That’s it, the university journey is over.
The three years of boozing, late-night Red Bulls to accompany impending deadlines and sordid student digs have come to an unwelcome halt.
Quite unexpectedly it was the best three years of my life to date. And not even because of the extra-curricular goings on.
Before university, education and I were far from bosom buddies. School was an uphill slog of detentions, a ridiculous attitude towards authority and a general apathy at what the English education system had to offer.
College was no better. My attendance was worse than that of Pete Doherty at his gigs. I was almost slung out on more than one occasion and if it wasn’t for the fact that I still somehow managed to achieve good grades, my university years may never had happened.
At odds with education, I moved out of home and decided to work full-time, supplementing my tedious bank job with writing for music zines. It was then that I decided to give academia one final chance.
And I’m so grateful to myself that I did.
The journalism course at Kingston University is everything it sold itself to be and more. The teachers actually give a shit about you personally and always have time to offer solid advice on your work, despite the fact that it sometimes leaves them without a lunchbreak. They are amazing mentors and I’m sure we’ll still all keep in touch with them long beyond the summer.
The syllabus is diverse and challenging and I actually enjoyed attending and particpating in lessons (With magazine journalism, the newspaper sector today, ethics, law and writing the news being among my particular favourite modules). If any past teachers are reading this, they will probably be stifling their laughter at the moment or wondering whether they stumbled on the wrong Lara O’Reilly’s blog.
Obviously, the highlight had to be working on the Uni newspaper, The River. There’s a few clippings here as unfortunately we did not converge too much with the online version. I doubt there is a more professional standard of university newspaper in the UK and I think it would be a swizz if we don’t come away with something at the Guardian Student Media Awards. The work ethic was outstanding and there was probably more of a constant buzz of activity at press nights in our newsroom than those of some national newspapers.
For once I actually thrived as a student. My own mother burst out in hysterical laughter when I told her I had won “undergraduate student of the year” at this year’s journalism “Oscars”. I think I’ve come a long way since those college days.
Our graduation boat party on Thursday was a mixture of jubilation (Some of the pictures are hilarious) and almost a sense of loss. I’m sure I’ll be returning to Kingston many times over the next few years, but it’ll be very odd not walking those three flights of stairs and finding lots of people busily working away in the newsroom (No matter what day) ever again.
So what now?
While I have a couple of job offers on the horizon, it’s become very clear that more education is in order. A job that I wanted and had every chance of getting (And I was told the feeling was mutual from the employer) was put out of my reach because of the lack of four lucrative letters after my name. So, providing someone amazing doesn’t tap me up in the meantime (National newspaper, rich husband, Arsene Wenger…), the NCTJ course will be the next step.
Here’s hoping my six months there can be as fulfilling as my time as Kingston. I’m going to miss that university an awful lot.
Murder on the Kingston Express
8 MarClapham J on another dull day (Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)
I’ve come to love my journey in to university every day from Clapham.
Armed with a cuppa and piece of fruit (Or a Lucozade and a Greggs depending on how bad the hangover is), I can catch up on the reading I’ve missed or stare outside the train window at suburban Surrey, wistfully readying myself for the day.
Unless I’m travelling in for a 9am lecture.
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