Fact Check Me: The Kids You’re Cutting Off
We’re not cutting waste—we’re cutting people out
They used to joke that OSAP stood for the Ontario Student Alcohol and Party Fund.
It was funny.
It still is.
But like most jokes, it hides something people don’t want to think about.
Because that money didn’t just disappear into cases of beer.
It paid for tuition.
Books.
Rent.
Food.
It kept students alive while they chased the future we told them to chase.
If you didn’t go to school — or didn’t need help to get there — it’s easy to laugh at it.
Easy to dismiss it.
Easy to call it waste.
But OSAP isn’t some free-for-all.
You don’t just sign up and get a cheque.
To qualify, you have to prove need. Real need.
And the grant portion? That’s not going to kids from comfortable homes looking for a handout.
It’s going to the ones who don’t have another option.
I grew up in a working-class family.
Auto body mechanic father.
Nurse mother.
We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor enough either.
We didn’t qualify.
Not for loans.
Definitely not for grants.
So I did what people say you’re supposed to do.
My parents helped where they could.
I saved.
I worked part-time during the school year.
And in the summers?
Seven days a week.
Sounds admirable, right?
Disciplined.
Responsible.
The kind of story people love to point to and say, “See? If you want it bad enough, you’ll make it work.”
But here’s the truth:
That story isn’t inspiring.
It’s a warning.
Because what did it actually get me?
Subpar grades.
A subpar experience.
No time.
No balance.
No room to breathe.
Just running — constantly — between class and work.
And here’s the part people miss:
I was only able to do that because I lived at home.
Because I was close enough to a school that made it possible.
Take that away?
That whole plan collapses.
So if that was the experience for someone in the middle…
What do you think it looks like for someone at the bottom?
When politicians like Doug Ford cut OSAP grants, they’re not trimming excess.
They’re removing the only version of this path that actually works.
Because the kids who rely on OSAP don’t treat it like a joke.
They don’t have the luxury to.
They plan carefully.
They choose “safe” paths.
Nursing.
Teaching.
Trades.
Not because that’s all they’re capable of —
but because that’s what feels allowed.
And when one of those kids dares to want more?
Dance.
Acting.
Fine arts.
People start asking questions.
“Is that really worth funding?”
“Should taxpayers pay for that?”
So let’s ask it properly.
Are we really saying a poor kid doesn’t deserve to create?
That opportunity should come with a price tag only some families can afford?
That dreaming is fine — as long as it’s practical?
Because that’s what this becomes.
Not a budget decision.
A gate.
You’re not just cutting funding.
You’re deciding who gets to try.
Who gets to rise.
Who gets to become something more than where they started.
And here I am…
Advocating for a system I never benefited from.
One my son could use — but won’t qualify for either.
Even though in this economy, he probably should.
OSAP shouldn’t be shrinking.
It should be expanding.
It should be there for the mechanic’s kid.
The nurse’s kid too.
For every family doing everything right
and still falling just short.
Because education in Ontario isn’t getting easier to access.
It’s getting harder.
More expensive.
More exclusive.
While other places around the world are moving in the opposite direction —
lower costs, broader access, even paying students to learn.
And we’re over here debating whether some kids deserve the chance at all.
That’s the real cut.
Not to a program.
To the idea that hard work should be enough.
Because if it isn’t…
then what exactly are we telling our kids to believe in?