7 minute read
If you didn’t know, I’m 22 years old, born in May 1996. People at uni are always surprised to here my age, and I get why. Most of them are the same age as my brother (19) or even a year younger. And here I am, all grown up. Well, on paper, anyway. I don’t really mind being older, but I still talk to people now and again who go “WHAT? YOU’RE 22?? How come?” Here’s how.
By some calculation, I’m sure you could figure out that I had two gap years before going to uni. Or by just reading the title. Either way, I did have two gap years. When I finished ‘Videregående’ (the Norwegian equivalent to A-levels), I was sick of school. There was not a fibre in my body that wished to go to university, and in all honesty, I was doubting if I ever would. Not that I knew what I would be doing instead, but university just seemed like a drag, and pretty close to hell. Not to mention I was lacking a subject for my diploma (so I guess I hadn’t even completed Videregående), so even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have.
In Scandinavia we have something called Folk High Schools. According to folkehøgskole.no this is how you’d define one ”Folk high schools (folkehøgskole) are often called the world’s freest schools. These schools have no grades, no rigid curriculum and no exams. We happen to believe that you learn better without this kind of pressure.” So basically, you pay a lot of money, you live there, you eat there, you laugh there, you cry there, and you do something you thoroughly enjoy. It is often said that it’s the best year of your life. I wouldn’t really say that was the case with me, but I still had a heck of a time. I went to Ringerike Folkehøgskole, I did musical theatre for a year, and got to portray Marie in the Aristocats and Ethel, and many other small roles, in Thoroughly Modern Millie. I also learned how to dance (this could be argued), how to light up a stage, and how to build scenography. I also met a couple of very good friends there, like my room mate Marthe, and I got to live in Hønefoss, a place far, far away from Narvik, my hometown, but still in Norway. I had fun, and I think I really needed it.
One evening, Marthe and I were sat on our individual beds, complaining that we had to think about what we wanted to do the following school year. I’d been certain for many years that I wanted to study in London, and I had a look at different subjects. Prior I had thought I would go onto study biology, because I love biology, but I couldn’t really see myself actually working within the field. I stumbled across a journalism course on the website of some university, and I thought to myself, hm, maybe journalism is the way to go. But, ya girl still didn’t feel ready to go to university. And I still didn’t have that one subject that was missing from my diploma, so again, even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have.
Once my year at Ringerike Folkehøgskole was over and I, and 100+ other students had bawled our eyes out because we were leaving, I was going home. I had decided that I would move back home and work for a year. I worked in the home for disabled people I had worked in since I was 18 (still work there to this day), I did some work at a primary school too, as well as working in a book shop. That autumn I also picked up the subject I was missing to get my diploma, and I finally did it, and I was finally finished with Videregående once and for all. I was so relieved. My grades weren’t to bad either.
Originally I had a plan that I would move to London and work in January, but I backed out. It didn’t feel right. I was more nervous than excited, and to me that wasn’t a very good sign. But, during this time, I had already begun my application for university in September 2017. I applied for journalism at five different London universities, with the help of the God sent organization Across the Pond. And I got in. To all five. I accepted the offer from City University. I was going to uni.
But back to my ongoing gap year. Because I hadn’t gone to London in January, I was still at home working, now only woking in the home and the bookshop. I really enjoyed working, but I did it a lot, and I had this feeling that I had to do something. So I decided I would go traveling. Through Europe by train using an InterRail ticket. On my own. For this, I was more excited than nervous, and rightfully so. It was the best. I did get a bit tired towards the end, but still, it was exactly what I needed. At the end of my one month journey, I ended up in Margate, staying with my dear host parents for a couple of days. Then I went to America for three weeks with my dad, to visit my brother on his exchange year. I was gone for almost two months, and I came back much happier than when I left. My own little, happy adventure made me much more fit to work throughout the summer.
So, back to what this blog post was actually meant to be about – getting back to school after two years out. Granted, I did have that one subject I picked up, but one subject is hardly the same as studying full time. I was nervous and excited when I moved to London, and I couldn’t really believe it was happening after spending four years dreaming about it.
I remember my first proper class, after the induction week, and our teacher told us that within the next five weeks, we would have made a podcast. I sat there thinking, sounds fake, but ok, go on. But we did. Five weeks later, and our travel podcast was complete. Six weeks after that I had learned the basics of making live TV. I had also written my very first feature, on black women in the acting industry. Not only had I written it, I was also proud of it, and my teacher seemed to agree that it was well written. My first essay had also not been badly received. I was at uni, and I was doing quite okay.
But of course, it wasn’t all magnificent. It was quite hard. I’m sure you’re aware that studying is soooo different from just being expected to show up on time and work for 4 – 10 hours, and then you can go home and you don’t need to worry about anything else. I was expected to do work outside of uni, I had to learn how to prioritize my time better, I had to learn how to revise again. I wasn’t super successful in this pursuit. I could’ve done a lot more, prioritized better, not gotten so darn good at multiple iPhone games and The Sims 4. I think all of this would’ve been a lot easier if I had been straight out of school. Still, I would never trade my gap years for anything. I learned, I grew as a person, I aged, I became more confident, I made new friends and strengthened the friendships I already had. My gap years made me happier.
For me, my gap years were vital. For some, who know exactly what they want to do, they probably wouldn’t be. I have a friend, for instance, who I’ve known since we were like 12, and she has always said she wants to study medicine. That’s what she did. She went straight from school, with top grades across the board, and that’s so fantastic. If you know where you’re heading and you’re ready, good for you! You go do that. But if you don’t that’s okay too. Allow yourself to have a gap year, or two, or three, just to breath and think. Remember that life isn’t a race. I am so appreciative of my gap years. They helped me grow, and I am a much better and stronger person than I was three years ago when I finished Videregående. I’m happy that I gained the experience I did throughout those two years, and I believe it will make me a better journalist. They have already made me a better person.
me. 