As much as people try to deny it, labels are everything. They allow us to identify what is important to us and how to align with common interest groups. Thus, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA)’s recent removal of certain degrees from the list of those classified as “professional,” such as nursing, education, and accounting, will have significant negative repercussions. Notably, the act will invalidate many female-dominated fields and create financial barriers to higher education. The ramifications of this reclassification extend to college-bound PHS students, whose chosen majors may be affected by changing loan conditions as well as a skewed perspective of a career path’s “legitimacy.”

The designation of degrees as professional determines the loan ceiling for many graduate programs. The OBBBA gives professional degrees a total limit of $200,000, while the cap is halved for degrees simply classified as graduate — $100,000. Additionally, the bill cuts the Grad PLUS student loan program, further heightening financial barriers for many individuals to access post-secondary education. 

Moreover, many of the reclassified degrees are in female-dominated fields, resulting in a disproportionate impact. For example, AuDs, the degree necessary to become an audiologist or hearing doctor, are among those being reclassified. It is a rigorous four year doctoral degree in addition to a bachelor’s degree. At the end of the program, students gain clinical experience through an externship, which is a short, observational program where a student shadows an experienced individual in order to learn more about a field or industry. Women comprised 82 percent of the audiology field in 2019, and this level of educational experience is the same, if not more, than “professional” fields such as dentistry or law. Restricting financial aid for vital degrees, especially considering that audiology and nursing are facing worsening labor shortages, creates additional barriers for individuals to enter each field.

On a more narrow scale, there is no doubt that this will affect what majors high school students will choose, including students at PHS. Those who once considered pursuing graduate futures in nursing or accounting may have to reconsider due to a hindered ability to cover education costs. Students who are the first in their family to go to college will be especially hard hit—according to Ohio State University in 2022, 72% of first-generation low income students rely on federal student loans to fund higher education. Individuals will be forced to turn to private loans, which require strong credit history and are more difficult to obtain. Instead of attempting to encourage social mobility, the government is only exacerbating an existing socioeconomic education gap.

The OBBBA is not a judicious reform, but rather a careless gamble of progress. As part of the future workforce, we must advocate for the legitimacy of vital career fields. Although the OBBBA is an intimidating piece of federal legislation, there are still ways we can express our opinions about the reclassification. Contacting local government officials and working to raise community awareness about civic engagement always helps. Students can also contact universities about their financial policies to see if they will offer new school-specific loan options considering the recent degree reclassification. No matter the illusions created by a law, our dreams remain legitimate, and we must continue to fight for the everlasting principles of curiosity, integrity, and the enduring pursuit of knowledge.

The domino effects of degree reclassification

 On Monday December 1, PHS hosted Maud Dahme, a Holocaust survivor from the Netherlands, who shared her story of being a hidden child during World War II. The PHS and larger Princeton community was invited to hear firsthand accounts of perseverance and hope from a woman who experienced one of history's darkest chapters. 

   Dahme was born in Amersfoort, in the Netherlands in 1936. Her father was a chef, who, along with her grandfather, operated a restaurant in a local train station. In 1939, Hitler invaded Poland, beginning World War II. 

   “The Netherlands.. was expected to remain neutral in [World War II]. That's why so many people came to the Netherlands, because everyone felt they would be safe.” said Dahme. “But that didn't happen: we woke up one morning in the middle of the night, [at] two in the morning in May of 1940 people… looked outside and they saw German airplanes coming in and soldiers parachuting out. Hitler [had] invaded.”

Dahme’s local synagogue soon received a letter that all Jews in Amersfoort were to take a train towards Eastern Europe, where unbeknownst to them many would be eventually murdered in concentration camps. Dahme’s parents decided to put their daughters in the care of their Christian friends. Through the resistance, these friends were able to find a farm in the countryside to hide Dahme and her sister. 

   “We get to a house in the neighborhood, we get to the garden gate, and my dad gave me the two little suitcases, and he said, ‘We'll see you in a couple of weeks – go in that house, and take very good care of your little sister,” said Dahme.

   Her childhood was incredibly difficult, but even amidst the evil of World War II Dahme found goodness in people. Dahme recalled one moment when she brought to visit a young Jewish boy who was hiding from the Nazis by living under a trap door.
 
   “I was [instructed to bring] him something to eat once a day, but [to] be very careful that nobody [saw] me. [And] everything was fine until one day I brought him something to eat, and came back up with the pot in my hand and looked, and there were half a dozen German soldiers standing there just looking at me. I put the trap door down. They stood and watched,” said Dahme. 

   Dahme recalls praying every night that her action would not lead to the arrest or murder of the boy, her guardians during the war, or her and her sister, and to her relief, it never never did.

   “[When] I became an adult, I realized what happened there. These were soldiers who had been drafted into the army, or they were not Nazis, and probably had families of their own and children, and just pretended they never saw this. Even amongst all this evil that was going on, there was goodness also, and [that] saved our lives.”

