There are a lot of true Minnesotans out there. That's my take on a student scholarship story out of Minneapolis' Patrick Henry High School this spring.
True Minnesotans, by my lights, are people who believe education made this state prosper and is crucial to keeping it that way. They also believe that education is for everyone — every race, every class, every gender, every age. (Did you know that the University of Minnesota was coed from the start — a rarity among mid-19th-century American colleges — at the insistence of regent John S. Pillsbury? But I digress …)
Earlier this year, Eva Lockhart, an English teacher in Henry's acclaimed International Baccalaureate program, shared with Star Tribune readers her dismay at the skimpy college aid available to a bright but economically disadvantaged student. She shielded his identity by calling him "Malik."
Readers, bless them, came to the rescue of Malik and similarly situated Henry students. The scholarship committee at Patrick Henry received a stunning $28,000 in donations, which was distributed this spring among 35 college-bound grads in increments of $750 to $5,000.
Lockhart reports that in addition, Malik's financial aid application to the University of Minnesota got a second look, and more aid was awarded. He'll be a freshman this fall at the Carlson School of Management. What's more, she said, one anonymous couple donated two full-ride scholarships to the university, earmarked for students in Malik's circumstances.
While that display of true Minnesota spirit played out in Minneapolis, it also infected the Legislature. A decadelong squeeze on state higher-ed funding finally eased with a $250 million boost over two years. That's enough to freeze tuition for two years at public colleges and send more help to low-income students at all colleges, public and private, through the State Grant Program. At private colleges, the State Grant increase will average about $700 per student.
Minnesotans can cheer these developments, right, Jim McCorkell? "It's all in the right direction," said the founder and CEO of College Possible. "But the scale isn't what we need. The scale of the problem we're facing as a state and a nation is truly enormous."
McCorkell is a fellow from Northfield — a place awash in devotion to higher education — who started a college admission coaching service for needy high school juniors and seniors in his spare bedroom in 1999 and called it Admission Possible. It became College Possible a few years ago, and last year served 15,000 students in four states.