Being a student at Oxford certainly comes with its challenges – something that, as Oxford students, we love to lament. The workload is intense, the nightlife limited, and the caffeine dependence debilitating. But whilst the University is not without its faults, since embarking on my year abroad, I’ve come to realise just how much there is to love about it. With this in mind, I think we could all use a reminder of the charm that lies at the heart of our wonderfully unique student experience.
I’m currently about three months into my semester studying at the École Normale Supérieure (ENS) in Paris, and whilst it is just as wonderful and surreal as you would imagine, I feel as if my academic muscles are beginning to atrophy. Without the weekly essays and the accountability that comes with tutorials – all of us with horror stories of turning up to tutes woefully unprepared will understand – I’m not doing anywhere near as much work as I would in an Oxford term. On one hand, I’m relishing the chance to step off of the academic conveyor belt for a bit, breathe, and enjoy all of the opportunities that living abroad as a student boasts (at this point I remember my tutor’s comparison of termtime to a lorry going down a mountain at full speed without any breaks).
But equally, there’s a part of me that misses the productivity and the fast-paced nature of a normal Michaelmas. Maybe this is the result of a kind of Stockholm Syndrome but, regardless, I’ve been reminded of why I chose Oxford in the first place. The opportunity to study my passion under the tutelage of leading experts is not something to be overlooked. At the ENS, my experience as an international student has been very different. Cours or classes are more like lectures, with little discussion or interaction, and the only assignments to validate modules are due at the end of the semester. This, whilst a welcome break at first, is definitely less effective at cementing my understanding of new topics and less engaging than the tutorial system.
Beyond the scope of the purely academic side of Oxford, there is so much more that I’ve come to miss – the little idiosyncratic oddities that make Oxford what it is. Formal dinners as a regular indulgence; heavily subsidised college bars never more than a stone’s throw away; gazing in awe at the dome of the Rad Cam every time I stumble across it… All of this is part of a microcosm of quirks and traditions that we might occasionally roll our eyes at but ultimately is close to all of our hearts. I know it’s embarrassing when you catch yourself using Oxford-specific vernacular with friends from home (“What the f*** is a bop?” – a dear friend of mine) but it wouldn’t be our university without it. With this in mind, I would venture to argue that the romanticisation we tend to deride so-called Oxford influencers for is not necessarily the crime we purport it to be. Why are we so intent on denying that (true to its Harry Potter connotations) Oxford can feel magical? Whilst I don’t deny that the intensity can of course be damaging, and too much pressure can erode the novelty of gorgeous libraries and eating in resplendent halls, I think we can also become desensitised to our University’s beauty too quickly.
Even the allure of Oxford itself springs to mind, which might seem odd considering I’m currently living in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But the small-but-mighty Oxford holds its own against the boulevards of Haussmannian buildings and views of the Eiffel Tower peeking around street corners. The way that the University is intrinsically intertwined with the city grants its students a special relationship with every nook and cranny of the place, allowing it to truly feel like home. So whilst running into an ex-situationship in the Tesco’s on Magdalen Street is a nightmarish reality, there is also something comforting about the snug muddle of colleges, libraries, and faculty buildings that makes up Oxford.
As I’m typing now, I cast my mind back to that day in Year 13 when I received my offer and was, predictably, overcome with disbelief and euphoria. I would urge fellow students to do the same – remember that attending Oxford is both a huge achievement and a colossal privilege. Amidst the essay crises and the weight of your sub fusc, remember to look up every now and then to appreciate where you are (unless you’re in the glink).