   Dahme’s village was eventually liberated by Allied soldiers, but even after the war was over many who survived the Holocaust, including Dahme, did not want to speak up about their experiences. 

  “[They] didn't want to talk about it, not even my own parents. They said, ‘[it’s] over and done, life has to go on. We're not going to talk about it,” said Dahme.

   When Dahme moved to the United States in 1950, she remained silent for many years, in part because of her poor English. It was not until later in her life that she decided that it was time to tell her story. In March of 1981, she saw a program on 60 Minutes about a man named Raul Wamberg who saved many Hungarian Jews during the war. The next week, the presenters shared viewer reactions to the program, including a harmful conspiracy theory from someone Dahme knew personally.

   “The Jews of Europe were not exterminated in gas chambers. The gas chambers were wartime propaganda fantasies,” the comment read.

   The fact that someone she knew could deny the horrible events of the Holocaust shook Dahme deeply, pushing her to communicate the horrific truths of the Holocaust. 

  “This is when I decided I was going to start to speak up. It was very difficult at first, because these were things that were back in my head. I never talked about them. And when you start to tell a story of some experience, as you're describing it, you're seeing it, you're reliving it. But I decided the time had come that I should speak,” said Dahme. 

   Dahme has since written a book about her experience as a hidden child and talked to countless students and teachers across New Jersey, eventually leading to her induction into the New Jersey Hall of Fame in 2014. Superintendent Michael LaSusa first met Dahme in his previous school district, and decided it was important she come to PHS too. 

   “Education is what prevents hatred and intolerance. Understanding other people, understanding oneself, having respect for other people, all of that is what we hope to foster when we educate anybody, children and adults. Hearing [Dahme’s] message … reinforces the importance of education as a means of understanding others and reducing … intolerance,” said LaSusa.

Photo: Katherine Chen

Dahme, one of around 220,000 remaining Jewish Holocaust survivors, speaks in PHS’s Performing Arts Center.

PHS hosts Muad Dahme, a Holocaust survivor and “hidden child” during WWII

PHS chemistry teacher Matthew Krip joined PHS in 2024 after 13 years of teaching 
chemistry and biology around New Jersey. He began his educational career at two 
alternative schools: Newark Innovation Academy and later Newark Leadership Academy. 
He then transitioned to teaching at Scotch Plains-Fanwood High School, a suburban 
public school. 


“In Newark I had the privilege of teaching the marginalized in our society through 
alternative programs ... Scotch Plains, however, was a distinctly middle-class experience,” 
said Krip.


 Though he valued that experience, Krip says he feels more at home at Princeton High 
School because of the way PHS’s rigorous curriculum supports its students’ intellectual 
growth. 


Krip himself had a unique educational background: he did not have a traditional high 
school experience and also only developed an interest in chemistry during college, after 
hating the subject in high school. 


“I got kicked out of my grammar school [before] high school because … it was a 
religious school, and I asked too many questions. My parents didn’t want me to be in 
the public high school in Jersey City, so they signed me up for homeschooling through 
VHS tapes [of] teachers from Florida ... I basically homeschooled myself with VHS 
tapes,” said Krip.


Krip holds two masters degrees in philosophy and chemistry, along with his bachelor’s 
degree in biology. He is currently taking classes on biophysics, an interdisciplinary science 
which uses physics to explain biological phenomena, through Princeton University’s 
Continuing Education Program. He brings his passions for philosophy and chemistry 
into the classroom too.


“[There are] students ... [who] have a prejudice that anything that comes in front of 
them was made by someone or someone put it together. And so we’re getting right at 
the core of some really good, intense philosophy. That prejudice, it’s filled with hubris, 
because every single object in reality is held together by these attractions that we 
investigate in chemistry,” said Krip.


He tries to show this connection by creating new lessons that combine real-world 
applications and the more conceptual aspects of chemistry, such as a project on the 
Flint Water Crisis.


“I use a lot of online tools to convey feedback, small groups and discussions, and I like 
making puzzles out of things and using lots of media,” said Krip. “There is this alternating 
rhythm of introducing a theme, making sense of it, working through different problems, 
applying the concepts and then bringing in the math.”


In the remainder of his career, Krip hopes to bridge the large gap he believes exists 
between the sciences and humanities, by continuing to showcase the overlaps between 
philosophy and chemistry, and by possibly introducing a new biophysics courses at 
PHS too. 


“I am free to be myself and teach ... which is an incredible privilege for me. Hence, 
why I am absolutely driven to use every opportunity I have to honor this in reference 
to my calling and this community,” said Krip.

Photo: Viola Que


Krip explains molecular structures to John Woodfield ’27 in Chemistry I Accelerated.

Uma Kleven's Work