#but I’m nervous about how they’re assessing this tuition fee

[eeunwoo]

uni admissions contacting me to assess my tuition fee status im sweating like this 😰

[jed-thomas]

Debt and Unreality at a British University

Most of the time, when journalists or researchers ask students in Britain about their “concerns” and their “experience”, they’re not looking for answers like: ‘I don’t feel real.’ Because, well, what do you do with that?

A friend of mine sat on a stiff leather couch in the hallway, tiredly scrolling. She’d just clocked out. For nine grand, we were getting about 7 hours of teaching a week. The rest of the time, of course, was supposed to be devoted to reading all the material we’d be discussing in seminars or attending lectures on. But she was working part-time at a Pizza Express. The maintenance loans only stretch so far, especially with rent around here. And you have to catch a bus to get to campus. Lots of us, our parents helped out. But if the ‘rents can’t or won’t pay, you’re a little stuffed.

In 2019, it was reported that over half of young people are now attending university. These figures represent the fulfilment of a target set by Tony Blair at a Labour Party conference in 1999, during his first term as Prime Minister. In July of the year before, Blair’s parliament passed the Teaching and Higher Education Act, introducing tuition fees for universities across the UK. In 1990, around 25% of young people stayed in some form of full-time education beyond the age of 18. Today, most young Britons will have experienced the presumption that they’re a university student and frequently, the expectation.

Yesterday, the University of Warwick’s official Twitter account shared a link to a blog post on how to ‘relieve intense stress in 60-seconds.’ The post was written by a current student.

In 1962, towards the end of Harold Macmillan’s Conservative premiership, “ordinarily resident” students were exempted from tuition fees and made eligible for a means-tested maintenance grant. Shortly after the Teaching and Higher Education Act of 1998, maintenance grants were replaced with loans. In 2004, the cap on tuition fees rose to £3,000 and by 2010, it had risen to its current rate of around £9,000. There were protests over that last increase, of course. The protests were in 2010 and I went to university in 2017. I now owe the British government around £27,000 for tuition and around £10,000 for maintenance. If you’re going this year, you’ll end up owing roughly the same - more, if your family earns less than mine.

You hear things. “Oh, they’re antidepressants.” A friend with a weird flatmate who never leaves their room. Oddly intense desperation eking out of drunk students from some corner of a smoking-area. Vaguely recognisable names and their time of death. “Honestly, just couldn’t be bothered to get up.” An acquaintance from your course drops out and moves back home. Barely concealed frustration in your professor’s tone, hushed rants in faculty corridors. And you notice other things. Admissions of 'suicidal ideation' and life-crises on a FaceBook page which is supposed to be about students sending anonymous messages of romantic interest. Sarcastic tweets about ‘mental health dogs’ and ‘mindfulness seminars’ have become cliché. A routinely empty chair in your seminar room. Strained eyes staring into the middle-ground, silence attending the teacher’s question. Dysfunction as normality. Your diagnosis in your bio next to where you go to uni.

In 2014, it was reported that one in seven full-time students also work full-time. The same report put the proportion of full-time students working part-time at a third. A number of reasons were given as to why they were doing this. I wonder, when they look at their bank accounts, or their accommodation, or their text on sociology, on Latin American history, on virology, existentialism, do they feel they have a handle on things? "I’m a full-time barista, full-time student." "Hello, I’m an impossibility."

For students, the British university is an experiment in unreality. Am I a customer or a pupil? Am I demanding a service from a business or being educated by my elders for my own good? Will it be my fault for selecting a ‘non-applicable’ degree or their fault for selling it to me? Everything is optional, even when it isn’t. You spend all week pouring over the text but feel embarrassed to correct or question the people who clearly didn’t because the professor doesn’t: “Don’t worry if you haven’t done the reading.” Next time, you just put in a sentence or two to fill one of the many silences, improvising off of what others have said, pretending you read whatever it was. Then, of course, coursework is set assessing your knowledge of the curriculum. You spend a couple of days stressed out, hoping to turn your lack of knowledge into a scholarly tone of caution and hedged bets. You go to a careers fair, a student union election, a party, a debate. Nothing sticks, tomorrow is the same day. Your teachers are devotees of a faith but you have to fill the ranks of their picket against the Church. The protestors mass, fill the campus with tension and noise, and then, in a couple of weeks, you’re sitting in the same seminar room with the same professor doing the same thing. You have to think surprisingly hard to remember that past, fugitive now in an opaque present. The only thing that changes is that a few new buildings emerge from their shells of scaffolding. When you miss almost five weeks, there is an email or two. One time, because of your chronic truancy, you get some mark or something, some strike against your name. Nothing happens. In fact, you find it incredibly hard to even find the place where that warning is actually recorded, displayed. You graduate with a First.

