I was broke. Not "I can't afford coffee today" broke—more like "how am I going to pay my share of rent next month" broke. The kind of broke where you check your bank account at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday night just to remind yourself how little is there, and then you can't sleep because the anxiety is eating you alive.
It was sophomore year at a mid-size state school, and I'd just realized my part-time job at the campus bookstore wasn't cutting it. Minimum wage plus 12 hours a week—that's roughly $120 a week before taxes. After my share of rent, utilities, and food, I had maybe $40 left over. That's not enough to actually live. That's not enough to build any kind of safety net.
So I did what every desperate student does: I went online and started researching side hustles.
The internet promised me everything. "Make $500 a week freelancing!" "Earn passive income while you sleep!" "Turn your skills into cash fast!" "This one weird trick that companies don't want you to know!" I was hopeful. I was naive. And honestly? I was willing to try almost anything if it meant having actual money in my account by the end of the month.
Over the next year and a half, I tested five different side hustles. Some were complete wastes of time and energy. Others made me a little money, just enough to feel like I wasn't completely failing. Only two actually worked well enough that I kept doing them and could recommend them to my friends without feeling like I was setting them up to fail.
This is the honest breakdown of what I learned.
Why Most Side Hustles Fail Students (And Why I Almost Gave Up)
Before I break down each side hustle I tried, I need to be real about something that the "make money fast" blogs never mention: most side hustles fail students not because students are lazy or unmotivated, but because the market is brutally stacked against us.
When I started researching, I noticed something that became clearer the more I paid attention. Side hustles that work for full-time adults with years of experience, established reputations, and built-in networks often completely flop for students because we're starting from absolute zero. We have no portfolio. No credibility. No track record. No testimonials. No testimonials. Meanwhile, we're competing against people who have all of those things plus sophisticated tools and strategies.
The other problem? Time is the real currency, and most students are broke in both money and time. Everyone talks about "quick money" and "flexible hours," but quick is relative. A side hustle that takes 10 hours to set up and 5 hours a week to maintain might be worth it for someone with genuinely flexible time. For a student juggling four or five classes, a part-time job, maybe some extracurricular commitments, and the bare minimum amount of sleep needed to not hallucinate during midterms? It's not just demanding—it's actually exhausting in a way that affects your academic performance.
Most of the side hustles I tried failed because they either required significant upfront work with zero payoff, or they paid so little per hour that I was actually better off studying harder for exams, getting better grades, and building a resume that would lead to better job prospects after graduation. In some cases, the opportunity cost was just too high.
The 5 Side Hustles I Actually Tested (With Real Numbers)
1. Selling Notes on StudySoup (Complete Failure)
I tried this one first because it seemed almost too good to be true. StudySoup is a platform where students upload their class notes and get paid when other students buy them. The promise was incredibly simple: you're already taking notes in class anyway, so why not make money from them? It seemed like found money. Free cash for something you're doing regardless.
The platform's marketing is really compelling. They show you success stories of students making $500 a month, students buying their way through college, that kind of thing. I bought into it completely. I was certain that my notes would be different—better organized, more thorough, more useful than what was already on the platform.
Here's what I didn't account for: not all notes are valuable. Worse, most notes are actually pretty similar. I spent a solid weekend uploading notes from my General Psychology class and my European History class. I was genuinely excited. I thought my clear handwriting, my color-coding system, and my bullet-point style would make them popular with other students.
For three months, I made absolutely nothing. Zero dollars. Zero cents. I'd get the occasional view—I could see the analytics—but no purchases. Then I got a sale here and there—maybe $0.50 from one note set. By month four, I'd made $3.47 total across all platforms I uploaded to.
I deleted my account after that. The problem is market saturation combined with the platform's trust economy. For any popular class—and psychology and history are both popular—there are already dozens, sometimes hundreds, of note-takers uploading the same content. Students buying notes aren't going to take a chance on someone with zero ratings and zero reviews when they can buy from someone with 500 five-star reviews and hundreds of sales. Why would they?
The platform also takes a cut, so you're not even getting the full purchase price. And there's no way to differentiate yourself when you're new. You can't offer discounts to get your first reviews because the economics don't work. You'd be making pennies.
I asked some friends who had success on StudySoup later on, and they all said the same thing: they made their money when they first joined, when competition was lower. By the time I got on the platform, it was already saturated. The window had closed.
Time invested: About 10 hours uploading notes, organizing them, optimizing titles
Money made: $3.47
Hourly rate: $0.35/hour
Why it failed: Extreme market saturation, no differentiation for new sellers, zero incentive for students to buy from someone with no reviews, platform's cut making earnings microscopic.
