant writers like Emily Dickinson or Emily Brontë described their own isolation at a time when women often couldn't work outside the home, gain a university education, or own property. Instead of going out to a tavern with a friend (unheard of) or bonding with coworkers, most of us could be found taking care of (ahem, 'mankeeping'?) our husbands by tending to their meals, trousers, and mood swings. In the process, we learned how to hide behind the mask of a seemingly perfect life—the magna cum laude college honors, say, or the beautiful photos on social media—which is one reason female loneliness hasn't seemed like an epidemic. The media, our partners and families, and the broader culture rarely see cause for concern or theorize about how to enhance our lackluster social lives. And so we are left to forge ahead on our own. Despite my efforts, I have struggled to tolerate superficial initial connections that (I assume) would slowly evolve into the close-knit, know-everything-about-your-life bonds I've seen and envied on TV. I don't want to talk about the merits of a new facial salon downtown or what's worth getting at the Alo Yoga sale, and so I don't even try. Still, I'm not okay with being a recluse. New York's beauty lies in the fact that you can find everyone here, and it stings not to have people tuned to my frequency. I have found a solution to all this, however, and it's fittingly retro. Bella and I became pen pals in 2020, at the age of 17, as part of Rachel Syme's Penpalooza letter-writing program. At its peak, the exchange had 10,000 members from over 75 different countries. Some pairings lasted for only a letter or two and others, like ours, are still ongoing. While I long for in-person friendships, as of right now, this long-distance platonic confidante knows my heart better than any of my lackluster college connections. Bella is a month older than me and also a journalist. In our early letters, when she was living in Florida, I used my best stationery to tell her about college applications, nature walks, and Covid-era existential crises. She wrote to me about the lake outside her window and the independent magazine she helmed. Bella lives in Spain now. We've only met once IRL. We can't share the joys of post-work drinks, trips to bookstores, or getaways to the beach on the Q train. At first, because of the distance, I didn't want to burden her in darker moments, like that post-fight meltdown on the bathroom floor. Week after week though, I felt giddy when running to my mailbox. Emily Dickinson lived a solitary life. Letter writing was also great joy for her—maybe because it let her express things she could never say out loud. 'This is an ode to all the girls we've been together,' Bella wrote in a card after I moved in with my boyfriend, accompanied by roses. The gesture made it feel as if she were in the apartment with us. So, in the tradition of deep and thoughtful long-distance correspondences between women who feel like they were born in the wrong century, I have come to realize true friendship doesn't require proximity. While the digital realm can be hazardous for isolated young men who stumble onto the manosphere, for lonely women like me, it's still a lifeline. Meeting Bella taught me that sometimes the best platonic connections live over 3,500 miles away but will still celebrate your wins, offer clarifying pushback when you're being stupid, and meet every new version of you with open arms. So while the media may never obsess over the fate of lonely letter-writing girls like me, thanks to modern technology, old-fashioned modes of correspondence, and a hefty dose of female resilience, there's still hope for us.