Student Stories

I emerged from a modest background, raised in a low-income Italian family of five where the prospect of attending college was merely a distant dream. Being the only boy between two sisters, I felt the weight of my family's expectations. They impressed upon me the importance of leading the family name forward and creating a family of my own. However, deep inside, my desire was not only to carry the family name but also to break free from the financial struggles that had characterized my family's history. The only thing is that no one seemed to be able to guide me on how to do all that. Despite the financial hurdles, my artistic talents, particularly in art and sculpting, gleamed brightly during high school. Throughout my educational journey, the dominant notion I was told over and over by my teachers was that to secure a prosperous life and career, one must pursue higher education. However, my financial constraints made this path seem like an unattainable fantasy—something reserved for the privileged few.

So, I delved into the workforce instead of college, navigating through various jobs to make ends meet throughout my early twenties. The elusive concept of stability seemed like a cinematic mirage, reserved for those born into riches, as they effortlessly sent their children off to college. My reality was a stark contrast, marked by the struggle to carve a niche for myself in the world.

Faced with the discouragement of dead-end jobs and employers emphasizing the importance of a college degree, I grappled with a sense of defeat. Despite the setbacks, I clung to the hope that a guiding force would emerge, capable of transforming me into a more appealing prospect for potential employers.

To understand how a person could become a designer of some sort, I sent blind emails to businesses I found online. None replied, but then one did, and the person seemed flattered about my interest in getting a job like his. He suggested I go to an art school and then named the Academy of Art University.

I visited the Academy of Art website and read about all their career programs, students' lives, and success stories. I even found that Academy of Art was partnered with some of the world's best companies, like Apple and Pixar; they called them the who's who companies.

I decided to phone the school, and I got put in touch with an advisor. I shared that I came from a family without a college background and facing financial constraints.

He said not to worry and told me to swing by the school if I could so we could meet. That was not an easy task since I lived in the rain-soaked landscapes of the Pacific Northwest. However, what I thought was a serendipitous turn of events led me to San Francisco. My sister and her then-husband got an apartment in the city and said I could crash on their couch if I wanted to visit. Later, I put together enough for a flight and visited.

While wandering through the city, the Academy of Art University's prominent presence caught my eye. I mean, there was an Academy of Art University building everywhere you looked. Their solid presence made a point of their power, demanding the attention of anyone, artists or not.

So, I walked to their advisor offices and met with the same advisor I spoke to over the phone. His southern voice seemed smooth and easygoing, which made me feel welcomed, and he said not to worry; many students were in the same boat as me, and luckily, the Academy of Art University could get student loans to pay for the school. I was concerned about the idea of taking loans, but he made it seem easy and explained that many students had done the same; he also mentioned that because the government loans wouldn't be enough to cover everything, he'd help me get private loans, a popular choice for students that couldn't afford to pay the tuition. This was the first time I had taken out a loan besides a car loan for a used car, which I paid off, but this was new territory for me that seemed quite complicated, and yet he made it appear effortless. So before I left his office, he had me signed up. I remember feeling worried but also excited. I knew from that point on that I must do well in college because everything is riding on me paying back my loans.

However, the prospect of student loans became more manageable as I drew comfort from the showcased student successes on the Academy of Art University website, the insights gained from the advisor, and the knowledge of the institution's distinctive partnerships with the very companies I aspired to work for.

I became fully immersed in my academic pursuits and excelled in various classes. A notable instance was my outstanding performance in the creative writing course, where I earned a solid "A" grade. The teacher was so impressed that they even mentioned I would make an excellent writing assistant.

I gave my utmost effort in my classes, and before I knew it, I was approaching the end of my first semester, preparing to move on to the next. However, I observed immediately that there was pressure from Academy of Art advisors and staff members to enroll in the next semester. I mean, I wasn't about to give up, and was doing well in classes so I didn't get all the pressure until, learned that the upcoming semester's tuition would increase, and I faced a deadline to enroll and secure the lower tuition costs. I got numerous emails and calls urging me to enroll which added to the pressure.