2. Fiverr Gigs (Barely Worth Acknowledgment)
This was my second attempt at the whole side hustle thing, and I genuinely thought I'd finally figured it out. I signed up for Fiverr and decided to offer writing services. I'd maintained decent grades in my English classes, my teachers said I had strong writing, and I figured there had to be people willing to pay for that.
I created a gig offering blog post writing for $5. Yes, $5 per blog post. Looking back at it now, that was genuinely stupid, but I didn't know better at the time. I had this optimistic idea that if I got enough gigs, the volume would make up for the low rate. I thought people would see my low price and line up to buy from me. That's not how Fiverr works.
For the first month, nothing happened. Literally zero orders. Not a single message. My gig just sat there on the platform with no visibility, no traffic, no interest. I'd refresh it hoping to see something. Then I realized why nobody was buying: I was a new seller with zero reviews, and Fiverr's algorithm doesn't show new sellers to buyers unless they specifically search for them.
I was in a Catch-22. I needed reviews to get visibility, but I needed visibility to get orders. And nobody's going to order from someone with no reviews anyway.
So I did what I should have done from the start: I lowered my price further. I went down to $4, then to $3.50, trying to undercut competitors and get that crucial first gig. The theory was that once I had one review, everything would open up. I'd still get paid basically nothing for that first gig, but it would be an investment in future earnings.
I eventually got desperate enough to take a job writing a 500-word blog post for $5. I spent an hour and a half on it because I was genuinely trying to make it good—I wanted to earn that review. After Fiverr's cut, I made $3.75. That's $2.50/hour. For reference, that's less than I was making delivering food, and I didn't have to drive anywhere for Fiverr.
I did get a few more gigs over the next few months—never more than one or two per week, sometimes gaps of two or three weeks with nothing. I'd write one blog post, wait to get paid, get the payment, and repeat. The money was so minimal that I eventually just stopped logging in. I had maybe $89 after three months of work, which felt insulting.
The fundamental problem with Fiverr for beginners is that the platform is designed to protect buyers, which means new sellers are invisible until they prove themselves. But proving yourself means working for incredibly low rates until someone takes a chance on you. And even then, the rates don't jump significantly. I've talked to Fiverr sellers with hundreds of reviews, and many of them still say the pay is abysmal.
Time invested: 50+ hours total, including setup, optimization, and many unpaid hours bidding on gigs I didn't get
Money made: $89 across 3 months
Hourly rate: $1.78/hour
Why it failed: Can't compete with established sellers on visibility, too much time spent on each gig for the pay, race-to-the-bottom pricing dynamics, algorithm favoring existing sellers over new ones.
3. Uber Eats and DoorDash Delivery (Made Money, But Not Really)
Okay, this one actually felt like real work paying real money. I signed up for both Uber Eats and DoorDash and started doing delivery gigs around my college town. The appeal was obvious to me then: flexible hours, no application process to speak of, cash in my account within a week, and I didn't need anyone to hire me or build a following or gain approval. Just sign up and start working.
For about three months, I did deliveries 2–3 times a week. Friday and Saturday nights were best—that's when people were ordering the most food. I'd drive around town for three hours, complete maybe 8–10 deliveries, and make anywhere from $15–$25 per delivery depending on the distance and tip. If I stayed out for three hours, I could make $50–$70. It felt like real money. It felt tangible in a way that the previous two hustles hadn't.
But here's what the apps don't tell you and what I didn't calculate until later: you're paying for the car. I wasn't calculating mileage, gas, maintenance, and wear-and-tear properly. I was just seeing the money I made and feeling happy about it, checking my balance, and thinking "Oh good, I have breathing room."
Then my car needed new brake pads. Then a tire issue showed up. Then the check engine light came on. I realized I was probably netting closer to $8–$12 per hour when I factored in all those costs. Some delivery apps do show you estimated mileage, but that's just miles. It doesn't account for the actual cost of running a vehicle, which includes maintenance, insurance, and the depreciation on the car itself.
The bigger problem was the mental toll. After a long day of classes—sometimes eight hours of lectures and studying—going back out to sit in traffic and deliver food for three more hours felt soul-crushing. I was tired. I was stressed. And I wasn't making enough to justify how tired I was. I'd come home at 11 p.m., eat quickly, and fall asleep, which meant less time to study or be a normal person.
I also noticed that the delivery gigs dried up during winter break and summer, when there were fewer college students eating takeout. The income wasn't consistent year-round. There were weeks where I'd open the app and there'd be almost nothing available.
I still do delivery work occasionally when I'm really desperate for cash—like when an unexpected bill comes up or I miscalculated my budget for the month. But I don't count on it as a reliable income stream. I'll never build wealth doing this, and it's not developing any skills that will help my future career.