Recently, there has been a steady trickle of data, news items, and reports, gradually exposing the rate of suicide in higher education in the UK. It came to a head last week, as a Conservative peer, Lord Lucas, called for a bill which would give British universities a duty of care in the mental health outcomes of their students. Lord Lucas’ plea represents the mainstream of a movement by aggrieved parents of young people who took their lives whilst at university. One of these young people was Benjamin Murray, a 19-year-old in his first year studying English Literature at Bristol University. Shortly before falling to his death, Murray was told by the university that he would have to leave. A local newspaper reports that, according to sources at the university, his attendance was ‘sporadic’ and he had ‘failed to hand in expected work’. Discussing interactions he had with Murray which revealed that the undergraduate was suffering with an anxiety disorder, senior tutor Ben Gunter remarks that: 'A large number of students we see have varying levels of anxiety.’

I mean, look at it this way. You’re saddled with a debt, a sizeable debt. It makes you nervous just looking at all the zeroes. But this moment of selling your soul was planned, it was expected from the beginning. And there are voices all around you that keep coming up and whispering in your ear. It’s just a tax on spending after education. No-one’s expecting you to pay it back. It all gets forgiven when you hit 40. What’s a person to do in that situation? The same government that portrayed the national debt as an existential threat is the same government that turns around and says: Don’t worry. Does debt matter or doesn’t it? Is this real or isn’t it?

People are screaming, again. It's 5:35 in the afternoon. Earliest you’ve heard it this week. They’re really drunk. Or on something. You’re only dimly aware of it, really. It’s ubiquitous, it’s ambiance. Dimly, you wonder if they realise how loud they are being, how obvious their public intoxication is. You perk up when you recognise a few voices. People on your course - you’ve got an essay due tomorrow at noon. Down the ages, goes the cliché, students are drunk and reckless with deadlines. But you’ve been wondering whether it really matters if you get a 1:1 instead of a 2:1. Don’t they inflate the numbers, anyway? And besides, it's experience that matters on a CV, everyone’s got a degree these days. I’d just be another idiot with a 1:1. Your flatmate drunkenly knocks on your door and you seriously consider going back on your refusal to go out tonight.

A survey of undergraduates in seven universities in England reportedly found very high rates of dangerous drinking, with 41% identified as ‘hazardous drinkers’. It also considers that one in five students were likely to be diagnosable as alcoholic.

Every weekend students give in to the unreality. I know what you're thinking. Of course, young people have always experimented with substances, acted like they were invulnerable, ignored consequences. But many of the young people before us were unfamiliar with this level of unreality, this level of confusion. So the recklessness intensifies in those claustrophobic spaces that remain open to us.

I have deadlines, right now. A few days to go. I’ve been looking at the news, all the statistics on internships and jobs falling through for graduates and young people, in general. The worst hit. I’ve been talking to my friends, moaning about the job hunt, the rejections and the no-replies. Anecdotes tumble down the grape-vine of graduates from respected universities not even being able to get a part-time job at a supermarket because of the number of applicants or whatever. A couple of my friends are intermitting due to mental health problems. When I was home, before the most recent lockdown, a number of my friends and I worked at a pub. I’m back at uni and they’re still there. Class of 2020, all of us. Of course, they like it, it’s fine. But where do we go from here?

Don’t ask me, mate, I’ve got deadlines.

[carlisle980]

👀

Manchester, 1972

It would rain on commencement day. She checks her hair in the mirror one last time. She’s fixed it twice since arriving. Thankfully they’ve moved the ceremony indoors. She smooths her collar, rolls her shoulders. Practises her smile as the words of her speech run through her head. She mouths them, pacing, the click-click-click of her high heels echoing off the walls, setting a cadence for her to follow.

She is nervous. It isn’t that she lacks confidence in her ability to deliver the speech, exactly, it’s …

Her musings are interrupted by a knock at the door. “There she is … the woman of the hour!”

She turns to see Reginald Crawley stood in the doorway in coat and tie.

