I was drowning in $370,000 of student loan debt with my salary as a teacher. Then, it was all forgiven. (2024)

I got some relief when the COVID-19 pandemic brought a yearslong, interest-free payment pause. But I knew that would end at some point. I couldn't stick my head in the sand forever.

Fortunately, the US Department of Education made some changes to student loan repayment, and the day came when my debt was forgiven. I finally felt free.

How I got into this much debt

Between my undergrad studies and my combined MA/Ph.D. program, I borrowed about $238,000. This was a massive amount on its own — but not unheard of for 10 years of higher education.

Teaching wasn't always on my radar. I graduated with a BA in criminal justice and political science, but by graduation, I knew I no longer wanted to work in that field. So, I took a short detour through law school, but that wasn't for me either.

While trying to figure out my next steps, I got a job as a substitute teacher. That was when I discovered a passion for teaching.

Subbing also taught me I had no interest in managing behavior. But teaching college meant I'd be teaching adults, so I shouldn't have to worry about classroom management. Even better, it also meant pursuing my love of research and writing. But becoming a full-time professor typically required a Ph.D., so it was back to school for me.

Unfortunately, I had no idea until well after I graduated how difficult it is to land a professorship. Thanks to an oversaturated job market, only a tiny fraction of those who earn doctorates to become professors ever get to be one.

But I didn't learn this until after I'd borrowed multiple six figures to get an education for a job I'd never have. I spent most of my academic career as an adjunct lecturer, working at multiple schools to earn barely above minimum wage.

Meanwhile, I enrolled my student loans in an income-driven repayment plan. As a poorly paid adjunct, my income-based payments were lower than the interest due on my loans, which at one point amounted to as much as $2,000 a month. Thus, my loans ballooned during the decade after my graduation, accruing $132,000 in interest.

The role of luck

I didn't think I'd ever be able to climb out of that much debt, especially since it wasn't fixed debt like a mortgage or a car loan. Instead, thanks to negative amortization, which happens when you pay less than the amount of interest due, my loans continued to grow despite making payments.

Additionally, as an adjunct, I didn't qualify for Public Service Loan Forgiveness, which comes with a shorter repayment term and tax-free forgiveness. Even though adjuncts often work 60-plus hours a week, adjunct hours were reported as classroom hours and didn't include all the additional time spent on class prep and grading.

But new fixes to the student loan system eliminated these barriers for me. For one, the new income-driven SAVE plan eliminates negative amortization, which means borrowers' loans won't grow if their payments are less than the interest due.

Additionally, the Department of Education closed the loophole for adjuncts by introducing its own method for calculating teaching hours. When I heard that news, I literally sat down and cried.

Next, the temporary recount meant that the years I'd spent in economic hardship deferment would count toward my total number of required payments.

Because of all these changes, I received a letter in the spring of 2024 announcing, "Congratulations! Your loans are forgiven."

It felt like I'd won the lottery.

You shouldn't bank on the same luck

Several pieces had to fall into place for my loans to be forgiven. This included pandemic-era relief and an administration that was friendly toward student loan forgiveness.

As an English teacher and the director of the writing center at a small liberal arts college, I work with students who borrow six figures or more to get an education. I feel for them, as college has become prohibitively expensive, and student loans help keep college accessible.

Yet student loan debt can become a huge financial burden that impacts students' ability to do things like buy a home, have children, or build savings. Certainly, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would have made different choices, and I hope my students do too.