Time invested: 120+ hours over 4 months
Money made: $850 gross / ~$580 net after vehicle costs
Hourly rate: $4.83/hour (net), which is actually lower than I thought it would be
Why it semi-failed: Low hourly rate after accounting for vehicle costs, unsustainable schedule combined with full-time student responsibilities, no skill development, mentally and physically draining, inconsistent income.
4. Freelance Writing on Upwork (The First One That Actually Worked)
This is where things actually changed for me. I created an Upwork account and made a conscious decision to take a completely different approach than I had with Fiverr. Instead of undercutting everyone with $5 gigs and hoping for volume, I positioned myself as someone who could write specifically about education and personal finance. I had experience in both—I was living the student financial struggles firsthand, and I'd been studying education.
Instead of applying to every writing job on the platform, I carefully selected job postings where I genuinely felt I could provide value. I wrote personalized proposals for each one—not copy-paste templates that the client could tell had been sent to fifty other people. In each proposal, I explained why I understood the topic, what my perspective was, and why I was specifically a good fit for their project.
The first month, I got nothing. I sent maybe 15–20 proposals and got rejected on all of them or got no response. It was discouraging. The second month, I got my first gig. It was a $150 project to write three blog posts for an education website. Each post needed to be about 1,500 words, so roughly 4,500 words total. It took me about 8 hours total—that's $18.75/hour, which is not amazing, but it was a start. More importantly, it was a real project with a real client paying a real rate.
Here's what made the difference: I got a five-star review. The client was happy with the work. Suddenly, having even one five-star review on my profile changed everything. I started getting more job offers. Clients browsing freelancers were seeing my profile and reaching out. They were specifically looking for writers with proof that someone had actually hired them and been satisfied.
By month three, I was regularly getting gigs. I was making $300–$500 per month from Upwork. By month four, I started charging higher rates because clients were coming to me instead of me chasing them. By month six, I was making $600–$800 per month consistently.
I'm not going to lie and say I'm making thousands of dollars a month—I'm not. This isn't a get-rich-quick story. But I'm making enough that it actually moves the needle on my finances. It's the difference between having $50 at the end of the month and having $300–$400. It's real money that let me build an actual emergency fund, money that actually matters.
The key was being strategic: (1) positioning myself in a specific niche where I had real expertise and knowledge, (2) being willing to take slightly lower rates on the first few projects because I was investing in credibility and reviews, and (3) writing personalized proposals instead of spamming applications.
It took patience. There was a month where I made nothing. There was a month where I made $50. But I stuck with it, and it compounded. The first review led to a second. The second led to a third. Now I have enough reviews that clients see me as established, and I can charge rates that actually make sense ($15–$25 per hour on simple projects, $25–$40+ on more complex ones).
Time invested: 150+ hours total, with 75+ hours being low-paid early gigs while building reputation
Money made: $1,200+ over 6 months
Hourly rate: Starting at $8/hour, increasing to $15–$20/hour as I gained reviews and reputation
Why it worked: Built genuine credibility, sustainable income stream, skill development that transfers to real-world career skills, ability to raise rates as reputation grows, work aligned with my interests and knowledge.
5. Reselling Textbooks (Worked, But With Caveats)
This one was actually accidental. I'd bought a couple of textbooks from Amazon that I didn't end up needing—one for a class I dropped, another for a class that went online and didn't actually use the textbook. Instead of just accepting the loss, I listed them on Amazon to see if I could sell them.
They sold. Fast. Within a week, I had $60 in my account from shipping them out. I realized I was onto something.
That got me thinking strategically. What if I systematically found textbooks being sold cheaply and resold them for a profit? I started checking local Facebook Marketplace, OfferUp, Craigslist, and the campus bulletin boards for people selling used textbooks. I'd look for books that were listed low—say, $30–$50—that I could resell on Amazon for $50–$80.
For a few semesters, this actually worked. I'd make $200–$400 per semester doing maybe 5–10 flips. It wasn't life-changing money, but it was consistent. I didn't need any special skills or certifications. All I needed was to know what textbooks were worth, how to negotiate a good deal, and how to ship them properly.
The catch? It's extremely seasonal. During summer break and winter break, nobody's buying textbooks. Nobody's taking classes. Amazon's textbook category becomes a ghost town. Also, I had to have capital upfront to buy books, which meant my money was tied up while I waited for them to sell. Some books sold slowly and tied up $50–$100 of my money for weeks while I waited.
