Interrupted Thoughts
I remember my last day of the course (kinda). I barely attended a thing during the semester. So I was quite proud of myself for making the journey to campus, the sun even came out and it felt like the sky gave me a thumbs up. I felt empty in class, having failed last semester (surprise, surprise) I had no idea where to go from there. But there must be a way to recover. Surely I could pull off the most insane academic comeback known to m— What’s for dinner? Which coffee do I want today? Do I need anything from the store? Why is breathing so expensive? I hate this song, skip.
I got back to my room and fell onto my bed. In an hour, I had a meeting to discuss my results later. I had to convince myself and the faculty that I could pull off the most insane academic comeba— That plant needs watering. I need to drink more water. I need to do better. I need to be a better person. I should probably leave my room more and read more and study more. But I don’t like maths. That’s not true. I like it when I’m right. Chemistry is now physics, physics is just maths, I don’t even like maths unless I’m right. Maybe engineering isn’t for me. But you prayed for this… and the money, your family, and your A-levels.
Numerically Impossible
In the comfort of my room, I’m in the meeting. There was a letter on the system I hadn’t seen, dated the 28th of February 2024 (my 18th birthday). In short, it reads: you flopped semester one so badly that it is numerically impossible to recover. My 18th birthday would’ve been ruined if I had read this a week ago. 1 hand with tissue on my bleeding ear and the other wiping tears, so there’s that. But this also means I don’t have to stay in engineering. What now?
The most insane academic comeback known to man. What’s there to come back from? There is not a thing about what I was doing that I wish to do ever again. I do not wish to go back and have my worth defined by a grade I didn’t enjoy getting. I do not wish to go back to begging and pleading numbers for mercy. I was also tired of playing hide and seek with 𝑥, channelling my inner Sherlock for numbers disguised as Greek symbols. Despite my horrible introduction to the city, I still wanted to stay in Manchester. I’ve learned to be chameleonic, but moving universities was out of the question so I had to decide which department was next for me.
What’s Next?
The A I achieved in Literature was my saving grace in changing departments at the university. A few months before the exam date I registered to write, hoping my literary inclination would not let me down. I used to cry so much because the Highest in the World in History felt like an achievement that was collecting dust. So when I wrote my new personal statement I led with that. I didn’t need to convince myself that I could do my subject by romanticising a future I had no control over. I didn’t need to convince the faculty and exaggerate my passion for the humanities with research and jargon.
This is me, these are my achievements and if you let me in I’ll achieve even more. My innate ability to put my mind on a piece of paper did wonders because when you’re truly starving, you leave no crumbs.
I always thought my academic journey would be linear because I thought it HAD to be linear. I started ‘A’ Level Physics and Maths 1 year before writing an exam filled with 2 years’ worth of content. The exhaustion came from constantly humbling myself and repeatedly admitting I was struggling. I was frustrated because I had admitted defeat and was forced into battle over and over again. What stayed on my mind was 14-year-old me, promising herself that Algebra would never be a problem of hers. She was going to study humanities, get 3 A*s and do a great degree at a great university.
A Legitimate Struggle
Chemical Engineering at the University of Manchester sounds great. And it is. But for me, greatness doesn’t start and end there because without it I’m great. Chasing academic validation resulted in me constantly blurring the lines between striving and suffering. I found it extremely hard to wake up and go to class because I felt impostor syndrome all the time. As a minority, I dismissed it because I thought it was a normal experience. I soon realised that my coursemates had found ways to survive and I knew I wasn’t feeling out of place because of my race or gender—I just didn’t have the same drive as them.
Leaving the course made me feel seen because it made my struggle legitimate. It confirmed that my failure wasn’t due to my pessimism, laziness or unintelligence and it couldn’t be ignored or dismissed.
The End.
I felt a lot of emotions, but they were all clear and valid. I applied to study Social Sciences and was accepted within a few days. In reality, it’s been a few years. I’m glad that the first decision I’ve had to make as an adult has been one which is true to me and younger versions of me. The End.
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