The ungraceful jump into second year

Second year, for some, is a great year. You aren’t quite an eager fresher with 25 club bands still up your arm, but you also aren’t a third year with responsibilities and a dissertation on your hands.

You have a great group of friends and no longer feel that homesick.

Second year, for some, is an awful year. Your workload makes you feel like you can’t breathe, and this photo (for me) sums up my experience as a second year:


Second year is one of those years where if you had awful timetabling (like me) you are very literally struggling to hold yourself together. Sometimes, even if you have great timetabling, you realize the full extent of your workload, and it is literally a slap in the face.

I mean, time management really isn’t your friend in second year, because you’ve spent the last 8 months wasting your loan on doner kebabs and jaegerbombs, and as much as you can read this and deny it…. You are fooling no-one. You did it. It tasted good.

There is no other word that I can describe second year to be other than ungraceful. The jump from first-year-fun to second-year-seriousness is ungraceful, like falling down the stairs at a club and hoping no-one notices.

You can’t even complain about the workload, because all your third year friends will roll their eyes and tell you ‘wait until you do a dissertation’.

Strangely, I thought that third year was a lot more graceful than my second, I can’t possibly be the only person that felt like this?

I suppose it depends on the course, and how much you tested your liver in your first year of uni. Of course this is all in jest, second year isn’t the be-all-and-end-all, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you need to prepare yourself for actually doing some work, taking books out of the library and maybe not being as reckless as you were in your first year.

I hope your experience is better than mine!



Claire Stapley


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