In college, the sky is the limit.
At least, that’s how I felt when I arrived on campus as a freshman, my imagination stirred by the glossy fliers passed around at orientation. The mossy brick buildings housed a wealth of opportunities. There were art studios, science laboratories and even a morgue, which I, as a squeamish humanities major, would thankfully never set foot in.
As I browsed through the course catalog for my fall term, I felt overwhelmed by the available classes. While my first term was swallowed up by general education, I promised my future self that I would squeeze more fun, frivolous classes into my schedule. After all, some courses, like lower level athletic or arts electives, require little work outside of class, intended to expose students to a new subject rather than count toward their major or GPA.
When my first bill appeared, however, the wind was punched out of my sails. I hadn’t realized that I would be charged per credit hour. As a student trying to make ends meet, I began to view any nonessential class as a luxury I just couldn’t afford.
As a result, I have still never learned Portuguese or metalsmithing. Even though I have received a well-rounded education, it has been noticeably limited to my major requirements. My peers report the same concerns: when each credit hour comes with a price tag, we feel disincentivized from exploring and venturing outside our disciplines. We are reluctant to pay for classes that might bring us joy but aren’t explicitly “useful.”
However, this pay-to-play system isn’t the only way to structure our education. Many nearby public universities, such as Washington State University and the University of Washington, charge a flat quarterly rate for full-time students taking under 18 credits, with added fees only for credits exceeding this cap. To the south, most UC schools have a flat tuition rate for all full-time students.
AJ Dullum, a junior majoring in psychology, agreed. “Being charged per credit has definitely stopped me from taking more than 16 credits a term,” they said. “I’ve talked about this with my brother at Brigham Young University, because they pay a flat rate per term, and he tends to take on more credits than average because of that.”
As the first person in their family to attend a pay-per-credit university, the revelation struck Dullum as a shock. “When I first realized UO was pay-per-credit, that was something I really worried about,” they said. “There was a term when I only had 12 credits. I was glad it didn’t cost as much, but I also felt like I wasn’t making the most of my time.”
For other students, this payment system doesn’t pose such a challenge. Veronica Derner, a sophomore who transferred to UO from UCLA, said that paying per credit actually alleviated pressure.
“Compared to paying a flat rate at UCLA, it’s actually way cheaper, but I’m coming from a school with super expensive out-of-state tuition,” Derner said. “It also makes me less worried about class scarcity, because if I don’t get into the classes I want, I will end up paying less instead of just losing out on the tuition value.”
As tuition rates skyrocket and a bachelor’s degree becomes the diploma franca of the job market, college tends to lose its sparkle. However, as an institution of higher education, UO should encourage students to study outside their comfort zones, not restrict them to rigid paths paved by financial necessity.
I believe that switching from a pay-per-credit system to flat-rate tuition is worth consideration. In the meantime, I encourage students suffering from major-induced tunnel vision to take advantage of the free opportunities on campus. Try out a new club, attend a free evening lecture or sign up for a cheap exercise class at the rec. Because let’s face it, when else will you have anthropology, art history and astronomy all within your reach?