“Reggie! Oh wow, hi! I hadn’t expected you to turn up today. I didn’t know as Daddy could spare you.”

“We only had two patients on for this afternoon and both of them rang to cancel. And even if they hadn’t, your mum would have persuaded him to close early. It’s not every day his only daughter delivers the Head Girl’s speech at Lady Barn House.”

“About that …” she mutters, studying the floorboards.

“What is it? Not nervous, are you? You’ve performed a thousand times.”

She responds with a withering look. Meets his eyes. Sees him grinning, and grins back. Shrugging her shoulders, she tells him, “Yes, but speaking is rather a different animal from playing piano. That, and I still feel like a bit of an interloper, I suppose.”

“Because you’re leaving a year early and these aren’t the lot you started with.”

She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it promptly. He’s done it again, she realises. He’s said precisely what she’s thinking. Again, because it’s been happening rather frequently of late. It’s true that they spend a lot of time with each other, she managing the clerical things at her father’s surgery and he assisting with as many procedures as his training permits. She works the maximum hours allotted a secondary student, determined to put by as much money as she can for her university tuition fees. But her brother works just as much as the both of them, and if he’s got any inkling as to her mental state he seems completely oblivious.

Of course, there could be an explanation for Ed’s aloof manner of late. He’s recently been spending the little free time he’s got in the company of a young lady called Alice Tamworth. Alley. She was two years ahead of Isobel at Lady Barn House. She’s taking a degree in literature at U of M. Isobel likes Alley. Rather a lot, in fact. But she’s turned Eddie’s brains to mush. Which is why Isobel has resolved that love is not for her. The path she’s chosen demands excellence, and the pressure on her will always be greater by virtue of her having been born female. She can’t afford to give her studies — or her work — less than her absolute best.

Why, then, is it suddenly so difficult to ignore the piercing blue of Reginald’s eyes? And why does it feel as though his ability to discern tiny details about her is rooted in something deeper than just friendship?

“Earth calling Isobel,” Reginald teases.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was miles away.”

He grins. Was he always so handsome?

“Penny for them.” He pulls out a chair for her and indicates she should sit before taking a seat of his own.

She smiles softly, feeling her cheeks pink. “I doubt they’re worth that much.”

“Ha’penny, then.” He smiles again. Her heart pounds in her chest. He’s gorgeous. How had she missed it all this time?

“Have you noticed a change in Ed lately?” she manages. If he’s so skilled at reading her, she shouldn’t have to elaborate.

“You mean the way his brains leave the building whenever Alley’s around?” He shakes his head. “Wanker.”

“Exactly, and I hope you tell him that! Lad’s twenty; he can do what he wants, but—”

Reginald scowls. “No, he bloody well can’t! Not as much as your dad relies on him; never mind the fair fortune he and your mum are spending on his education. Oh I’m bally well brassed off with him; don’t you worry … missing clinic hours, failing to submit assessments. He’s had the world handed to him on a silver platter and he’s blowing it spectacularly. But haven’t you got bigger fish to fry?”

She grins. “Well then … tell us how you really feel!” He studies his shoes and she notices the way his ears redden. She likes that about him. Come to that she can’t think of anything she doesn’t like about him. Shaking off that realisation, she continues, “It’s everything you said … and I suppose it also makes me think that if love does that to a person, it’s an experience I’ll have to forgo.” He scoffs and she rebuffs him. “You can’t sit here and tell me I’m wrong, Reggie! Both you and my brother got onto the premed course by virtue of your marks alone. I, on the other hand, was made to provide twice the number of character references and go ten rounds with the department chair over whether my science A-levels will count seeing as I finished them a year ago. And all of that despite having higher UKCAT scores than the both of you!” She pauses for breath, her expression moving through agitation to resignation. Ruefully she adds, “It’s a risk I can’t afford.”

He rises from his chair and walks towards the door. It’s only moments until she’s due at the podium. “Look, I’ll go. I came to say good on you and break a leg and walk out there with your head held high because you’ve earned this …”

Getting to her feet, she moves to the doorway. “Reg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so ratty. Thank you for coming to see me.” She squeezes his bicep, smiling softly.

“I’m not going to argue with you. We haven’t any of us chosen an easy path: you, me, or Ed. And there’s no doubt you’ve had a harder go than us. You’ll always have an uphill climb. I just think it’s a mistake to write off love because of it.” The earnestness in his eyes catches her on the back foot.

