by David Craig
There is a worrying amount of pressure now routinely placed on almost all school leavers to apply to university. The combined expectations of parents, teachers and peers make it difficult for any young person with even a minimum amount of academic ability to choose any post–school option other than “Uni”. Ironically, this pressure to conformity is occurring at the very time when the average economic benefits of a degree are becoming less obvious compared with other routes such as apprenticeships. In 2013, the Times Higher Education Supplement reported on a survey of recent graduates of whom 76% said that they had not been informed of the alternatives to university before leaving school. 54% of these (or 41% of those surveyed) then stated that they would have undertaken an apprenticeship or vocational training rather than attending university.42 If the findings of this survey accurately reflect the wider pool of graduates, then this would be buyer’s remorse on an almost unimaginable scale.
The pressure to apply to university has made it very difficult for anybody with ability to choose an alternative path, regardless of their intentions or wishes. Worse still, the brighter and more able the individual, the more unthinkable it has become that they should choose not to go to university. It is ironic that the one social institution which should promote freedom of thought and expression should have become such an engine for social conformity. Throughout expansion, the default setting – the aspiration which has been sold relentlessly to all young people – is that a university education is de rigeur. Few things illustrate this dogmatic inflexibility better than the university clearing process.
Clearing
The pressure to apply to university reaches its climax in Clearing, a process which enables students without offers to apply to universities with course vacancies. Clearing is supposed to provide genuine choice to students who have missed their offer grades. In some cases, it can and still does that. But there are indications that throughout the Great Expansion, the primary purpose of Clearing has been to dump students, who possibly shouldn’t have been going to university, onto courses that shouldn’t have been offered by universities.
Traditionally, what Clearing has offered are the worst degrees possible: the fag end of expansion, courses offering plenty of graduate debt but few prospects of a graduate salary. As the Guardian noted in 2010:
“The great university crush is over while a few places remain, the University of East London still has space for podiatry and the University of Northampton could offer you a waste management degree that is pretty much it.”43
Given what is on offer in Clearing, it is especially unfair that university applicants from disadvantaged backgrounds (in particular, mature students and ethnic minority students) account for a disproportionate number of those using the process.44 This simply reflects, however, a much wider disparity in the university admissions process. There are significant differences in the chances of different social and economic groups obtaining a place on a golden–ticket degree.
Those who get a place through Clearing are often far from fortunate. They are more likely to drop out from their courses, wasting time and accruing debt for no purpose. In 2010, the independent student guide Push identified a strong correlation between universities heavily involved in Clearing and those with high drop–out rates:
“Of the ten unis that take in the most through Clearing, all but one have drop–out rates at least three points above the national average of 19%. In fact, at four of them, more than a third of the students flunk.”45
The fear fuelling Clearing is a typical symptom of the “Uni or bust” message we have been sold. Decisions about young peoples’ futures are reduced to an existential panic about going to “Uni”. It seems that any university and any degree will do as long as it happens now and they are not seen to be left behind by their family and friends. It is ironic that expansion has led to a situation that resembles the anxiety surrounding the old 11+ examination. What makes Clearing worse than the 11+ is that success in the 11+ did at least usually fulfil its promise of improving a young person’s prospects. Clearing, on the other hand, holds out the promise of making the grade when what it has actually provided during much of expansion has been a substandard product charged at the standard rate.
It is worth mentioning that in the last two years (2016 and 2017) the picture involved in Clearing has improved somewhat. There has been a broader range of courses offered by universities, including a very limited number of medical school places and a wider range of places at Russell Group universities. This has been driven largely by a fall in the number of 18–20 year–olds due to demographics. Thus, whilst the bulk of Clearing remains a substandard product, there have been a limited number of golden–ticket places available.
But this temporary improvement has only happened because of a shortage of young people, rather than any concern from universities about the value of the courses offered in Clearing or the quality of the school leavers being tempted to go to Uni. From 2020 onwards, when this trend starts to reverse, the more typical Clearing offer made throughout expansion will resume. Or, as a head of outreach and engagement at one university put in in 2017: “A few years ago, Clearing was embarrassing,” 46
In a few years’ time, it seems reasonable to suggest that the majority of the Clearing offer will be back to being embarrassing again, with students having to choose between courses such as podiatry and waste management. It seems unlikely, however, that the universities offering these dud degrees will be embarrassed enough to stop running them, well at least not while they can keep on banking the students’ ever–rising tuition fees cheques.
Still, there is some good news for those who have to go through Clearing. With often third–rate degrees in less than useful subjects from often third–rate institutions, they’re unlikely to ever earn enough to pay back even the rapidly–increasing interest on their student loans never mind the original loan. So they’ll be getting three years of education and all their living costs – a three–year holiday of sorts – absolutely free. Britain’s ever–generous taxpayers will have to pick up the bill.
