The phrases “I don’t know yet” and “I’m still figuring it out” seem to have left my mouth more times in the past two months than ever before. After years of following the seemingly linear pattern of aiming, first, for good GCSEs, then strong A-levels and finally striving to get into one of the best universities in the world, it feels almost wrong to be leaving this all behind without a clue as to what I want to do next. And yet for me, and undoubtedly countless others, this is very much the reality as our final year begins to draw to an all too rapid close.
As an undergraduate historian, the possibilities of pursuing a panic masters, undertaking a law conversion or becoming a history teacher have recently all flitted in and out of my mind as potential last-minute saviour avenues for the next year and beyond. Almost comically, these three options are ones that I have adamantly rejected when suggested to me by interested family and friends in the past. With fresher me convinced that I would conveniently stumble upon the perfect job during the course of my degree, I realise now that I’ve spent the past two and a bit years accumulating a long list of jobs I don’t want to do, without giving much thought to ones I actually could see myself doing.
After a recent 20 minute video call with the Oxford University Careers Service, I felt even more defeated and confused than before. The call was helpful, the staff highly knowledgeable, but my lack of a specific vocational passion and my inherent indecisiveness became yet more starkly apparent as the conversation progressed. The options of taking some time out, sampling a range of jobs through internships and leaning on the experiences of family and friends all seemed useful pieces of advice. They did not however quell my underlying fear that maybe I just lack the ambition that has seemingly come easily to so many of my peers. What if I’m just one of those people who never finds a job they love? What if I spend my 9-5 weekdays just waiting for the blissful release of Saturdays and Sundays? What if, what if, what if?
The uncertainty of the current job market makes this step forward that much harder. Having (naively) believed that the experience of receiving often ruthless feedback on my weekly essays over the past two years had made me somewhat accustomed to criticism, I began applying for jobs thinking that no matter the outcome, I could take it. However, I think I’m starting to realise that no matter how many times you hear the words “at this time, we will not be progressing your application” and “on this occasion you have not been successful” (both phrases taken verbatim from two recent rejection letters I have received), they are always going to sting. Having to tell your friends that you didn’t get that job you have been talking about at dinner all week and that you are, once again, back at square one with no clue where to go next is starting to feel like a rather frequent – and highly unwelcome – occurrence in my life.
And so I sit here, all the while trying to convince myself that it will be ok, that I’m going to have a degree from Oxford at the end of the day and that surely that has to count for something. And the more I think about it all, about the future and just how uncertain it is, the more I realise that it really is all okay. Or at least, it certainly will be. I expect the experience I have described above is not actually that uncommon, despite it currently feeling like everyone around me has the perfect 5, if not 10, year plans. So, if you relate to this even a little, just remember that most of us, when we graduate, will only be 21 or 22 years old. And although we might feel wiser and more mature than the bright-eyed fresher versions of ourselves who first started at this slightly insane institution two years ago, we truly do have huge expanses of time stretching out before us. Time during which it is normal to experiment, to fail, to quit and to start all over again. The luxuries of our youth are not yet over simply because our time at university soon will be. As we begin to leave Oxford behind, let us do so with excitement. Let us relish in the uncertainties of tomorrow, reassured by the knowledge that where there is ambiguity, there is also nearly always opportunity for something great, even if that ‘something’ currently remains unknown.