“That’s as may be,” she demurs, eyes cast towards the floor. “All the same I can’t see why you should trouble yourself with what I think. I mean I know I’m like a little sister to you, but—”

“No, Isobel. That’s not how I see you at all.” Their eyes meet. He takes a small step closer to her. The world stops turning as she watches his eyes flit from her own eyes to her lips. He touches her shoulder, his hand moving up to cradle her cheek.

Surely he isn’t … He can’t … He is! He’s going to kiss me! “Reggie,” she whispers, almost too faintly to hear, “I don’t know how … I’ve never—”

“I know,” he murmurs. “It’s alright.” He leans in. She can feel his breath on her face.

I should close my eyes, she thinks. Aren’t you supposed to close your eyes? He stops just short of her mouth. Giving her time to pull away. Oh! he’s warm. And he’s handsome. And I don’t want to close my eyes. I should touch him. Shouldn’t I touch him? She’s never been in such close proximity to a man before. To be sure, she’s danced with Daddy and Ed at weddings and hospital functions, but they don’t count. She reaches up with uncertainty and fumbles, her hands finding purchase in the lapels of his jacket.

In the next moment his lips touch hers and apprehension vanishes. He is so gentle, brushing the backs of his fingers across her face. She has no idea what she’s doing, how to make this enjoyable for him, but as the first kiss melds into the second she opens her mouth under his, and then so does he. She makes a sound that surprises her, moaning into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and she doesn’t want this shouldn’t want this oh sod it all this is incredible but what the hell does it mean? Oh shut up, for the love of God would you just shut up and enjoy something like a normal person for once you fool?

“Oh!” she gasps loudly when the tip of his tongue slips just past her teeth. Alright, I was wrong; this isn’t unpleasant at all and his mouth is so sweet and I don’t want to stop and—

He pulls back. She gasps again, missing the softness of his lips. “Are you alright?” he pants. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She frowns, inching closer to him again, aiming to put her hands on his shoulders. He stops her, taking her hands in his own.

She has never thought of herself as small. In fact, she has scarcely ever given any thought whatsoever to her stature. Wit is the standard by which she has measured herself against others. Intellect. But now she notices two things: firstly, that her hands are tiny, held inside of Reginald’s. And secondly, she doesn’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, looking down at their hands. Her left thumb has begun tracing tiny circles over the blue veins on the underside of his wrist. He should stop her. He doesn’t.

“Why not?” she counters. “It was … nice. Wonderful, actually. I suppose the first time was going to happen sooner or later, and there’s no one I’d—” She stops herself suddenly, realising what she’d been about to say. There’s no one I’d rather have done this with. She scolds herself. But you just finished saying that love is for fools, not for women fighting like hell against men for the right to practise medicine. Not for you. Her cheeks flush bright red and she presses a hand to her mouth.

Yet he still holds the other. He waits for her eyes to meet his.

“There’s a longer conversation to be had,” he says gently, astutely. “But now you’ve got to go. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything, Isobel, if you don’t want it to—”

“Yeah, but you do! You never do anything unless you mean it.” She pauses briefly, pacing back and forth. “Right, I can’t talk now. But we need to do …”

“So ring me up when you’re ready. Best of luck out there, you’ll smash it. I’m going to go find your dad and mum.” He drops her hand and starts to walk away.

She catches his wrist. “Wait,” she implores him, sounding less steady than she means to do. “Reggie, I …” She leans in and presses her lips to his, deepening the kiss when a soundless ‘Oh!’ escapes his lips. “I don’t know, alright?” she whispers when they break apart. He nods. “But I’ll ring you.”

He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “You’ve done it, Izzy,” he says, giving her fingers a squeeze before leaving go of her hand. “Congratulations.” As he walks away she touches her lips. They still tingle from his kisses.

[usaadmission]

6 Tough Lessons I Learned While Studying in the USA as an F1 Student

Before you begin to do this sort of adventure abroad, you need to get a good understanding of the country’s difficulties and culture.

I’ll try to explain six actual experiences of someone who’s spent his student life in America in my writing.

If you’re someone looking for tips on how to survive in the U.S., read my article well

Part 1: The Initiation

I was determined to study in the United States. In this light, seven consecutive applications I was rejected from almost everywhere I was heartbroken.

Those were my first row of preferred universities and safe. My dreams for higher education almost ended when I got an invitation letter which was one of my favorite first-row universities, Iowa State University USA.

