Sussex student Jenny Bathurst chronicled Covid week by week. She has returned to share thoughts, fears and hopes. Jenny is studying journalism at the University of Brighton, based in Eastbourne.
I would love to say that my first ever university lecture was unforgettable, but it wasn’t really. Because I can’t remember much about it at all. One thing I do remember was awkwardly introducing myself to a girl who I reckoned must be sitting the Journalism course too, and assuring her that I would probably never be able to pronounce her name due to her Italian title. Now, she is my best friend and I can almost definitely say her name correctly (on a good day). However, aside from that, the day has become sort of a blur. And funnily enough, submitting my final piece of work for university felt just the same. Rather mundane and not much to remember. This might sound like a rather negative statement, and perhaps I should really milk it for the sake of poeticism: “As I closed the lid of the laptop I pondered nostalgically on the previous three years with delight and curiosity, eagerly wondering where the next three might take me.” But this isn’t quite true. If anything, it felt just as memorable as hitting ‘submit’ on the first, second, third and fourth essays I handed in during my time at the University of Brighton.
Of course it was satisfying, and I am certain that July’s graduation ceremony will bring with it such a sense of achievement, but sitting cross-legged on my bed on a random Tuesday morning I felt such a sense of, ‘what now?’. I am very fortunate to be in full-time remote work so I certainly won’t be twiddling my thumbs, but to for the most part of your life constantly have the same narrative of ‘work, revise, study, write’ and then have that grind to a halt so suddenly is rather startling.
As individuals we are in full-time education for such a large period of our lives, which is of course a massive privilege but also a reminder of constant standards that we are expected to live up to from such a young age. Scribbling down notes and typing up essays into the evening has become part of my routine, knowing that as long as the project eventually gets completed and the best grade is achieved then any amount of hours working was worth it. And then, all of a sudden, you are thrust into a world where it all stops between 17:00 and 9:00 and you are expected to focus on the rest of your life. To be honest, I am finding this a challenge. Since submitting my dissertation I have often found myself when the clock strikes 5:00pm thinking, ‘there must be some more work to do’, and when there isn’t and I hesitantly start to read my book or relax, there is an overriding sense of guilt. From 4-year-old Jenny bringing home her vowel sounds to practise up to very recently, as 21-year-old Jenny wrote a 7000 word academic piece, it is so prevalent that this is a new chapter. A new schedule, a new way of thinking and a new life in a sense. Now never put me in front of a textbook again, please.