A degree worth fighting for?

I guess the question I should really ask is ‘Is a degree worth fighting for?’

A few days a go I would have said yes. Despite a very difficult and challenging first year of my BA Journalism course, I was really looking forward to getting back into my routine of study. In less than two years I could have a degree to my name. A chance for better job prospects, better understanding of Journalism in general and hopefully some fulfilling student experiences (I won’t hold my breath! Question- Why, Why, why aren’t there any other mature students besides myself and Taryn on this course? Ugh! Answer- Because they don’t beat about the bush la-di-da-dling around until mid 20’s before they think ‘shit! What what am I gonna do with my life?!!’)

I went in to enrol feeling quite nervous. I hadn’t received an email from the university about enrolment so in the back of my mind I’m thinking I was such a bad student they don’t want me back! But of course that’s me being pessimistic (nothing new there). Positive thinking doesn’t come naturally to me unless it has anything to do with finding a cheap flight ticket.

During the enrolment process I was asked at least twice if I was repeating the year. Why would I want to do that??! I was finally relieved when I was told that I was enrolled and that was it. Phew. But still. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I see my name on the list of 2nd years.

I cycled into uni on thursday for our briefing. Funny but most faces looked new to me but they seemed to know the familiar faces from last year. Maybe I didn’t pay that much attention to the people around me. My peers. 18, 19, 20 year olds who write silly things on the facebook BAJ1 group such as declaring their love for certain lecturers… Hmmm each to their own I suppose.

I took note of the briefing-mentally. I did curse myself for forgetting to bring a pen (some journalist you are!) however I later found the pen tucked deep in my bag as I was so sure I threw one in. Then I waited patiently for my name to be called as out tutor called the register… Shit! They buggers didn’t enrol me! Hold your horses!

My name was called. I responded with a casual ‘yes’ but in my head it was an enthusiastic ‘YES! I’m here and I won’t let you down!! I’m gonna work haaard this year.’ I caught up with Taryn, my closest peer, and opened up to her about my fears of not being put on the course. Silly me. Always being so negative.

Well, I get home and  get a call from the university. The lady that enrolled me said there’s been a mistake and I should be repeating 1st year…


I don’t know if I have the energy to fight. Maybe this isn’t for me. Maybe I should just book a ticket to Brazil and teach english. Maybe I don’t need a piece of paper to define my intellect. Maybe I’m just not cut out of this. Maybe. Maybe I’ll know tomorrow. Monday I go in and fight my case.

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