Like many working class students, I was told going to a good university was the only way to go further in life.
University was the natural next step I had to take; if I worked hard, I would be rewarded. But as I approach graduation, I am in over £50,000 of debt — which is rising every day with inflation — and the edge of the cliff is ever approaching.
This isn’t uncommon. The average student in the UK graduates with £53,000 debt. Graduates often gain more interest each month than the payments they make. Too many working class students are trapped in an ever-growing mountain of debt, yet the terms of taking out a student loan are rarely spoken about.
Applying for student finance is the only way for most working class students to afford to study, with no other real options available.
Even though I’ll be paying this loan for the next 40 years, I never saw any of it. Every penny paid goes directly to my university and my landlord. The current system works as a tax on working class students, which is even higher for students that decided to come to London.
Coming to university was exciting, I could finally escape where I grew up, meet new people and experience the uni lifestyle I had always wanted. But from day one, conversations about gap years, spring weeks and summer internships, meant all I could do is sit and nod.
Was I already meant to know about this? Was I already behind? The feeling of being an outsider started from the second I opened the door to my first-year accommodation. I had gone from being a big fish in a small pond to the ocean. Was I actually meant to belong here? Was my Access UCL offer just to fill a quota?
But I thought if I was not meant to be here, it shouldn’t be acknowledged. I had to be as good as my peers around me. I thought I had to set my own standards for my life as high as those around me. Because I would be paying for these three years for the rest of my working life.
However, working throughout university wasn’t just about keeping up with my peers or building my CV — it was so I could eat.
Even with my weekends taken up by work, I felt guilty that if I didn’t make the most of being a student every day, all this money was going to waste. Because in the end, if I didn’t get a good job (one that I didn’t even want but looked good enough on paper), then what was the point?
With no safety net to fall back on, I felt resentment for my background that I was proud of before I came to university.
The government can get away with making working class students pay more for their degrees if they don’t have the privilege to pay for tuition upfront if we aren’t aware of how unfair this can be, and don’t talk about it.
Checking LinkedIn to indulge in this feeling of guilt, seeing peers get job opportunities I could only dream of, I realised the door is already closing, and I haven’t even thought about the future.
There are no jobs unless you know someone, masters are unaffordable. But above all, if I let go of the promise that university was the only way to go further, the main justification for all this debt just wasn’t true.
I am so grateful for everything I have experienced at university. I have loved every second of meeting people from all over the world and making memories I will never forget. But looking at my peers, it is hard to feel like you belong when the feeling of guilt and not being enough dominates.
The graduate cliff is coming. I don’t regret climbing it, but all I know how to do is to fall.