There's also the hassle factor. Packing and shipping books is tedious. Sometimes a buyer would dispute a claim about the book's condition. Sometimes shipping took longer than expected. Sometimes I'd buy a book thinking it would sell and it would just sit there—a bad deal that I'd have to mark down or eventually return.
I still do this occasionally, especially when I see a good deal or when I genuinely need cash before the semester starts and I expect to get textbook returns. But I can't count on it as a reliable income stream. It's more of an opportunistic side gig—something I do when the opportunity presents itself.
Time invested: 30+ hours over 2 semesters (including negotiating deals, listing, packing, shipping, and customer service)
Money made: $420 net after Amazon fees and shipping costs
Hourly rate: $14/hour, but extremely inconsistent month-to-month
Why it had mixed results: Low competition compared to other side hustles, relatively fast turnaround and immediate profit, but requires upfront capital, seasonal demand, requires time to source deals, and has customer service headaches that eat into profit.
What I Actually Learned From These Side Hustles
After trying five different ways to make money as a student, I learned some things that nobody tells you when they're selling you the dream of passive income and financial independence.
Not All Money Is Worth the Time Investment
This was the biggest realization that changed how I think about side hustles entirely. I could make money delivering food, but I was exhausted. Genuinely exhausted. I could make money flipping textbooks, but only seasonally and only with capital upfront. I could make money on Fiverr, but for pennies per hour that felt insulting when I calculated it afterward.
The side hustles that actually worked—Upwork freelancing and textbook reselling—had something important in common: they paid enough per hour (eventually, in the case of Upwork) to justify the effort. I'd rather make $15/hour doing something I'm actually good at and that I don't hate doing than make $5/hour doing something mindless that leaves me exhausted and behind on sleep.
This changes your decision-making. Some of my friends started doing DoorDash and I said, "Yeah, I tried that—the math doesn't really work." They did the math themselves and some of them quit within a month. Some kept going because they needed cash immediately. But the point is, you need to calculate the real hourly rate, not just the gross money you see in the app.
Building Credibility Takes Time, But It's Actually Worth It
My Upwork income wouldn't have happened if I wasn't willing to take lower rates on the first few projects. I spent my first month making basically nothing. My first gig was $18.75/hour, which isn't amazing. But I was investing in something crucial: a track record. Reviews. Proof that I could deliver work that satisfied clients.
This is the frustrating part about online side hustles that nobody talks about honestly. There's almost always a setup period where you're working for very little or nothing. The question you have to ask yourself is whether the payoff eventually comes. With Upwork, it did. With StudySoup and Fiverr, it didn't.
The difference was positioning and patience. On Upwork, I was strategic about which jobs I applied for and I was willing to invest time in customized proposals. I also wasn't comparing my earnings to some fantasy version of Upwork where I'm making $5,000 a month. I was realistic about the timeline and the effort required to build up.
You Need to Pick Something That Aligns With Your Future
Here's something I wish someone had told me when I was starting out: the side hustle you pick should ideally develop a skill that helps your future career. This is the hidden advantage that took me months to notice.
Doing Upwork writing gigs helped me build a real portfolio of published work. I have actual samples I can show to employers. I can point to work I've done and say, "I've written blog posts for real companies with real audiences." That's actually useful on a resume. That skill will transfer to better-paying jobs after graduation. It's not just income; it's an investment in my career.
Delivering food? That's just paying bills right now. There's nothing wrong with that—you need money—but there's no skill development there. It's not going to make me more hireable after graduation. It's not going to help me negotiate a better starting salary. It's purely about survival in the moment.
When I look back at which side hustles were worth my time, the ones that combined decent income with skill development rank way higher than the ones that were just about quick cash.
Platform Dependency Is a Real Risk
I learned this the hard way with Fiverr and StudySoup. If Fiverr decided to change their algorithm or policies or commission structure, my tiny income stream would disappear overnight. Same with StudySoup. Same with DoorDash—the company has changed their payout structure multiple times, and drivers have no power to negotiate.
With Upwork, at least I have relationships with clients now. Some of them have asked me directly if I do work outside of the platform. Technically the platform's terms of service say I can't, but the point is that I have a reputation and relationships that aren't entirely dependent on the platform existing in its current form.
The more dependent you are on a platform's algorithm, the less control you have over your income. That's a real risk.
The Real Barrier to Making Money as a Student Is Credibility
After trying five different hustles, the clearest pattern I see is this: whatever side hustle you pick, your biggest barrier to real money is credibility. New sellers make less. New freelancers make less. New drivers make less. Until you prove yourself, you're invisible or suspected.
This is just reality. It's not fair, but it's how markets work. The question is whether you're willing to invest time in building that credibility, knowing that it might take weeks or months before you see real returns.
