Book Review: "Class"
This article is part of NASFAA's occasional book review series, where members share their reflections on books, published within the past five years, on higher education themes of interest to financial aid professionals. The opinions offered and statements made do not imply endorsement by NASFAA or the authors' employers and do not guarantee the accuracy of information presented. Would you like to suggest a book for a future review? Email us at [email protected] with your recommendation.
Motherhood, hunger, and higher education. We may occasionally work with low-income student-parents in the financial aid office, but how much do we truly know about their lived experiences?[1]
In her latest book, Class, Stephanie Land delivers a powerful personal insight into the difficulties faced by student-parents. This memoir is a sequel to Land’s highly acclaimed first book, Maid, which became a hit series on Netflix with its look into Land’s life as a member of the working poor. The series piqued my interest in reading this sequel to more deeply understand what students like Land are up against.
Reviewed by Margaret Malaspina, director of financial aid services at Capital Community College
Class sheds light on the relentless challenges Land faced as she fought to pursue a college education while raising her daughter. The responsibilities of motherhood, work, and college were constant pressures, and her perseverance in pursuing her academic goals – despite an abusive relationship, single parenthood, and living below poverty level with little support – is inspiring.
Sometimes the hardships she faced almost seemed unreal. Beyond the financial, parenting, and work pressures she faced while in school, legal conflicts with her daughter’s father and an unexpected pregnancy in her final year compounded the stress. How could someone confront so many of life’s hurdles without giving up, even when there seemed to be no way forward?
What drove Land relentlessly onward was her conviction that the only way to care for her daughter and herself was to earn a college degree and become a writer. When faced with a challenge, she weighed how her response would affect her ability to accomplish her academic goals. If she thought about missing a class, she calculated the actual cost of that class — something I believe few students ever do. She figured out, down to the minute, not only what the class itself cost, but also what missing it would mean in terms of time, money, and effort.
Those costs could be enormous. Catching up could snowball into lost sleep, missed work, and added stress — all of which had ripple effects on her child, her job, and her studies. She had to weigh every decision carefully and make tough choices many students never have to face.
Contemplating such costs did not come naturally to Land. The title of one chapter, “Economics Is Learned, Not Taught,” describes how she lived with the constant reminder that she didn’t have enough money to cover all her needs. For example, it often seemed impossible to cover the costs of maintaining a reliable car to get to school and work, paying for her child’s daycare, and buying food for both of them while she pursued a college degree. The choice between seeking medical care and feeding herself and her child was very real.
At times she wondered if getting a higher education was just a “cruel game,” as she was forced to choose between basic needs and going without until she could finally catch a break. But her desire to have a better life for herself and her daughter kept her going.
Although we all know the outcome, this book is worth reading. As financial aid professionals, we may think we understand this story. But do we really? Some students we see benefit from traditional parent-paid financial support. Other students receive adequate grants, scholarships, and loans. But we may not see the sacrifices our neediest students endure when their resources fall short, forcing them to work, rely on public assistance, or face impossible trade-offs no one should have to consider. As Land shows, asking for even more help can be humiliating — and sometimes it still isn’t enough.
Throughout the book, what stood out to me was Land’s relentlessness. The price students like Land pay for their education is not limited to the figures on the college scorecard or line items on the FAFSA. She faced tough life choices many of her peers never faced, and felt lonely as a non-traditional student who had little in common with her classmates. Yet, she didn’t stop. Even though she barely received enough resources to get by, she didn’t give up.
Reading this book is a good reminder of what higher education can mean to some of our students and the struggles many of them face behind the scenes. One can’t help but wonder how many other Stephanie Lands are out there in similar situations, who make it to class and wave as they walk by us in the hallways but all the while are worrying about how they’ll feed their children when they get home. Many may face similar obstacles but may not have Land’s strength and determination to overcome them.
What happens to those students? Some don’t meet academic progress; others withdraw or give up.
Stephanie Land’s college years were like climbing the highest mountain, with some slipping, sliding, and hanging on by her fingertips, but using her muscles to reach the top. Reading this book is a good reminder that Ms. Land succeeded, that higher education is worth it. When Land walked across the stage — nine months pregnant with her second child and determined to show her daughter that anything is possible — she achieved even more than the diploma she carried in her hand. Although the challenges she faced seemed insurmountable, a memoir like this one can inspire students in similar circumstances to persevere while also guiding us, as higher education professionals, to recognize clues to students’ hidden struggles and find better ways to support their success.
[1] A 2024 report by the American Council on Education included the following statement: “NPSAS data from 2020 underscored student-parents’ basic needs insecurity, showing that 31 percent of student-parents lived at or below the poverty line; 30 percent received food stamp benefits; 30 percent received women, infant, and children (WIC) benefits; and 7 percent had been recently homeless in 2020.”
“Class” by Stephanie Land, Atrium/One Signal Publishers, November 2023, pp. 288.
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Margaret Malaspina holds a bachelor's degree in psychology and a master’s degree in higher education counseling. She has over 35 years of experience in financial aid, including 22 years as the director of financial aid services at Capital Community College. Following the merger of Connecticut’s community colleges, Margaret assumed a broader role as director of financial aid operations and outreach, where she now oversees financial aid services across five college campuses. She has also served Capital as acting dean of students and as an adjunct professor of psychology.
Publication Date: 6/30/2025
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