David Richardson has spent over 40 years in higher education as an administrator, a manager, and a fund-raiser. He is an alumnus of Cambridge and of the Open University. He was the deputy registrar of Manchester University for 15 years and the academic secretary for a further 3 years. In this latter role he was responsible for student services (including admissions, housing, examinations, counselling, and careers) and for academic services and international relations. He was a trustee for 6 years of UKCOSA: the Council for International Education. He was a member of the European Association for International Education (EAIE) for 12 years, co-edited its 10th-anniversary publication Europe in Association (1999), and edited and contributed to International Alumni Relations (2001). He was also a founding member of the EAIE special interest group on this topic. David and his family make their home in the Lake District in northwest England.
Author’s note: This article is based on a presentation made to the Inter-Mission MK Education Consultation at High Wycombe in September 2007. This article focuses on questions that are of particular interest to potential candidates for entry to bachelor’s programmes in the United Kingdom (UK). I acknowledge with appreciation the comments made by participants in the consultation, and I hope that I have fairly reflected them in what follows. The opinions expressed are my own. Also, the facts and figures that are quoted may be subject to change.
I invite you to consider two students, Jack and Jill. Both are children of missionary parents.
Jack’s parents work in a country where Portuguese is the main language. Jack spent much of his childhood there and speaks the language fluently. In fact, he knows words in Portuguese that his parents don’t even know in English. He has decided that he will study Portuguese at the university. He reckons that the language side will present no obstacles at all—and as for the literature, he can always read the books in translation. This plan will, he judges, give him ample time to pursue his interest in rock climbing and to become active in the Christian Union (perhaps, he secretly hopes, to become president of the group, as did his aunt and his grandfather before him).
Jill knows exactly what she wants to do. Her parents are both medical missionaries, and she has no hesitation in saying that she wants to be a doctor. Medical school is her only possible destination. If you ask Jill what she would do if she were not able to get into medical school, she is very reluctant even to address the question. It is the Lord’s will, she is sure, that she should be a doctor. If she did not get in first time round, she would simply wait a year and then apply again. However, if you persist, she will concede that she could imagine studying English literature. If you ask her who her favourite author is; “Jane Austen” is the answer; and from the animated way in which she speaks, it is clear that she knows the novels and all the other writings well and that she has a grasp of the principles of literary criticism way beyond anything that someone her age might be expected to acquire.
We will return to Jack and Jill later. They and their contemporaries have to address the questions of where and what to study, how much it will cost, and where they might live. It is to these subjects that I now turn.
I believe that campus housing in the first year is highly desirable. It relieves parents and prospective students of worry in advance, and it means that the student can get to know others—and often make lasting friendships—across the boundaries of subject of study, place of origin, faith, or political allegiance.
Where and what to study?
In these days of expertly designed prospectuses on websites there is no excuse for ignorance. The danger is, rather, of information overload. My advice to prospective students is, very simply, to have critical questions in one’s mind—and to be ready to write and ask for the answers if they are not readily apparent. The critical questions for me are the following:
- What is the course really like? What subjects are covered in each year? What are the examination arrangements, and what are the consequences if you fail at the end of the first year? What are the dropout rates?
- Where is the university? Is it in a city centre or an out-of-town location?
- How good is the careers service? Is there a system of personal tutors—someone you can approach for advice? Is there a counselling service? Is there a campus medical practice?
- Do the courses offer “added value”? Does the university encourage study abroad? Is there opportunity to develop transferable skills, such as teamwork and communication?
- What isn’t the university saying (by comparison with what other universities’ websites and prospectuses are saying)? The one safe rule is if they don’t mention it, they don’t offer it. For example, no university that offers housing to all first-year students will omit that from the prospectus!
Applications to undergraduate programs in the UK are made through a central organisation, UCAS, rather than to individual universities, and a student may make up to five choices of programme. Each application is assessed by the universities to which one applies. When a university makes a decision on an application, it does not at that moment know where else the student has applied. One common outcome is a conditional offer—conditional, that is, on the results of the examinations still to be taken by the candidate. In the case of students in England and Wales, these are the GCE advanced-level examinations (“A levels”). Applications are of course welcome from candidates with other qualifications such as the IB. Candidates with United States high school qualifications should bear in mind that admission is to a particular programme. It is not a case of being admitted to the institution and then declaring a major at a subsequent date.
What will it cost?
I believe that campus housing in the first year is highly desirable. It relieves parents and prospective students of worry in advance, and it means that the student can get to know others—and often make lasting friendships—across the boundaries of subject of study, place of origin, faith, or political allegiance.
