If the UK government wants to marketise tertiary education, I think we'll
have to come to our senses quick and show him:
"we don't need no marketised education"
The Guardian held a contest to ask young minds for a way around this
seemingly draconian class-separation machine called the university.
the winner:
Pay-as-you-go lectures would give us real choice
Turn us into consumers if you must, but at least give us the right to decide what we pay for, says winning student blogger
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A lesson on hysteria by Jean Martin
These guys got their money's worth: a lecture on hysteria by Jean Martin Charcot (1825-93), complete with hypnotised patient. Photograph: Imagno/Getty Images
Education Guardian teamed up with Ones to Watch, the website that showcases the best UK student journalism, to launch a writing competition. We asked:
"With fees tripling to £9,000 a year at most universities, is it inevitable that the student will become a consumer?"
Here's our winner, Luke Braidwood.
"It's 9.45. I'm mildly hungover and relying on a strong black coffee to stay awake. The dulcet tones of a greying, portly biochemistry professor rumble around a gloomy lecture hall, which is clad in oak and filled with plastic chairs.
"We're learning about the organisation of the plant metabolic network, which is only about half as much fun as it sounds. After the summary, which seems strangely unfamiliar, we rummage around in our pockets, pull out £30, and place it on the front desk in a heap of crumpled notes and loose change. Sam asks me to lend him some cash; he's forgotten his wallet for the third time this month.
"The professor pulls out a hessian sack and sweeps the money (about £1,800) into it, then walks outside whistling.
"I have 10 lectures a week, some of them obtuse or incomprehensible, and place £300 weekly on front desks of lecture halls. There are 30 teaching weeks in a year, so I'm paying around £9,000 for all my lectures. I think about this as I look for a paracetamol in my bag, and wonder if I'm getting my money's worth."
Joe, the protagonist of this tale, lives in a slightly different world, where roughly £9,000 tuition fees are payable on a pay-as-you-go system. It's like Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep with education instead of appliances. Joe can choose to stop attending the lectures on plant metabolism he finds so dreary, and save money on this module. Perhaps he will spend some of it on a plant metabolism textbook to help him in the exams.
Joe is a consumer: he pays only for what he wants. That way, the university receives detailed feedback on which topics and lecturers the student body values most. In our world, students must pay the full fee at the start of each year, and are expected turn up to the lectures, laboratory work and classes that the university provides.
With fees tripling, it is inevitable that students – other than those born to very wealthy families – will be thinking harder about whether to go to university and what to study. We've watched banks go down, and drag countries down, because of excessive borrowing, so mountainous debt isn't appealing to anyone.
Making young people think harder about the value of their degree may not be a bad thing. But the value of a degree is simply the perception of that degree by prospective employers. And their perception will have little to do with how well it was taught.
If Oxford stopped giving lectures tomorrow (and the media didn't notice), it would take many years for employers to realise the increased ineptitude of Oxford graduates, and start discriminating accordingly. In contrast, even the most dynamic, useful and thrilling degree may be undersubscribed if it's being offered by the new kid on the block – because employers don't demand it.
The biggest problem with the fee rise is that it turns students into consumers who lack real choice. They can only pick between degrees, not within them. It's a system that which robs students of the opportunity to pay only for what benefits them most, and universities of the chance to learn how best to teach their students.
