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![A young mother sitting at a table at the library balances a child on her lap as she takes notes on an open notebook next to two textbooks (one open, one closed).](/sites/default/files/styles/max_650x650/public/2024-09/GettyImages-1211861500.jpg?itok=eRlhIVlJ)
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As the new fall semester begins, our students are facing reactionary political policies, pivotal elections and dangerous attacks on women’s reproductive rights. These issues pose significant risks for a group that already faces formidable—yet often invisible—challenges on our campuses: single mothers.
I know these struggles firsthand. I became a single mother at age 15. No one in my immediate family had ever graduated college, and no one in my extended family had ever attended graduate school. However, three degrees later, I am now an associate professor of literacy and language. In my research, I am dedicated to seeking culturally responsive–sustaining practices for underserved populations of students. And I’m well aware that women of color make up the majority of single mothers living in poverty, and since the COVID pandemic these women are more likely to have experienced job loss. It is important to recognize, now more than ever, this student population is more vulnerable than many others.
I am fortunate enough to work at a university with a large population of single mothers who, like I did, seek a better future. To help them, I often need to tell my more traditional colleagues what they don’t know about their students. I tell them that by the time I graduated high school, I was carrying around my 2-year-old daughter on my hip. I did not do campus tours with my parents. I did not get assistance moving into the dorms. I wasn’t even allowed to live in the dorms. My campus tour consisted of riding the city bus to the local campus, flagging down the first adult I saw, and asking them, “What do I need to do to get into this place?” I held my daughter on my lap and attempted to entertain her while I filled out admission papers and tried to navigate financial aid. There were no resources for students who were parenting, no student organizations for mothers, no tutoring sessions or computer labs that were child-friendly. I remember typing my first essay in a computer lab with my daughter tucked between my legs under the desk.
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I don’t share this story with anyone for pity. I am proud of the fact that, despite being a teenage single mother, I was able to get into college and graduate. However, I know that stories like mine are few and far between. Despite being called a “parasite” and a “welfare queen” multiple times, I was able to become a fully contributing citizen who moved into the middle class, pays taxes and owns a home. However, I know I didn’t do it on my own. Nor did I “pull myself up by my bootstraps.” This rhetoric, regurgitated in vice presidential candidate JD Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy, is a dangerous narrative that oversimplifies the complex challenges faced by vulnerable individuals. It also perpetuates the false notion that success or failure is solely a matter of individual grit, disregarding the systemic barriers and disadvantages that single mothers face.
Combating these false narratives and providing tangible solutions for vulnerable populations like single mothers is imperative. I was lucky enough to have support from a mentor. My mother was a housekeeper (and later a secretary) for a woman who was a psychologist. This woman helped get me into college by mentoring me through the admissions and the financial aid processes. She also introduced me to the idea of graduate school, which I did not think was a possibility for me. Her guidance sustained me throughout my academic journey. Additionally, I was able to get government assistance, including Section 8 housing, food stamps and childcare waivers. Without these, my degree(s) would have never happened.
My experience as a professor has only reinforced my individual experience. I can see that single mothers want to be in class. If anything, they are more dedicated to their studies than many of my traditional students, and they tend to have higher GPAs. They care about their educations and work hard, all while dealing with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, including in some cases unimaginable personal traumas on top of common challenges related to food scarcity, housing crises and a lack of dependable childcare. They also experience isolation from their academic community and a lack of understanding or support from their institutions. It makes sense to me that only 8 percent of single mothers finish their associate or bachelor’s degree within six years.
According to a Pew Research report, almost half of Americans say that single mothers are bad for society. Trust me: During my time as a single mother I felt this regularly. I faced many critical voices who said that they should not have to pay for my “bad choices.” The truth is that most of us don’t choose to be a single mother. Often, it’s a result of circumstances out of our control. Domestic abuse was the key reason why I ended up parenting on my own. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports that approximately 41 percent of women have experienced abuse from an intimate partner. Given the shame and fear women experience dealing with abuse, it is safe to assume the true number may be even higher. The only choice many women like me seem to have is between abuse and poverty.
For single mothers who are able to attend college, the economic impact is substantial. In the state of Texas, where I teach, a single mother with an associate’s degree is 52 percent less likely to live below the poverty level in comparison to those with just a high school diploma, saving our state an estimated $24,497 in public assistance over their lifetime. A single mother with a bachelor’s degree is 70 percent less likely to live below the poverty level, saving Texas an estimated $41,995 in public assistance expenditures. Additionally, a single mother with a bachelor’s degree will pay on average $209,636 more in taxes than a single mother who only has a high school diploma.
The benefits of supporting these mothers in pursuing degrees go beyond their contributions to our economy. Research shows that children living in poverty are more likely to struggle with mental health, have behavioral and academic problems early in school, experience sexual abuse, and engage in drug use. All of these issues have a lasting impact on social violence, our health-care systems and our K-12 schools.
Almost one in five female undergraduate students are single parents. Innovative programming for single mothers is imperative. A New America survey found that large percentages of parenting students who had stopped out of community colleges reported that they would be more likely to return if they had more support from their institution. Factors cited by students as important for them in returning to college included free tuition and/or textbooks (72 percent), more financial aid, housing or food support from their institution (68 percent), flexible scheduling and services (65 percent), and access to drop-in childcare on campus (55 percent).
Research has identified four key areas to provide support for single mothers: resources, flexibility, career counseling and community. We can look to examples like Champlain College, which provides peer-to-peer advising; the University of Michigan, which has established a student care coordinator and provides a map of child-friendly locations on campus; and the Minnesota Office of Higher Education’s Student Parent Support Initiative, which provides grant funding for things like costs related to starting campus childcare programs, scholarships and basic needs support for pregnant and parenting students, or evaluation and data collection efforts. A small starting point for any university is simply collecting data on which students are single parents. For example, in Texas, institutions are required to gather this data and offer parenting students priority registration.
Not all of us are in administrative positions or can bring about institutional reforms. However, as faculty who teach or staff who supervise student workers, simple steps can be taken to support this vulnerable population. First, throw away assumptions about students. Creating a simple student needs assessment at the beginning of the semester can allow students to share their needs and help you be more aware of how to meet those needs. Second, seek out training. Places like the Institute for Women’s Policy Research offer free webinars. Third, include a statement of diversity and well-being in your syllabus or student employee handbook. Like a teaching philosophy, this shares with students that you are aware of equity issues and want to support them in their individual needs. Include a list of university resources and community resources for things like housing, food scarcity, childcare and domestic abuse.
I hope to continue using my lived experiences and my current privilege to bring more awareness to this vulnerable population. Our current economy and sociopolitical environment raise important questions about the support available for mothers in higher education. In the face of these challenges, it is crucial that we examine how our educational institutions are setting student mothers up for success, not failure.