One matter that is of particularly keen interest to missionary families is that of fees. It is well known that, like universities in many other countries, universities in the UK charge differential fees. State universities in the United States, to give one analogy, tend to have separate tariffs for “in-state” and “out-of-state” students. In the case of the UK, the fees vary depending on whether the student is (a) from the United Kingdom itself or elsewhere in the European Union (EU) or (b) from a country outside the EU. The determinant is residence rather than nationality, and the key question is whether the student has been “ordinarily resident” in Britain for the three years before entry to the university. Simply being in the country for full-time education does not count as “ordinary.”
If a student has lived outside the United Kingdom for all or part of the three years before the start of the course, the university will want to see if there is a pattern of longerterm linkage to this country. A number of participants in the consultation spoke from their own families’ experience and reported that, in cases in which the parents were employed by a UK-based society and in which service abroad could clearly be seen as part of the requirements of that employment, students had been able successfully to claim “home status” for fee-paying purposes. There is much useful advice on the question of fee status, and on other relevant matters too, on the website of the UK Council for International Student Affairs.
Fees are only part of the equation. Students must also convince the appropriate local education authority (LEA: the education department of the local council). One useful test for a student wishing to apply for support or apply for a loan is to ask why the student has chosen a particular LEA. Is it, for example, the place where Jack’s widowed grandfather lives (who is the only member of the family now living in Britain and whom he has not seen since one visit 10 years ago), or is there some pattern of regular contact with the place?
Students who qualify for financial support can get a loan towards living costs (£6,315 for students in London and £4,510 for those elsewhere). There are maintenance grants of up to £2,765 a year to help those from households with lower incomes; the full grant is payable for an income of £17,910 or less and a reducing scale of payments up to an income of £38,330.
At the time of writing, the fees for UK undergraduate students are a maximum of £3,070 a year. Payment of loans both for tuition fees and for maintenance begins when the student’s earnings exceed £15,000 a year. Repayment is made at the rate of 9 percent of gross income over the £15,000 threshold; interest is charged equivalent to the rate of increase in the retail price index. Fees for international students vary a little from one university to another, but annual figures of £9,500 for nonlaboratory (“arts”) programmes, £12,150 for laboratory (“science”) ones, and £22,100 for the clinical years of medical and dental programmes may be taken as typical.
Estimates of the cost of living are always hazardous—Mr. or Ms. Average does not exist—but an admittedly random survey of three universities’ websites showed a range from £6,000 to over £8,000 for the academic session from September through June.
Where will I live?
I believe that campus housing in the first year is highly desirable. It relieves parents and prospective students of worry in advance, and it means that the student can get to know others—and often make lasting friendships— across the boundaries of subject of study, place of origin, faith, or political allegiance. There are, however, two questions that arise: Is the housing literally “on campus,” or is it “within walking distance”? If the latter, what sort of neighbourhood does one have to traverse—after a late lecture on a dark November afternoon—to get back to the residence?
After the first year, what arrangements are available to help students find accommodation for the following years? Is there a university office they can approach?
What about Jack and Jill?
What should Jack do? The first thing that strikes me is that he is not thinking beyond his degree course. He is clear about his immediate intentions, but he is limiting his horizons to his time as a student.
Sometimes it may be the case that a student is overworried about what will happen afterwards. Jack is, if anything, underworried! There is of course the point that a university degree course in Portuguese would provide him with a rude awakening; anyone who chooses a university course because he thinks that it is going to be easy is choosing the wrong course. I would suggest that he not go to the other extreme and abandon the language altogether. Rather, I would encourage him to see if there is a course that has Portuguese as a minor or a joint component—but I would want to stress to him that even that will prove something of a stretch.
What should Jill do? Unlike Jack, she is not spending enough time on herself. There are a number of issues she may have to contend with:
- Teenage idealism (She thinks she should become a doctor.)
- Teenage ambition (She really wants to become a doctor.)
- Parental pressure (Her parents want her to become a doctor.)
- Assumed parental pressure (She thinks they want her to become a doctor, and she does not want to disappoint them—but there has never been an honest and open discussion between her and her parents about her future life.)
- Faith (She is really convinced that she can best serve God as a doctor.)
- Fear (She cannot think of any way she can serve God except by being a doctor.)
The danger is that, if she embarks on a medical course and then discovers—at whatever stage and by whatever means—that this is not the life for her, or if she is not able to gain a place at medical school, she may become hobbled by a sense of failure that may (among other consequences) trigger a crisis of faith or even a loss of faith.
But then, of course, Jill may not be as complicated a person as I have suggested. She may have thought all these things through for herself. She may be a person with the aptitude for life as a medical practitioner who also has the blessed gift of an intellectually satisfying hobby that will enrich her life for years to come. She should at any event be asked the question of what path she would want to take if the one that first springs to mind is not open to her.
The vital thing for Jack and Jill—and for all MKs—is that they be encouraged to make up their own minds when they think about university. This is a pivotal moment in life. It is their future that is at stake.
Thinking About University Q2 2008