This week I'm in our nation's capital—Washington, D.C.—attending the National Association of Financial Aid Administrators  conference.

It's unbearably hot and humid. The weather is triggering memories of the two Julys I lived here—when I'd walk the four blocks to my Capitol office in shorts and a T-shirt and change into hosiery and a suit after I arrived, drenched in sweat; when there was a brownout in my northeastern D.C. neighborhood and I sweltered through a sleepless, 100-degree night without air conditioning; when my friends and I would drive to Rehoboth Beach  in the middle of a weekend afternoon just to get some relief from the heat.

When I was much, much younger.

On Sunday afternoon I attended a seminar on the legislative and regulatory changes happening in the student loan industry. Here at the conference, it's a topic as hot as it is outside.

I've mentioned before that lately there's been a lot of media attention given to inappropriate relationships between some financial aid directors and some student loan lenders. But the operative word is some. The majority of those who work in financial aid aren't in it for money or glory. In their profession, there isn't much of either to be had. Rather, financial aid counselors, directors and administrators are doing this work for one reason: to help students and families pay for college educations. And it's complicated, stressful work.

So I'd ask this: Instead of believing all the negative stuff you see in the media about financial aid professionals, give 'em the benefit of the doubt. When you enter their offices, don't automatically be skeptical about their motives or intentions. Remember that they have knowledge to share, experience upon which to draw, and compassion beyond compare.

If they didn't, they wouldn't do what they do. And they certainly wouldn't be sweating it out here at the conference, trying to learn new information about how to help families navigate the choppy waters of financial aid. They really are good nuts, here to help. Let them.