CHAPTER THREE: STUDENTS: UNDER PRESSURE
“There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” Oscar Wilde
Forty years ago, it might have been possible to talk about one reasonably similar “student experience” at UK universities. If that was the case then, it certainly is not now. Our expanded university system provides an array of experiences. Exactly which experience a student receives depends on the university, the degree and their financial situation. It is important to be clear that some of today’s students will receive an excellent education at world–class universities; some will enjoy their degrees and get all of the benefits that graduate status should confer. Most, however, will not receive an excellent education, it is far from certain that they will enjoy themselves and they certainly won’t be walking into a graduate job. This is the most basic failure of expansion. To fully understand it we must consider student life before expansion.
The 1970’s are not generally considered a golden era in British history, but for students they were something of a high–water mark. Firstly, there were no fees or loans but instead a system of grants. Undergraduates could also use the benefits system, claiming housing benefit during term time and unemployment benefit during holidays. Secondly, students had access to a series of new purpose–built universities with cheap, on–campus accommodation. Thirdly, relations between academics and students became more relaxed, as parodied in contemporary fiction such as Malcolm Bradbury’s The History Man. This was partially due to shifting cultural mores and partially a product of the smaller scale of universities in the 1970s, where lower student/staff ratios enabled greater personal interaction. Finally, because there were a limited number of graduates, most if not all were able to secure graduate–level employment. Back then, degrees acted as a screening mechanism for employers and graduate status
was supported by its relative scarcity.
Today, things are very different. The financial support provided to students has changed dramatically. Accommodation is expensive and scarce and graduate employment prospects are anything but guaranteed. Rather than a three–year party, student life can be expensive, difficult and isolating. Visions of intense intellectual debate quickly evaporate because other students often lack ability, interest or subject knowledge and because academics have neither the time nor the inclination to engage. Instead of opening doors and expanding minds, university today can be stressful, unfriendly and restrictive. It is hard to view any of these changes positively, yet they have resulted directly from the Great Expansion. Collectively, they have undermined what has traditionally been the foremost expectation of “Uni”: that it will be an enjoyable and rewarding experience.
There are several reasons for this change. The sheer scale and size of universities has de–personalised the experience for most students. In 2009, the journalist John Crace revisited his old university, Exeter, 30 years after he graduated and noted that:
“There are more than 15,000 students now, compared with the 5,000 or so in the 1970s. And it shows. The place is heaving, with long queues everywhere. If you want a coffee, you’d better want it bad.” 47
The long queues aren’t just for coffee. Accommodation, sports facilities, student unions and lecture theatres are all now crammed. This is just the physical manifestation of the pressure that expansion has placed on nearly every aspect of student life. Now that almost half of young people attend university, pressure pervades every part of student life – there is pressure to get in, pressure to fit in, pressure to hold the right politically–correct views, pressure to get the right degree, pressure to get a graduate job, pressure to pursue a “career”, pressure to start repaying your student debt.
Whilst each individual student experience inevitably contains peaks and troughs, there is a growing body of evidence suggesting that being a student today is less enjoyable and more stressful than previously. In 2015, a National Union of Students survey of 1,200 students reported that 80% felt stressed, 55% experienced anxiety, 50% suffered from insomnia, 10% had felt suicidal and 40% had felt “worthless” or “hopeless” at times.48 It is well documented that students are accessing universities’ counselling and academic support services in growing numbers. In 2015, Dr Ruth Caleb reported that:
“At Brunel University London, where I am head of the counselling service, the number of counselling clients has more than doubled in the last 10 years. We know, anecdotally, that this is repeated throughout the UK.”
In 2015, a report from Higher Education Funding Council for England (HEFCE) examining student mental health found a rapid increase in the demand for counselling. It also suggested that the reporting of mental health issues by students to universities had more than doubled from 8,000 to 18,000 between 2008 and 2013. Crucially, the report identified that the problems reported had shifted from traditional student concerns about homesickness or relationships to more serious matters such as stress, anxiety or depression.49
The suicide rate of UK students increased by 56 per cent in the 10 years to 2016 to overtake the suicide rate of young people in the general population for the first time. Taking into account changes in the student population, the UK student suicide rate rose from 6.6 to 10.3 per 100,000 people between 2007 and 2016. The rate in 2016 was 9 per cent higher than in 2015, and 25 per cent higher than in 2012.
The factors underlying these issues are complex and the difficulties experienced by individual students are unique to them. It is clear, however, that there are collective problems affecting students, such as ballooning debt and worries about accommodation. We will return to each of these, but first it is perhaps useful to start by considering how the student body has itself changed during the Great Expansion.