StudySoup failed partly because I gave up before building any credibility. Fiverr failed partly because the investment required to build credibility was too high relative to the payoff. Upwork worked because I was willing to take lower rates in month one with the expectation of higher rates in month three and beyond.
How to Actually Choose a Side Hustle That Works for You
Based on all of this, here's my framework for choosing a side hustle as a student:
Ask yourself: What's my actual hourly rate after costs and time?
Use a calculator. Include setup time. Include time spent on things that don't earn money—like applications you don't get, or customer service. Include all costs, even small ones. If it's less than $10/hour, ask yourself if it's really worth it.
Consider whether this builds a skill or credential.
Does this side hustle make you more hireable? More skilled? More credible in a field you care about? If the answer is no, it better pay really well or require very little time.
Pick something you're actually decent at or willing to learn.
This sounds obvious, but I wasted time trying hustles I had no business doing. My writing is decent, so Upwork made sense. I have a car and GPS, so delivery made sense. But I should have been more strategic about focusing on the things where I actually had an advantage.
Be willing to invest time upfront.
If you're building something with a reputation component (like freelancing), expect to work for low rates or no money for your first month. If that's not acceptable to you, pick a hustle that pays immediately, even if it pays less per hour.
Focus on things with low competition.
StudySoup and Fiverr are flooded with people trying to make money. Upwork is also competitive, but niches within Upwork are less saturated. Textbook flipping has low competition because it requires more work and knowledge than most people want to put in.
Be realistic about consistency.
Some side hustles are consistent (Upwork, once you're established). Some are seasonal (textbook flipping). Some are available but unpredictable (delivery). Know which is which before you commit.
The Honest Conclusion: This Isn't a Path to Wealth
If you're reading this looking for a quick money hack or a secret that's going to let you make $1,000 a month working five hours a week, I'm going to disappoint you. That's not real. I didn't find it, and I've talked to a lot of students who didn't find it either.
After a year and a half of experimentation, my reliable income sources were: (1) my original part-time job at the bookstore, which I kept the whole time, (2) Upwork freelancing, which took months to build up, and (3) occasional textbook flips, which I can't count on.
That's it. That's what worked.
The path to making real money as a student isn't sexy. It's not social media worthy. It's not "start a TikTok and get rich." It's: pick something you're actually good at, invest time building credibility and real skills, and be patient enough to let it compound. It's months of work that doesn't feel like it's adding up, and then suddenly you have a portfolio and reviews and a reputation.
That's the reality I wish someone had told me when I started.
My Recommendations for Different Types of Students
If you're good with writing or communication: Do Upwork or similar freelancing platforms. Build a portfolio. Accept low rates on your first few gigs. It takes time, but it works.
If you need cash right now: Do delivery driving or something like TaskRabbit. You'll make money immediately, but calculate the real hourly rate. Don't expect to keep doing this long-term.
If you have a unique skill (coding, design, tutoring): Freelance with that skill. Charge a real rate. People will pay for genuine expertise.
If you want to avoid a platform: Tutor students in your area, sell notes or study guides specifically to students in your classes, flip textbooks seasonally, or do odd jobs in your neighborhood. These have more variability and take more hustle, but you don't depend on an algorithm or platform policy.
If you want minimal effort: Accept that you'll make minimal money. There's no way around this. You can't have zero effort and real income as a student. Choose what trade-off you're willing to make.
Moving Forward: What's Helped Me Most
Since I figured out what actually works, I've shifted my approach. I'm not trying five new things anymore. I'm focusing on what works: getting better at writing, taking on more Upwork projects, charging higher rates as my reputation grows.
I still pick up a textbook flip when I see a good opportunity. I occasionally deliver food when I need cash before a freelance payment comes in. But these are supplementary. My real strategy is building something that compounds—a reputation and portfolio that makes me more valuable over time.
That's the actual path to making money as a student. Not quick cash, but real, sustainable money. It's boring. It requires patience. It requires work upfront without immediate payoff. But it's the only thing that actually worked for me.
- "How Can a Student Make Money Online in 2025?" — This covers legitimate online earning strategies for students, broken down by skill level and available time.
- "The Best 5 Side Hustles For Students In 2026 That Only 2 Make Money" — This is honest about which side hustles actually pay and which ones sound good but don't pencil out.
The reality is that making money as a student requires trade-offs. You're either trading time, energy, skill development, or immediate comfort. The trick is knowing which trade-offs are worth it for your life and your future.
I'm still freelancing. I'm still picking up textbooks when I see a good deal. I quit the delivery apps. And honestly? That feels like a legitimate win.
You'll find your own version of what works. It just takes honesty about what's actually worth your time.
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