In March 2025, the U.S. Department of Education released its Fiscal Year 2026 (FY26) budget proposal, a sweeping document outlining federal priorities across the entire education spectrum from early childhood through workforce development. One proposal stands out: cutting the maximum Pell Grant award by nearly $1,700, from $7,395 to $5,710. The 6.5 million students (nearly 34% of undergraduate students) relying on Pell Grants would receive less support, and over 100,000 would be excluded from the program entirely — this includes justice-impacted students. The FY26 House budget proposal goes even further, with proposed cuts to the Supplemental Educational Opportunity Grant (SEOG), which many students who receive Pell Grants rely upon for additional financial support.

For millions of low-income and first-generation college students, the Pell Grant is more than financial aid; it is a lifeline that makes higher education possible. Slashing it undermines access at a time when affordability is already a major barrier. Cutting education funding, especially for programs that promote equity and opportunity, is not only short-sighted but deeply harmful to our nation’s long-term strength and competitiveness.

The Department frames this as a return to “fiscal discipline” and a reevaluation of federal student aid. But for low-income students, especially mothers, people of color, and those impacted by the criminal justice system, this reduction could mean the difference between continuing their education or putting it on hold indefinitely.

Ramieka’s Journey from Incarceration to Graduation

Pell Grants have long served as a lifeline for individuals rebuilding their lives after incarceration. For students like Ramieka, a mother pursuing her degree while navigating reentry, these grants don’t just cover tuition; they also provide support for other essential expenses. They support books, transportation, and even the emotional fuel it takes to keep going. When the system pulls back its support, the ripple effects are immediate and personal.

And while policymakers may argue that financial cuts are necessary, we cannot ignore who is most at risk of being left behind. Here’s Ramieka’s journey in her own words:

Ramieka’s Personal Journey

This past May, I graduated from Goucher College with a bachelor’s degree in business management, a degree that I had begun working on while incarcerated with the Goucher Prison Education Partnership (GPEP) and, once released, on Goucher’s Campus in Towson, Maryland — an achievement made possible only through a careful balance of full-time work and part-time enrollment. Throughout my academic journey, I relied on a patchwork of support: Pell Grant funding, employer-based tuition assistance, subsidized and unsubsidized student loans, and the unwavering support of my community. Without my multifaceted safety net, college wouldn’t have just been difficult — it would have been out of reach.

Cutting the maximum Pell Grant award would strike at the very heart of what makes college possible for student-parents like me. Without Pell, it would have been nearly impossible to cover the everyday essentials that allowed me to stay in school. My expenses went far beyond tuition — they included fees, books, technology and internet, childcare, and after-school programs for my children. For me, Pell wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity. It afforded me the opportunity to remain enrolled while juggling motherhood, work, and the challenges of reentry. Without it, I would have had to walk away from my dream of becoming a first-generation college graduate — not because I lacked commitment or determination, but because I lacked the Pell Grant. Any policy that cuts Pell doesn’t just take away financial aid; it takes away the futures of student-parents, their children, and the communities that depend on us.

Throughout my journey, Pell Grant awards were more than just a line item in my financial aid package — it represented stability in seasons of uncertainty and served as a tangible reminder that I was worth investing in. It closed critical financial gaps and gave me the chance to persevere despite all the numerous odds stacked against me. If the award is reduced now, the financial weight would fall even heavier on student parents such as myself, especially those of us reintegrating after incarceration. It would be asking us to do the impossible with far less. I know firsthand how challenging pursuing my education would have been — not because I lacked drive or commitment, but because the demands placed on me simply did not reflect my reality.

My academic journey was fueled by the act of showing my children that education was worth the investment and the capability of overcoming life’s challenges with a fair amount of opportunity, support, and access, as long as they remain unwavering in their commitment. We need a policy that not only represents student-parents and justice-impacted students but actually sees us as future scholars, leaders, entrepreneurs, and contributors to the society from which we are traditionally set apart. We are students who carry brilliance, resilience, and potential. When given the opportunity and the right support, we rise — and we often exceed expectations. The real failure isn’t in our ability; it’s in a system that fails to see humanity and invest in our growth.

We deserve better. And while I’m proud to have crossed the finish line with a degree, the fate of countless other mothers working toward their degrees with nothing but a dream that will be ignored.

What’s at Stake?

Reducing Pell Grants ignores the real lives and barriers faced by low-income, system-impacted students — people already doing more with less every day. Education should not be a reward for the privileged; it should be a tool for transformation accessible to all. Now is not the time to pull back resources for students. The Pell Grant currently has its lowest purchasing power in history, already falling short of rising tuition and inflation.

If we are serious about equity, rehabilitation, and creating pathways to opportunity, our policies must reflect the complexity of students’ realities, not erase them. We cannot continue to uplift stories of success while simultaneously closing the doors behind us for those still trying to make it through. We need a system that not only funds education but also believes in the people pursuing it. Anything less is a betrayal of the values we claim to hold.

Photo by Allison Shelley/Complete College Photo Library