The part that catches young adults out is not the size of the loan; it's the shape of a first payslip. So do a mock budget for the year after graduation. Pick a realistic starting salary for the field she's interested in, subtract tax and any repayment that would apply, then subtract rent in the kind of city where those jobs are, transport, food, phone, and something for a social life, because a budget with no joy in it is a fantasy. Whatever is left over is the honest answer to how the borrowing will feel.
This exercise isn't designed to frighten anyone. Most of the time it simply reframes the decision: a course that leads somewhere is worth borrowing for, and a course chosen because the prospectus photography was nice may not be. My daughter's version of this budget ended with her deciding she wanted to live somewhere with a tram, which is as good a reason to research a city as any.
How do I talk about money without crushing their excitement?
Separate the two conversations in time. Have the dream conversation first, with no numbers in it at all, so she knows you're on her side about the future she wants; then, on a different day, say plainly that you want to spend an hour on the money so it doesn't follow her around for the next decade. Framing it as "let's make sure this is affordable for the person you'll be at twenty-three" keeps you allies rather than opponents.
Is it worth borrowing for a course with no obvious job at the end?
Sometimes, yes, but the borrowing should be proportionate to the uncertainty. If the path after graduation is genuinely open-ended, that's an argument for keeping the debt small, choosing a cheaper city, living at home for a year, or picking an institution where the same subject costs less rather than abandoning the subject. A degree you love and can repay comfortably will serve you better than a "safe" one you resent, and better than a beloved one that takes twenty years to pay off.
