Katy Hamilton

It occurred to me earlier this week, as I reminisced about the very first group of undergraduates I ever taught, that I delivered my first lecture a decade ago this spring. Back then, I was a Masters student, offered the opportunity to take over a first year BA module for five weeks to dash through music from 1820-1900. Ten years later, I’m now teaching a third year BA module on the nineteenth century which lasts all year. I’m older, possibly wiser, and certainly far less terrified than I was as I stood in that lecture theatre in 2005, with shaking hands and a folder full of OHP acetates.

But some things have not changed. What drew me to teaching then is just as strong and vital now. The excitement of a subject, of communicating fascinating things to people willing to listen, and attempting to stimulate debate and further study – I can’t think of many things more rewarding than that. And being a teacher of any description also means learning a huge amount yourself: it is one thing to understand a subject well enough to write an article on it, but quite another to get inside it enough to explain it to others.

The internet abounds with commentaries from each side of the student/tutor divide, from Rate My Professors to When in Academia. Some are respectful, some rather less so. Recently I found and enjoyed a list, written by a tutor for their students, entitled ‘Ten Things you probably don’t know about your University Lecturers’. After recalling my various teaching experiences, I’d like to write my own little note to (music/humanities) students. Some of it is said with reasonable frequency, and some of it cannot be said often enough.

Dear scholar,

Welcome to the most exciting, challenging, enlightening, adventurous years of your life so far. This is where you get to learn, talk, argue, drink too much, make new friends, party all night, develop basic cooking skills and consider what the future might hold for you. It’s going to be fun, and hard, and – I hope – rewarding for you. So as someone who’s been there, albeit a little while ago, and watched some other people go through it too, here are a few thoughts.

You’ve made it to university age, which means you’re an adult. That doesn’t mean you have to iron your socks, eat broccoli twice a day and be in bed by ten. But it does mean that you’re responsible for yourself (and, with your friends, responsible for each other). If you don’t show up for classes, or fail your assignment, I’m not going to wag my finger and tell you how disappointed I am in you. It’s your decision to not show up, and you need to understand that and accept the consequences of missing the session. It’s your lack of focus or attention to detail that meant you failed the assignment. If you’ve got a reason for not being in class, if you’re finding it hard or struggling with essays, just tell me. I don’t bite. I’m not out to mock you. I’m here because I care, about the subject and about you. Ask me. Talk to me. If I can give you help I will, and that’s a promise.

I know there are a lot of people who find speaking up in class a pretty intimidating prospect. I’ll do everything I can to make sure that everyone has an equal opportunity to participate. But you need to help me, too. That question you’re not asking, because you think it’s stupid? You should totally ask it. If you ask it, I can help you. And I can almost guarantee that at least a third of your classmates won’t know the answer either. Let’s get it right together in class, when I can help, rather than panic and struggle on your own when the assignment comes around. There are almost no questions I’ve ever been asked under the pretext of being ‘stupid’ that are actually stupid at all.

I addressed you as a scholar when I opened this letter, and I meant it. Scholarship is a label we should wear with pride, because it has an important double meaning. To modern society, it means someone who is a specialist in their chosen branch of study, and that’s what you’re here to become, either to undergraduate or postgraduate level. But originally, it meant simply ‘student’, or even ‘school child’. We are all learning all the time. That includes me, as well as you. Scholarship is an opportunity to celebrate the importance, excitement and rewards of that learning. And universities and colleges can provide you with an environment not just to learn about your subject of choice, but also learn all kinds of other things, and have a huge range of experiences, from speaking a new language or becoming a union representative, to playing a violin concerto or designing an exhibition. It’s there for the taking, so never be afraid to have a go.

You’ll probably have seen a great deal in the press about universities and money: funding for research, budget cuts, and of course the tremendous increases of the last few years in the cost of your tuition. Some of your school friends may have been unable, or unwilling, to put themselves into a precarious financial situation to come to university. Now that you’re here, I’m not surprised that you want to feel that such a significant investment is worth your while. But here’s the big secret: what makes it a major investment is you. You don’t buy a ticket to a theme park and then complain you’re not having your fee’s worth of fun before you’ve tried the rides and eaten the candyfloss. So remember that your fees are buying you tuition, resources (library books, online material, teaching rooms, study centres, practice instruments, a studio…) and opportunities. Make the most of all of them. If you struggle, call out and we’ll help you if we can.

Last but not least, it may surprise you to learn that, however many years pass, and however your life has panned out, we will still remember you, and still be interested in how you’re doing. Did a music degree and ended up working in pension investment? Doesn’t matter. Flunked the finals? Still don’t care. You were here once, and talked to us about the thing that we love, in a subject that we shared, if only for a few months or years. We do this job because it’s important to us, and we enjoy it… because of our students.

So: enjoy your time here. Make the most of it. Ask, debate, explore. Make new friends and try new things. And call if you need us. Not because we’re your substitute parents, and you want someone to do it all for you. But because you’re independent adults at the start of an amazing adventure; and with a little mutual respect, we can help you take the first steps down that road. Even if you don’t know, quite yet, where it will lead you. We didn’t know either. But we’re glad we got here.