Later, I discovered a detail the advisor hadn't mentioned—the consistent semester-to-semester increase in classes. They were already expensive, so much so that I had to take out government and private loans, but I noticed that I had to get more and more loans to cover the tuition cost every semester. At one point, with the constant increases, I decided to look into transferring to another cheaper college like San Francisco's Community College, but I found that the credits wouldn't transfer. So it became clear: I go all the way or be left with nothing but debt.

This went on for a few years, and then something terrible happened. During a graveyard shift at work, I experienced excruciating pain in my abdomen. It was sharp and felt like no other pain I'd ever experienced. I knew something was wrong and told my manager in a frantic voice while I ran to the bathroom that I had to be right back. It was like I had eaten something, got food poisoning, and needed to use the bathroom immediately. To my horror, all that was in the toilet was blood and lots of it.

Seeking prompt medical attention, I visited a doctor, and following extensive tests and examinations, they delivered a life-altering diagnosis—Crohn's disease.

From that point on, my life took a different turn. I didn't know what to expect, but I learned quickly that I couldn't be in public as I used to be. I faced symptoms like uncontrollable bowel movements and overwhelming dizziness due to anemia. Additionally, random unexplained occurrences started happening, such as severe knee pain that hindered my ability to walk for months and rashes that felt as if a thousand bees had stung me all at once.

Learning to work with my disease, and going to full-time school became hard to deal with. So I contacted advisors and said I needed to take a semester off to focus on my health. To my surprise, despite communicating that I needed to take time off due to dealing with disability. I started to receive many calls and emails. At one point, the calls became so many that it seemed like the Academy of Art had sold my name off to another company that knew nothing about me, and all they did was call me. I'd get tons of calls weekly from people who said they wanted me to enroll. I spoke to someone new each time, and the calls kept coming. I remember feeling so weak at one point that I nearly cried, bursting out with the little energy I had in tears of anger to STOP CALLING ME at one person.

After a rough time off from school, I faced the reality that I had to keep going, and by that time, the classes became hundreds of dollars more per class to attend. I mixed some of my onsite classes with online courses which kind of helped with my health hurdles. However, I found the online classes, in particular, were poorly crafted with things that anyone could Google search. There didn't seem to be anything unique about their education, except that I'd be getting a degree with a school that had connections. Well, that was what mattered to me. After all, I was in it to get a great job and career and that was the goal. I wanted to get a good job so that I could not only pay my loans but also afford a life of comfort for all the hard work I put in.

Near the end of my bachelor of fine arts program, we were presenting our final projects, and little did I know that the directors of two departments were scouting student projects. My instructor told me to approach him and introduced me to the directors of two departments. These were individuals who were famous in their fields. They had accomplished significant products in the world that we all grew up with.

The directors were enamored with my project to such an extent that, among hundreds of students, I and two others were chosen to showcase our work in a special New York exhibition, proudly representing our school.

Later, I discovered that three master's students would join our trio. The task at hand was clear: the six of us were to collaborate on a compelling pitch for the New York exhibit. If chosen, the school would not only fly us there but also provide tens of thousands of dollars to bring our exhibit to life.

Amidst the summer break, our collaborative efforts took shape as the six of us worked onsite to bring our ideas to life. During one particular night, I was singled out from the group by one of the directors and summoned into her grand office with a breathtaking view. As I took a seat, she inquired about my aspirations for the post-bachelor's program. I shared my plans.

In a surprising turn, she interrupted, acknowledging my ability in my craft but said she envisioned a leadership role for me. She went on to talk about the importance of expanding my options, then she strongly recommended that I seriously consider pursuing a master's degree, emphasizing the potential it held for my future. I confessed to her that, in fact, I had concerns about the challenges many of my graduated friends were facing in securing jobs, and she went on to say that's why she wants me to pursue a master's degree.

I remember walking out of her office feeling overwhelmed and wondered if she was right. Unfortunately, our team of six didn't gain the interest of the New York exhibit.

