The Broken Promise: Why Public Service Loan Forgiveness Isn’t Charity—It’s a Contract

Why Public Service Loan Forgiveness Isn’t Charity—It’s a Contract

I’m a special education teacher. I’ve spent 25 years in public and charter schools working with some of the most vulnerable students in the education system. My job is hard, essential, and almost invisible. I’ve never done this work for the money. And I’ve never expected a medal. But I did expect the government to honor its word.

The Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) program was created as a simple contract: work ten years in public service, make 120 qualifying payments on your federal student loans, and the remaining balance would be forgiven. It wasn’t a handout. It was a bargain. A trade. I give my career to the public good, and in return, the system won’t bury me in debt I can never repay.

But now, at the very edge of forgiveness, the rules are shifting. Again.

Despite years of service and 120 confirmed payments, I find myself entangled in a bureaucratic web where forgiveness isn’t denied outright—it’s just endlessly delayed, stalled, reinterpreted, or deferred. Buyback programs are offered but impossible to access. Servicers like MOHELA are unreachable. And the Department of Education sends mixed messages, offering congratulations with one hand and closed cases with the other.

Some will read this and say, "Well, you borrowed the money. Pay it back."

To those people, I say: walk a year in our shoes.

The Math Doesn’t Add Up

The average starting salary for a public school teacher in the U.S. is just over $41,000. The average overall teacher salary is around $66,000. Special education teachers often earn less despite having advanced degrees. In 25 years of service, my salary has risen slower than the cost of living, while the interest on my student loans has grown faster than my ability to pay it.

Teachers across the country often find that their salaries aren’t enough to keep pace with the interest on their student loans. Many return to graduate programs to stay certified or improve their practice, accruing more debt in the process. Forbearance becomes a strategic necessity—not to avoid responsibility, but to survive financially through unpaid summers, medical hardships, or career moves between districts or states.

When people say "pay it back," they ignore that the system was designed to be unpayable under a teacher's salary. PSLF was never about ducking a debt. It was about creating a path out for those who sacrificed higher earnings to serve.

The Trump Administration's Slow Sabotage

Today, under the Trump administration, PSLF is still technically alive—but barely. They haven’t killed it. They’ve chosen something more cynical: slow sabotage.

Forms are lost. Rules are quietly reinterpreted. Servicers are unresponsive. Buyback programs are introduced, then made inaccessible. Borrowers are left in limbo, unable to pay, unable to progress, unable to get a straight answer. I’ve made the final payments. I’ve sent the documents. And now I’m told to wait 90 business days while my case disappears into another opaque review process.

Meanwhile, the public narrative hardens against people like me. We’re cast as freeloaders, as if teachers have been living large on taxpayer dollars. In reality, I’ve subsidized this system with my labor for decades. And now the system wants to walk away from its side of the deal.

PSLF Is a Contract, Not a Giveaway

The promise of PSLF is not charity. It is not a political favor. It is a contract: a commitment made to those who chose to serve the public instead of chase profits. The government made that deal. I signed on. I upheld my end. And now I want the government to uphold theirs.

This isn’t just about me. It’s about every teacher, nurse, social worker, firefighter, and nonprofit worker who believed this country when it said, "We honor public service."

If that promise can be revoked by delay, misdirection, or administrative bad faith, then PSLF is no longer a program. It’s a trap.

And some of us are done staying quiet about it.

The “Pay It Back!” Slogan Is Simple. The Reality Isn’t.

On the surface, “you borrowed the money, pay it back” sounds like common sense—and to many working Americans who’ve paid off car loans, mortgages, or credit cards, it feels like a moral baseline. Responsibility. Fairness. No handouts. But student debt—especially for public servants—isn’t a consumer choice in the same way. Teachers don’t take out loans for luxury or speculation; they borrow just to qualify for jobs that barely cover their rent. And unlike other debt, student loans often grow faster than they can be repaid, especially under income-driven repayment plans where interest outpaces earnings. PSLF was meant to account for that gap—to honor the service, not punish the borrower. So when people who have never needed a master's degree to earn a living wage scream about fairness, they’re ignoring the system we actually live in—and the lives caught in it.

To those shouting “Pay the loans back” like it’s a moral axiom—spare us the lazy slogans. You don’t even bother to distinguish between a for-profit scammer with a master’s in cryptocurrency and a public school teacher who’s spent decades wiping noses, writing IEPs, and buying their own classroom supplies. You parrot outrage while ignoring the rigged economics of public service work. PSLF isn’t about handouts—it’s about honoring a promise to those who served while the rest of you chased profits or peddled grievance politics. Maybe stop yelling long enough to learn who your enemies actually are.