In March of last year, my daughter made the decision to decline an offer from Oxford University and attend the University of Leeds for her degree in History of Art, which will commence at the end of this September. It was not an easy choice for Rose, as it involved months of research, consultations and even brief stays in both cities. At the end of it all, she ultimately opted to follow her instincts and choose Leeds instead of Oxford, knowing that the decision may have caused regrets either way.
Unfortunately, Rose’s decision prompted dismay and even outrage from people beyond her immediate circle of family and close friends. The responses ranged from phrases like, "Oh no, what about the networking and lifelong contacts?" or even worse, "As her mother, shouldn’t you have a say in this?" However, there were some exceptions, including one eminent art critic who said that Leeds offered the better course compared to Cambridge.
Most of the comments were centred on status. People frequently informed me that my daughter was depriving herself the chance to enter the employment market at a higher salary compared to those who were not Oxbridge graduates. Education is an obsession in the UK and is intrinsically linked to power and social class. And in the UK, Oxbridge is viewed as the ultimate goal, giving people unparalleled access and a smooth path to a fabulous career.
Our devotion to these ideas is so deeply ingrained that when someone dares to say "no, thank you,” it touches a nerve deep in our national psyche.
As I considered the pros and cons of Rose’s decision, I tried not to let my own conviction cloud the situation. I had long wished for my daughter to attend Oxford, and her head of English even mentioned at our final parent-teacher meeting, "If not Rose, who?"
But my own childhood experiences- growing up with parents in a legal fight over my brother’s education- played a significant role in my opinions. My father wanted my brother to attend boarding prep school and Eton, while my mother insisted on local schools. As a result, I stopped working from the age of 14 as my education took a backseat. In spite of that, I managed to pass some A-Levels and earn a degree. But my underachievement followed me for a long time. I wanted my daughter to know that she was valued, and I believed that if she went to Oxford, she would be the first state-educated woman in her paternal family to earn a degree from there.
At the open day, Rose enjoyed the tours and talks of Oxford. I could easily picture her living in those beautiful dorm rooms, eating three meals a day at the Harry Potter-like dining hall, and thriving under the tutorial system. She agreed, having enjoyed her visit more than she had expected and applied for the course. But I knew she was hesitant.
Rose grew up in Hackney, and the aura of white privilege surrounding Oxford did not appeal to her. Also, the lack of a viable music scene and her realization that London is where it’s at when it comes to that didn’t help. A friend of mine with a First from Christchurch stated otherwise, but Rose wanted something different. She desired a new city with a vibrant culture of its own, students from different places, a home with eight roommates, cooking on a tight budget, cheap beer, and a part-time job. According to Rose, the typical British university experience was one of the few items the country was good at, and Oxford didn’t quite embody that for her.
In the end, she chose Leeds because of the course. Taught at Leeds University’s School of Fine Art, along with cultural theorists and practicing artists, its specialisms in feminist and postcolonial histories were precisely what Rose wanted. Given the UK’s mental health crisis among children and adolescents and its alarming rates of student suicide, it’s a smart decision to prioritize happiness over accolades. The prestige of Oxbridge has lost its appeal.
Rose is an alias, and it’s not the name assigned at birth.
