I spent the first 18 years of my life in the same charming house in the same little town in Northern California. Coming to Ithaca, New York, for college was the first time I had ever moved. Despite the fact that I was on the opposite side of the continent, I found that my love for Ithaca’s friendly atmosphere and progressive culture was strong enough to deter any homesickness.

I didn’t cry when I thought about home, or my family and friends, thousands of miles away. But I did when I signed my withdrawal papers in October — with plans to leave by the end of the semester.

I watched the secretary write down “financial” in black cursive under the space dedicated for a “reason for leaving” on my statement of withdrawal. I walked back to my dorm room across campus, trying not to cry, and instead burst into laughter as I walked into my building and saw the poster hanging in the hallway, declaring Ithaca in the top ten colleges in the category for “Great Schools at Great Prices”. Boasting the college’s price tag as “affordable” seemed out of line, particularly in light of last year’s tuition increase being the largest in the college’s history — and especially for someone who had just withdrawn because she couldn’t afford it.

It was always my dream to go away to a liberal arts college and learn how to write like the authors I admired, immerse myself in the environmentalist movement, have the chance to have my writing published and obtain a quality education.

Ithaca reinforced this ideal situation — the chance to pursue a career as a writer. But as I watched my loan papers pile up, I had to consider how that career path would make me the same kind of money back. That’s the flaw inherent in going to an expensive liberal arts school — finding the financial support in a job right after graduation that would provide for an expensive education is unlikely. So my dream of being a writer kept me from being able to get my education of choice.

I received the only scholarships available to me through the college and was granted some financial aid. Despite all this, I was still left with $24,000 in loans for one year of college. I appealed to financial aid before deciding to withdraw, and they responded promptly — they had nothing more to offer me.

My family’s income has left me in a very neglected category. Their income is just above the level that would grant me sufficient help, but too far below the level that would allow them to put both my sister and me through private institutions. I graduated high school with a 3.7 GPA and a 1990 on my SATs, was in Book club and Peace club, didn’t play sports and come from a Caucasian background. Basically, my profile looked good but not good enough to warrant any extra attention.

The fact that I actually wanted the education and not just the degree seems like it should count for something, but it doesn’t. And without my parents having “sufficient” income, receiving significant financial need or having a GPA through the roof, the cost of my college degree was quickly rising to a point where I was starting to consider whether it cost more than it was worth.

So, I had to leave. Through all this, I have realized the unfortunate truth: There is a cap on my expected income as a writer but not on how much my college degree costs. As it becomes more imperative to end up with a job that will allow for comfortable living, it seems backward that the cost to get the diploma is enough of an obstacle to prevent some of us from graduating at all. It is a broken system when an education is becoming increasingly more necessary but at the same time, decreasingly accessible. If this college’s tuition is “affordable,” I have to ask this: affordable for who?

Megan Fiske is a freshman writing major. E-mail her at mkfiske@gmail.com.