It seems as if almost everything now requires at least some level of financial cost, most of it being our own school clubs. Clubs fill a weird but necessary role for the average DV student: the majority need them for their college applications, want officer positions to prove they actually achieved something in high school or simply want to express their interests. All of which is completely fine, aside from the fact that simply participating in many clubs in any meaningful way has grown more of a financial burden.
Whether it’s tournaments, buying food for an event or even membership, it’s becoming increasingly harder to attend a club without spending something. If you want to participate meaningfully, it is guaranteed that you’re going to spend at least some dough in the process. Spread this amount across multiple clubs throughout the year, and prices will skyrocket.
Personally, I’m not immune to this spending either, as I’ve spent around $3,000 on what can be seen as the bare essentials of participating in tournaments over my entire high school years. That cost isn’t exactly the club’s fault — tournaments cost money, events cost money and when the school isn’t paying for it, someone needs to shell it out. This problem really manifests when there is an inbuilt cost to the ability to truly participate in a club: when “playing the game” is inseparable from the idea of spending money.
Since clubs have become such a keystone part of participating in high school in general, it essentially means that if you don’t spend any money, you can’t really go anywhere. This idea of cost-centered participation creates another problem as well when officer positions start opening up. The choice, while not directly chosen by a metric of money spent, is by participation and “dedication.” The problem is twofold. Not only does it make it harder for the clubs themselves to find qualified people, as there is a whole sector of them who might not be willing to put in that money, but it also means that it creates an exclusionary effect on those same people. If the only way to determine dedication is through participation, and that coincides with a financial aspect, it means that, at the very least, you can kiss those officer spots goodbye if you are willing to put in the cash.
It’s not exactly that clubs aren’t important either. When colleges get more competitive each and every year, it becomes harder to really define a “you.” When one of the best ways to do that, clubs, often means spending a couple of thousand dollars over the course of four years, it means that if that is not something you can do or are willing to do, you are at a disadvantage. It’s understandable that there is a cost to running a club, and that clubs need money to provide better opportunities. But when they do have the money, there isn’t really an excuse for upping prices. At the very least, it should be up to the clubs themselves, not the members, to find ways to be affordable or subsidized in any possible way, which is very often not the case.
There are clubs that are able to make things more affordable, though. In many scenarios, clubs have outside revenue streams that help bridge that financial gap. However, the majority of them don’t. It only leads to the people who can pay that price to “play the game” succeeding while the people who can’t are left behind.
The point is that it is up to the clubs to make options. It doesn’t matter if prices are difficult to change or if they aren’t in a position to make the price easier to swallow; they need to find a way, or at least make it so that there are roads for people who can’t pay that price to be able to participate. Not only does it hurt the people who can’t pay it, but it also hurts the clubs themselves when they limit who can and can not meet the boundary for entry. We need to stop treating making things accessible as a big leap or something radical, as it is, in fact, the bare minimum for everything.
