Student Life During Lockdown
Being a student right now feels like opening the exam paper and seeing that topic that you absolutely HATE on the first page. Yeah, that feeling...except it’s every day. It’s confusing and, at times, downright scary.
The weight of the world seems so much heavier when you’ve never lived away from home and, suddenly, you’re over one hundred miles away, with no idea when you can return- although it does somewhat pale in comparison to the distance some of my friends would have to travel if they wanted to return home. Not only have many students never even stepped foot onto the campuses they pay £9k (and for international students, upwards of £20k) to study on, but we’re exhausted from clutching at the last straws of motivation we have left to study for our degrees.
With absolutely zero work/social balance and, for those in halls, the confines of the same one room to sleep, study, eat, and relax in, it’s pretty dismal. On top of this, there’s the ever-looming prospect of self-isolation. I don’t think I’ve ever felt overwhelming dread so intensely as I did when seeing an email which told me to self-isolate. Of course, it’s important to uphold personal responsibility, but I’m not sure the people designing Uni halls ever expected someone to spend ten consecutive days in the same 9x12sqm room.
This is the part where I contradict everything I just said and tell you that it isn’t all doom and gloom. That no matter how much we feel that we’re drowning, and not waving, many of us have escaped the horrors of our hometown and can explore our new cities on the (currently) less-travelled roads.
I’m hoping that this serves as a reminder – although mostly to myself – to appreciate the people around. Disclaimer that I’ve not once felt ungrateful for my friends, but I’ve committed to being present in the love which everyone is willing to give so readily. I never expected that I’d be writing this when I first saw that self-isolation notice, but it really prompted me to revel in how supportive everyone around me truly is.
During the ten days where I successfully dodged the virus, ten days which – thankfully - I have almost no recollection of, my friends did everything from leaving homemade pizza or Berocca outside my door, to carrying up the food shopping which was steadily defrosting in reception. My girlfriend would leave a coffee outside the door every morning, although I think my kettle began to feel neglected. Despite being unable to be physically together with those around me, the sense of love was so tangible.
People always say, “I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being a university student right now.” And it’s true that we’re not having the usual Uni experience of turning up hungover to 9am lectures – not that we’re turning up to any in-person lectures, for that matter – but I think people have bonded together in first term, in a way they probably wouldn’t otherwise. We’re all in this rickety, unsafe boat, steadily watching it fall apart but everyone around is willing to give you a life jacket. I think the uncertainty surrounding student life has left us all completely committed to providing each other with some semblance of stability. Every conversation with my friends revolves around how we’re really doing and what the other can do to help, even if it’s just a cup of coffee in the park or a PowerPoint night. Sometimes they’re even willing to give you a hug if you’re found crying in the courtyard; this really isn’t a personal anecdote, although I almost wish that it was. People are so committed to looking out for one another.
As a Welsh student in London, there’s a palpable sense of distance. In Wales, we call this ‘hiraeth’; it’s an idiom but is often translated to something along the following lines - a yearning or homesickness for a place you can’t return to. And whilst this experience certainly isn’t how I envisaged Uni, it’s really forced me to be independent in a way I’d convinced myself that I already was. Not that crippling self-sufficiency ever helped a woman navigate moving away from home – trust me, I’m an expert when it comes to refusing help and I’m not proud – but knowing that I can’t succumb to the stereotype of lugging my dirty clothes home for my poor parents to wash does somewhat force you to “adult”…whatever that means. Thankfully, I have supportive friends I can nag instead!
But in all seriousness, Uni students are going through it right now. People are isolated, they’re lonely. Online learning is a tedious game of hide-and-seek where no one turns on their camera and Oscars will be in short supply after all the practice people have had lying each time they’re asked a question they can’t answer (we know you’re Google translating the answer….) We’re trying our best; FaceTiming, socially distanced walks to make friends and to coerce those we’re concerned about out into all of the nature which London boasts.
I think it’s wrong to romanticise this pandemic and to argue for all of the “positive change” it’s brought about but I do think it’s brought out the best in some people. Lockdown numbers one, two, and three seem to have facilitated a real sense of community within students – enough that we don’t need a fourth, I promise! It is far, FAR from ideal, but there’s an understanding of mutual discontent that’s created a deeper connection among those of us who met for the first time in September 2020. We may not have been to a club, but we sure have perfected our walking routes through the nicest paths!
Written by Emily Taylor-Davies
Emily is an English and French undergrad at King's College London and works part-time as French Language ambassador. When she isn't staring into the abyss of Microsoft Teams, Emily loves reading about Art History, fangirling over Virginia Woolf, and discovering cool new coffee shops.