After all that, I talked to friends and nearly all of them couldn't seem to get work, so before I finished my final semester. I spoke with the school advisors about what the director said, and they too highly encouraged me to get my master's degree and emphasized that many of their master of arts instructors were individuals who have famous careers. So, putting faith in their words and expert teachers, I enrolled in the master's program, but I did not take private loans because I found the interest rates ballooned beyond belief.

Driven by a newfound determination, I intensified my efforts, pushing myself harder than ever. Faced with the steep cost of living in San Francisco, I relocated back to the Pacific Northwest. Fortunately, my uncle had a small room, offering a more affordable living arrangement. Opting for online classes proved to be not only cost-effective but also conducive to managing my worsening health condition.

However, I found myself facing an unexpected challenge. The private lending company Navient, formerly Sallie Mae, was demanding a substantial amount of money from me. In discussions with Navient representatives over the phone, I explained that I was encouraged to enroll in the master's program, and I believed the repayment would commence after I started school. Additionally, I mentioned my understanding of having a six-month grace period to secure employment.

They went on to inform me that I had already used up my grace period, a fact I was unaware of but occurred when I took time off due to my illness. Subsequently, they insisted I needed to start repaying them immediately or opt for forbearance, essentially postponing payments. Overwhelmed by the situation, I reluctantly agreed and paid a couple of hundred dollars for the forbearance. To my dismay, I later discovered that the forbearance would only be a temporary solution, requiring additional payments to extend it. Moreover, it didn't halt the accumulation of interest, which eventually ballooned to three times the size of the original loan. Then, in a moment of hope, I read online that government and private loan companies were obligated to offer an income-based payment plan, potentially as low as zero dollars per month until I secured employment, without the need for forbearance. However, when I reached out to Navient, every representative I spoke to acknowledged the existence of such a plan but claimed they couldn't provide that option for me. Despite numerous attempts, no one could explain the reason behind this limitation; all they could say was that they couldn't offer it.

Throughout the progression of my graduate degree program, I persevered despite the challenges posed by my unpredictable health and heavy pressures from Navient. As I neared the program's conclusion, I showcased work comparable to that of seasoned professionals already established in their respective fields.

In fact, at nearly a 4.0 GPA, my instructor noticed my standout performance and expressed a desire to submit my work to the Academy of Art annual art show. Being an online student, the submission process appeared unfamiliar to the school organizers, highlighting the uncommon nature of online students in the show.

I found out that participation in the exclusive art show was reserved for the school's top students. For those selected, I'd have an opportunity to showcase my work to companies. At least that's what I thought. I found out that the companies would walk around and pick out student art projects that they liked and if you were one of the lucky ones, you could meet them and give them your resume.

Also, before the event, an organizer asked if there was a specific company I'd like to meet, and I named the company. However, it was clear, I could not just walk up and talk to them. They had their own wing of the facility with their own small offices completely closed off to students. Each company had a small office. Students were told to go sit at some tables, where I met a few other students, nearly all of whom were onsite. In fact, I seemed to be the only online student out of a dozen in my department, and many of the students were from international origins.

We all sat, and eventually, one student was called back. Then another, then another, and eventually all but me and another student were left at the table, and then it happened; The last student besides me got called. So, I waited for an hour alone. I started to get concerned that I may not be called back so, I got up and tried to find an Academy of Art staff member. I found someone and explained to them I hadn't met any companies. By that time, it was getting late, and an Academy staff member said just get in line to meet the companies.

I found out that specific students were selected to meet companies, and once they were done meeting, they were put in small lines to meet other companies. But by the time I got in a line, an Academy staff member said, sorry, all the companies are going to leave soon. I burst out to the staff member and said, but I haven't even met one! So she put me in first place to meet a company local to the Pacific Northwest.

I came very prepared and spent a couple of hundred dollars on beautifully made printed copies of my artwork, professional business cards, and a resume, all in nice top-quality folders. I spent weeks preparing for this day and really years to come to the point that I could finally try to get work.

