Lauren, explaining why university is not a path she’ll tread.
Have I committed the biggest sin ever seen to the Human Race?
Be prepared, for what I’m about to tell you has scarred thousands, left millions gawping and made others fear for my life.
I’m not going to University.
For some reason, when I walked downstairs from my cave (room) and announced ‘Mum, Dad, I’m not going to University’ their dreams, hopes and faces just seemed to crumble.
‘But, what are you going to do with your life?’
‘We don’t want you living here forever.’
And my favourite doom mongering:
‘You’re going to end up on the street.’
Why is it that because I don’t want to be in £27,000 of debt, sit around for three years, get drunk all of the time and do a degree I’m not really that interested in, that suddenly I’ve become an anarchist in my family’s, teacher’s and peer’s eyes? I didn’t even think it was that bad. Sure, it’s daunting, wanting to be a journalist when there are about three journalism apprenticeships out there and the degree-owners hog them all, but the apocalypse hasn’t hit just quite yet, so everybody should just chill.out.
It’s not that I want to be a ‘rebel’ or ‘stand out’, because trust me I am in no way a hipster. My only problem with people just prancing off to University is that they don’t think. Most people, not all, just presume that going to University is going to land them a top-paying job in central London, living in a penthouse. This is not the reality. I know a very intelligent person who received a 1st degree in Politics and History, yet currently works in Wetherspoons. Yes, they are gutted.
Being in my last year of sixth-form everything is UCAS UCAS UCAS all of the time. So, to make my careers advisor stop nagging me, I applied anyway, to five universities I’m not particularly fond of, and wasted £21 in the process. Yay. Let me recite the conversation I had prior to caving-in with my careers advisor:
C.A: So, you’re going to University, yes?
ME: No, I’ve told you this 7 times.
C.A: Oh good, let’s get you logged onto UCAS then.
ME: I’m not going.
C.A: I bet your parents are proud of you for going.
ME: They would be, BUT I’M NOT GOING.
C.A: Now, your grades are amazing, Uni is going to love you.
ME: Yeah, and you know what else they will love? Me starting up a society called ‘People who don’t really want to be here’.
C.A: £21 pounds please.
ME: *Dramatically rip up the £21 in front of her face, burn it, and make a pact that I will never, ever become a careers advisor who practically pushes people through the front door of University kicking and screaming.*
(OK, so that didn’t really happen, but it did in my head, as I gave in and pressed ‘Send’ to UCAS).
I’m still in the process of convincing my parents that I won’t die if I don’t go to University, and telling my peers that I do actually have ambitious plans for my life.
I have 128 days left until my last exam, and I promise if I end up going to University then I will eat my hat, or should I say my trencher.