Like many other prospective college students, the summer before my senior year in high school my family and I took a tour of the colleges and universities in which I had an interest. We took the incredibly long drive from South Dakota to the East Coast to look at seven campuses, both state and Ivy League schools. Of course, the academics and the prestige of attending an Ivy League school were very enticing.

In the end, I got into all the schools except for one. The spring of my senior year, I was invited to visit two of them for a weekend, to get a better feel for campus life, meet other students, etc. (I clearly recall receiving letters from both schools, telling me what an asset I would be to the student body, how impressed they were with my academics and extra-curricular activities, how I was very unique and had a lot of potential. Well, for an 18-year-old kid from a square Midwestern state, that's wonderful praise.)

I had a tough choice, but I knew that my father in particular would be over the moon if I decided to attend an Ivy League school. I remember walking into one of the large halls off the campus green and approaching my dad, saying, "How would you feel about having a child with an Ivy League degree?" The man literally leaped up and down, clapped his hands, and gave a whoop. He was so, so very proud. And that was very, very important to me.

Why was it important for you to attend this type of school?

Honestly? Because it had cache. Because it had status. Because I wanted to be one of the very few from my graduating high school class to attend an Ivy League school.

Most importantly, though, because I had EARNED it. I had worked so, so hard for four years to get excellent grades and to participate in a myriad of extra-curricular activities. My entire focus and direction while in high school was to be an academic all-star so that an Ivy League school would be able to look at my application and think, "Wow! We cannot pass this kid up! Let him in!"

Was the cost of education an issue for you? Your parents?

The topic of money was never, ever brought into the equation in my final decision. My parents never discussed it with me, and, as an 18-year old I assumed what most children do: that Mom and Dad would provide. How was I to think differently? We lived in a beautiful house with a pool in an affluent upper-middle class suburb. Why wouldn't I be able to attend whatever school I wanted, no matter what the cost?

I will also say that I do not recall the high school counselor with whom I spoke about colleges providing me with information about financial aid. Also, when I visited the campus and attended various programs to learn more about the school, I do not remember getting a lot of information about how to pay for college.

After I did get in and my family came to visit me in the fall of 1989 for Parents' Weekend, my folks did meet with financial aid. I think it was at that point, unfortunately, too late in the game, that they realized that an Ivy League education would be very dear and they just did not have the funds to see me through four years.

Of course, at that time, all federal loans and grants had been meted out for the year, so there really was nothing left for me. And, because my parents made a decent living, they did not see me as a hardship case. My parents were turned away without any help or any solid and feasible suggestions for paying for my education. In fact, I later learned the loan officer told my parents, "If we had known your son would need such significant financial aid, we never would have admitted him."

Next up: What happened to Charlie when the money ran out.

* Names have been changed to protect the financially challenged.