Filled with nerves but determination, I walked in and introduced myself. However, I quickly sensed the woman's annoyance with my presence. Undeterred by her visible disapproval, I presented beautifully art-directed copies of my work that had been endorsed by my instructors as outstanding thesis work. Two seconds later, she looked at me with a repulsed expression and remarked, "Is that all you have?"

A coldness consumed my body as I defended my work, expressing that it represented my thesis and encapsulated five years of accumulated effort. In response, she curtly said, "ok, thanks." Feeling awkward, I thanked her for her time and began to leave her office. However, before departing, I inquired if she'd like to keep a copy of my resume and artwork, suggesting she could call me if they were interested in hiring me. In response, she looked at me with a dead-cold and condescending stare, stating, "If you leave it here, it will just end up in the trash." Despite the urge to scream, I left the office in silence.

After that event, most companies had left, leaving only one. I informed the Academy of Art staff member that I had only met one person, and she suggested going into an office where they would see me alongside another student as a group. In the room, there were actually a few students, and the interviewer appeared more friendly. We didn't have a chance to introduce ourselves or discuss our focuses; instead, she requested our resumes, and then that was it.

Later, I discovered that the company I had been eager to meet faced airplane issues, preventing them from leaving the tarmac in Los Angeles and attending the event.

Returning to my expensive but crappy hotel room, frustration overwhelmed me, and I felt the urge to scream. I sat in silence for a while and, after that, knew things were not as the Academy of Art had sold me on, and they didn't have any kind of partnership or edge of any sort to getting work.

I flew home in shock after that event. The mistreatment from that company representative was beyond anything I had imagined. I truly had anticipated companies expressing interest in me, considering my impressive body of work and two formal art degrees. Moreover, I had believed that the Academy of Art, with its purported edge in industry partnerships, was a worthy investment that could open doors for me. It was, after all, the main reason I committed all my resources to it. The reality was a stark contrast to my expectations.

Little did I know that meeting companies like that would be the last opportunity I'd have. After completing my degree, I applied to hundreds of jobs, with only a handful willing to engage in a conversation. In my field, gaining access to large organizations isn't as simple as walking in; it requires permission and approval to talk to internal recruiters. Since graduating in 2018, the past six years have been a relentless cycle of job applications, all while striving to create new and refined art pieces and surviving on meager resources.

Throughout these challenges, I maintained a resilient and hopeful spirit, holding onto the belief that I could break free from the constraints of a low-income life. My desire extended beyond personal aspirations; I aimed to demonstrate to my family that education could lead to a better life. I sought to share the beauty of art with others and make a positive impact on society.

In my pursuit of a different life, the weight of student loan debt has become a formidable challenge, leading me to question whether, despite my education, I might be in a more precarious situation than my parents, who faced struggles with limited resources and no formal education. The burden of debt, exacerbated by accumulating interest over the years, has emerged as an unforeseen obstacle on my path to financial stability. What makes it even more disheartening is that, despite my education, skills, and talent, I find myself unable to initiate a conversation to join a company. I haven't had the chance to discuss my desired income or even engage in a meaningful dialogue with a human being.

This past year, I've faced exceptional challenges that have added salt to wounds of an already traumatic life, prompting deep reflection on my existence. The sudden and tragic loss of my little sister, coupled with the difficulties of navigating life, ultimately led to the end of my nearly decade-long marriage. It seemed that my wife had grown weary of a husband without employment and burdened by a significant amount of debt, further amplifying the challenges of these difficult times.

After years of unwavering commitment to creating impactful works and pursuing job opportunities, it has become clear that the United States educational system not only let me down, but has let down generations who earnestly followed the guidance provided. The Academy of Art, in parallel, has persistently portrayed false realities to thousands of students over decades, leading to severe consequences and adversely affecting the lives of many.

It is disheartening to witness talented and hardworking students, who have invested time—a currency more valuable than money itself—struggle to receive the returns they deserve. We, as students, have paid with our time to become valuable assets to the United States, only to face a system that has failed to honor that investment. The Academy of Art's consistent presentation of false realities further compounds these issues, deepening the negative impact on the lives of countless individuals.