From the moment we are born, life seems planned out for us. School, college, University, career, marriage, babies, retirement, death. That is the plan society lies out for us and we are told we must not waiver.
But what happens if you want to jump off the conveyer belt? What happens if you have a crisis of faith and you want to change direction? Where do those of us that refuse to conform with this structure fit in?
“An alarm went off in my head: “Is this it? Is this what you want to do?””
From the age of 16, I had it all planned. I wanted to work in the arts sector. I spent every minute building myself as an artist; attending courses, reading books, seeing plays and shadowing creators. I was certain this was my goal. That was until I hit 27, and an alarm went off in my head: “Is this it? Is this what you want to do?” The answer was no.
So, I jumped off the conveyer belt, turned my back on all the contacts, training and money and landed in a retail job. But again, the conveyor started to speed up. I found myself lured in to the idea of management and higher pay cheques. But I never wanted to work in retail and I didn’t care enough about money to ever reach higher management positions. So again, I jumped. This time into University.
Amongst a sea of 18-year olds, I am closer in age to my lecturers. I am the only class member that was alive during dial up, and the only student who is married. “You’re married?”, my classmates exclaim. I hang my head in shame when they talk about popular vloggers and YouTubers, and I feel their eyes glaze over when I start talking about 90s politics and Britpop.
But amongst the puzzled looks and out of date references, I am glad I came to University later in life. I am seeing this opportunity as a chance to network, get my name in people’s heads and squeeze the knowledge out of my lecturers. However, society seems to think otherwise:
Me: “Must go, I’ve got a lecture”,
Them: “Oh really, what do you teach?”
Me: “Oh no, I’m a student”
Them: “Ah, yes I always wanted to do a Masters.”
Me: “No, I’m in my first year.”
Them: “Oh.”
This is a common misconception, and even though it doesn’t come from a malicious place, it redefines the idea that I should have it all together. By the age of 30, women especially, are expected to have done all their learning, and should be settling down with babies. We’re not meant to still be figuring things out at this age. This is one of the things I struggle with most as a mature student.
Attending university later in life also creates financial strain. Thankfully, I am eligible for a student loan, but there is pressure on my husband to cover most of the bills. We are fortunate that, along with my part-time work, this is enough. I know other mature students who work so hard at university and also have to hold down demanding jobs. The adult side of life doesn’t fade when you become a student. Those responsibilities become a constant juggle and you want to give everyone your best.
“The people I have met and the experiences I have gathered make me a dedicated and unique student, with plenty of stories to tell.”
The best thing about attending university at 30? I know it’s what I want. When I was 18, I was following a pattern, and more susceptible to other people’s plans for me. But now, at 32, I know this is my path. All of the work I did before I returned to studying is invaluable. The people I have met and the experiences I have gathered make me a dedicated and unique student, with plenty of stories to tell.
So, I will tolerate the rolling eyes and the youthful references, because I know this is where I am meant to be. I would encourage anyone who is curious to leap off the conveyor. To quote my iconic father; “It’s ok to change your mind, it proves you’ve got one.”
Molly-Rose Crossley
Featured image courtesy of Dom Fou via Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes have been made to this image.