And such fears seem disturbingly reflected in the worries facing current upperclassmen. For Damplo, the sixth of seven children in a family that earns $40,000 a year, this year's almost doubled payments--now totalling $11,500--have caused "a lot of anxiety and family friction. They didn't have to spend this much on anyone else." Her younger sister will go to a public college. Another element of Damplo's situation, while not uncommon, tends to complicate matters with the financial aid office: Because of high costs and numerous siblings, she splits all costs with her parents fifty-fifty, a method with which Harvard's system of determining grant, family contribution, and self-help package does not necessarily coincide.

"We come to a decision as to how we think a student's education should be financed," Hicks explains. "If that doesn't correspond with the family's, that doesn't necessarily mean we'll re-think." If, as Harvard tends to recommend, one borrows the maximum and works at least one term, Hicks says. "It's difficult for the student to do much more."

Surpassing the recommended amount may become even more difficult this year--not only because costs are pushing both jobs and IGans close to their maximum, but also because of more stringent limits on this year's on-campus employment. Largely unendorsed "earning ceilings" in other years had allowed some industrious students to earn the federal work-study allowances of two or three.

Faced with probable cuts of around 10 percent--a $173,000 difference--"We thought it was worth dividing it up a little more evenly." Martha Homer, director of student employment, says. Her office plans to enforce ceilings more rigidly, and sent out worksheets over the summer asking students figure out whether they had yet surpassed theirs. The form was "more anxiety-producing than anything we've done in the past," Homer says.

Those whose packages--work-study or otherwise--have kept pace with costs seem to share nonetheless in the anxiety. Though plenty of aid recipients face no problems in the coming year, a "near miss" mentality makes itself known. "I'm getting thorugh at just the right time, I guess," says Colleen Ogle '83, an Ohio native whose senior-year grant grew proportionally to costs. "I felt very lucky--I knew it's getting tougher all the time."

Ogle, when comparing her circumstances with others', evinces the curious reverse reasoning that the logic of the aid office seems to inspire. "My father's salary went down some this year," she says, "so, in a way, I guess that was lucky."