My joy is not like expressing in words

For the right reasons, I was excited, because I decided to go to the USA to do an MS and Ph.D. in civil engineering.

I was spending three tough months at home, honoring fellowships for one of India’s youth leaders in the coming weeks, funded by a year in Delhi.

Part 2: First months in the state of Iowa

I had a rather tough time moving to the United States for the first time. I was way too nervous about the house at first. My confreres were both Ph.D.

I had been discussing my mindset and research for months with a professor in my department. I got to reach him and told him I’d like to work with him for free because I wanted to do his research among all the other professors.

He agreed, saying that he would assess my success in class and study (I took a class with him) and then decide from there.

I was psychologically trained, without money, to go a month. I wasn’t looking for a part-time job, with my peers calling me nuts for free work and not talking to any teachers.

I was asleep thinking I was missing out on the 100% tuition fee.

Part 3: The Perfect Living Up

September 2015 The professor I was working with on my research after all our research and angled me and told me that He should have made me a quarter- RA!

Famous People Who Proved Perseverance Pays Off

To most of us, success is one of our biggest career ambitions. Nevertheless, performance comes in several shapes and sizes and is formulated differently by every one of us. Whatever success means, your chances are that hard work, commitment and, most importantly, perseverance will be required.

Part 4: Actuality

This is a bet that is worth making. Students know better when they’re fully involved and enthusiastic.

But with the good strides that the administration has made in enhancing STEM education, something needs to be achieved. When tomorrow’s jobs require students to develop increasingly diverse skills, more investment in these emerging learning tools will be critical to preparing students for success in future careers and life.

I agreed that I would stand up. The first semester saw me taking three courses (one of which I had taken in undergraduate studies) and doing work. It appeared to be manageable. That’s when the truth struck.

My mentor put me on a project he was setting up, which required a grant to become a fully funded project. I’ve had a year of funding to get tests and bag grants. I have been a participant for the opportunity.

For one thing, I’ve never been a coordinated person back in undergraduate. Again, most of us are not, because we’ve got one final test we’re preparing for, and that’s 100 percent of the score. Then there’s the chilled out tech lifestyle in the hostel that brought me to the US. I was mindful of it, but getting it off my back was going to do some research and commitment, which I was sort of at the time.

Part 5: Summer Time

University and Board of Regents, State of IOWA approve tuition and compulsory fees.

Tuition and payments for the fall and spring semesters are dependent on credit load at 5:00 p.m. On the 10th Class day.

My counselor called me to his office at the end of my Spring semester. To my dismay he told me that he was out of money for me. We weren’t getting the grant we wanted.

I’d like to consider a new form of financing. Professor told me to finish my research: another month of laboratory work and write my paper on what I learned. He told me to finish as soon as I could because from now on he will be unable to help me.

This is the only reason I quit my part-time job. That is why many people have called me a fool.

When I found out about the obstacles to my research, I decided to turn on my office computer and matured my mind to look for different areas for research and solutions.

I then talked to my mentor and he gave me the right direction.

Now it seems he looks at me with confidence, not with hatred.

Although my funding is not enough so of course I am still expecting something good but in the end everyone has helped me.

Part 6 Expertise:

1.Stick to your arms and stroll down the lonely road:

Over the years, I have been on an Experian location multiple times.

When my mentor was unable to make any money after many hardships, but I never left you, many people called me a fool. How do I find a summer job that entails other thoughts for my research?

2 .Perseverance:

Therefore, the secret to success is perseverance. The Brainiest Response! Perseverance is the deep resolve one has to attain its target.

3.Treat time for spending:

Keep it for what’s truly important: I’m not against graduate students employed part-time on campus. Not everybody had the option for a year of getting their fees paid off. But believe me, the time you save is a huge expenditure, for the sake of a few hundred bucks. Anything that you’ll be grateful for down the track.

I am writing this out of hope here. I’m not out of the wilderness, because I don’t have any verified funding source yet.

Things look good however, with work back on track, and the prospect of a Ph.D. That goes out to anyone who is having a hard time, not just a student of MS.

In light of all the above-mentioned experiences, I was fully prepared for next year’s IOWA State preparations for all subsequent emergencies with my mentor donor and to further expand my research.

from USA Admission – Study in USA , F1 Visa, Opt https://usaadmission.com/6-tough-lessons-i-learned-while-studying-in-the-usa-as-an-f1-student/