The student body
“The undergraduate system is so rigid – the English department are so stressed out and uptight...it’s probably because they have so many people that they have to have such strict application of the rules and inflexibility. It’s just like being kids at school again. I feel that the university views me as an annoyance.” English and Philosophy graduate
At the centre of the student experience is learning and at the centre of learning in a university is discussion with other students, both in class and outside class. A student’s relationships with their peer group comprise one of the most important aspects of student life. Before expansion, students might have expected to engage with a collective of intelligent and motivated fellow undergraduates with an interest in their subject. Simply being at university put you and your fellow students in the top 15% of the population in academic ability. Today, such expectations do not apply in many universities. The student body has changed so much that this type of interaction is unlikely for all but a privileged minority. We can subdivide these changes into three areas: changes in scale, a widening ability range and a massive increase in international students.
1. Changes in scale
The student headcount has expanded by 300% during the last 30 years. This is an unprecedented growth for any major social institution. Nonetheless, the systems and processes which underpin learning, teaching and assessment in universities (lectures, seminars and exams) have remained broadly unchanged. This means that seminars that might have held half a dozen students now routinely hold 30 or more. Lectures that might have been for 200 students might now host 500. To operate on this scale, universities have adopted a mass–production factory model approach in their operations. This approach is, by necessity, focused on the needs of the average student rather than individual students. An academic lecturing hundreds of students has little chance of responding to them individually, let alone of developing relationships with individual students. The size of the student body provides limited space for personal interaction. For many students this is fine: they simply want to pass the module, bank the credits and move on. Studying is, for these students, an almost mechanical process in which the degree is a necessary stepping stone to hopefully a graduate job, rather than an end in itself. These students will generally seek to achieve their degree with the minimum of effort necessary to pass at the required grade.
For the bright student, interested in the subject, this factory approach to teaching is likely to be profoundly dissatisfying, affording them little encouragement to develop advanced subject knowledge or to achieve breadth or depth of understanding. For the less able student, this approach means that they can often receive little additional academic support to cope with the new demands of independent study.
2. A widening ability range
If students were once an intellectual elite, this is no longer the case. Given that the minimum entry requirements for some universities are equivalent to one or two grade Es at A–level, it is more remarkable if somebody can’t gain entry. In 2012, the Telegraph noted that Leeds Metropolitan University offered entry to 97 degrees with two grade Es at A–level and waived the requirement on many degrees for GCSE grade Cs in maths and English.50
Because undergraduates were originally the most academically able, extending the university franchise has inevitably negatively skewed the overall ability range of all students. This means that, by definition, the average post–expansion student is less able. The effects of this can be seen across all UK universities, both in terms of a lack of essential background knowledge and a lack of ability amongst undergraduates (it can be difficult to disentangle the two). To illustrate this, we can return to the issue of undergraduate entry qualifications. Figure 1 shows undergraduate acceptances in 2010 by their UCAS tariff points. To put this into context, UCAS awards 140 points for an A* at A–level, 120 for an A, 100 for a B, 80 for a C, 60 for a D and 40 for an E Grade.
Figure 1 - 2010 UK undergraduate applicants enrolled by UCAS tariff points
These figures show that 35% of undergraduates enr
olled with no tariff points at all and 51% of university undergraduates enrolled in 2010 with qualifications equivalent to a DDD at A–level or worse (180 or less UCAS points).
If we take into account three decades of A–level grade inflation, a massive increase in A–level retakes and the inclusion of AS–levels, ‘key skills’ and General Studies to boost an applicant’s tariff points, then describing these students as DDD quality is being more than charitable. It is hard to put a positive spin on these students continuing to Higher Education. A minority of them might be more able than their exam results suggest as not all people perform to the best of their abilities in exams. But the majority have already spent their final two (or more) years at school demonstrating either a lack of motivation and/or aptitude for Higher Education.
The student ability range has not just widened at the bottom of the academic league tables, it has also blurred at the top. Due to grade inflation, it has become difficult for universities to distinguish between students holding similar GCSE and A–level grades. In 1980, gaining three As at A–level would have meant that a student was exceptional. Today, this is no longer the case. In 2006, Professor Mary Warnock of Cambridge University warned that: “The scandal is that not only are universities overwhelmed by the number of A grades, but that the possession of an A grade is no guarantee that its possessor can write intelligibly, read critically or think analytically.” 51
These problems of scale and a widening ability range interact with and amplify each other. Attempts to cater for a wider ability range and a lower average ability are often frustrated by the scale and size of the student body, which create further pressure towards uniform and worsening systems and processes for teaching, learning and assessment.