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http://www.watoday.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/uni-students-get-a-free-ride-for-too-long-with-their-hecs-debt-20110320-1c24r.html

I read this yesterday in the Age when the comments were already closed (at 461).
It makes me sad that this drivelous bullshit was published.

I have started repaying my HECS debt. Yes, there was a little hiccup with the tax office and the payroll department at work not communicating which has left me in a bit of a sticky situation, and yes, most uni students would hopefully not start their working lives with debts the size of mine. BUT I hardly think the government needs to force people entering the workforce to live balancing on the poverty line just to get a few extra dollars.
I like the HECS scheme (or HELP or whatever). I believe in it, and I know that without it, I couldn't have gone to Uni. The threshold as it stands now is fair and should be left at $45000.

I've never been afraid of work, and I worked full time during undergrad and part time during Honours.

As for Ms V's suggestion that only priviliged people get to go to Uni - I say that if you want to go, and you work towards it, it is possible.



Otherwise, the sun still shines insistently over Perth, days creak one into the other and life goes on.

I cross my fingers and reach out to this gathering hope in the midst of new misery. My mother asked me on Tuesday what was good in my life - and for a bleak moment I struggled to answer the question. Yes, the hecs stuff is painful and needlessly so, yes, things with M are about as depressing as they can be, but these are not life tragedies. So I ladle hope from the small stuff. The happy stuff that sustains me.

An instructor yesterday at the gym:

"I once went out with a contortionist from the Philippines. She was a Manila Folder" - it buoyed me with giggles for several minutes.

This morning the polite, smiling and infinitely switched on guy in the Land Cruiser in the merging lane next to me. Consideration is a beautiful thing.

And now, in the midst of all this, comes a possibility. Maybe I won't be successful, but the fact that I've been pre-selected is already such a boon. Ten years of administration does a lot to wear down one's self esteem.

So I reach out to the gathering hope. I hold onto Paul in the mornings, full of espresso and tell myself that 30 is not too old to be alone. I feel the grass crunch underfoot when I collect the washing, and I reassure myself that there is still time for a Hills Hoist of my own.