Don't let your results define you!

This week is A-level results week in the UK. I only have 2 GCSEs; no A-levels. However, I was still able to study at Oxford & Cambridge.

The light condensation of fear spread across my forehead. My hands shook as they clutched the envelope. They were next. I had been told for years that the collection of letters printed inside would set the direction of my life forever. Five C's were all I needed to move from the Isle of Man to the UK. Five C’s to set me free. To cross the sea and flee a life I didn’t choose. Flee a life I didn’t want. Flee and start a new life with some prospects. Any other combination would keep me treading through the molasses of the care system and probably soon the prison system. My fingers gripped the back of the envelope ready for me to rip. By now, the fear was dampening the paper inside. A huge roar rumbled through the envelope as I tore it open. I needed five C’s. I only got two. Too few for me to flee.

This was my results day. GCSE results day. I didn’t have the grades to progress to A-levels. The fact is, for all the hard work, all the effort, all the commitment, dedication, and determination, it was never going to be enough, as I was expected to squeeze three years of learning into one at the same pace as those who had already completed the other two years. This is usual for people from my background. People who have grown up in the care system. People who have grown up in children’s homes. Research has shown that we tend to do six times worse than those from foster care and kinship care.

However, I still went on to study at three prestigious UK universities: The Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts (LIPA), the University of Cambridge, and then the University of Oxford.

Don’t let your results define you. There is always more than one path. You don’t have to be shoehorned into something else because you didn’t reach an arbitrary score to do something you are passionate about. Time is your friend. Time creates experience. Experience is worth more than any grade from your childhood.

The truth is, after age 21, professional experience will make up for any lack of academic skills from childhood. This was the path I used. I was 24 when I finally plucked up the courage to apply for university. During my admissions phone call with a tutor at LIPA, he said, “If you applied at 18, we wouldn’t have been able to let you in as you just don’t have the grades. However, because you have demonstrated excellence in recording over several years, we can take this into account.”

The UK has a family bias. Families are expected to ease the burden of a failing economy. If a young person wants to progress, the state, maybe rightly so, expects families to bankroll them for as long as it takes. What happens when the state is the parent? Well, it then decides that support is finite. It took me till 24 to catch up to an 18-year-old. However, if I had waited an extra year, I would no longer be eligible for funding. Care Experience is a blanket term for anyone who has been in the care of a local authority at some point in their childhood. The problem with blankets is that they cover failures. They ignore the colossal barriers people from children’s homes have to overcome.

By the time I graduated from LIPA, I wasn’t sure if I could create a sustainable recording career. Like many creative industries, the recording world is inaccessible if you don’t have the support of a family. In the recording industry, there is an expectation that your family will subsidise your early career, as you work for no (or, if you are lucky, very little) pay. Having been in the care system, I had no family support and no real fallback options. I knew I had to make my backup plan. This is where I thought about writing and thought about Oxford.

The number of care leavers entering the top universities each year often floats in double figures – somewhere in the 0.03% of the intakes.  When I floated the idea to people around me, they told me it was crazy and impossible. This was one step too far with my magical thinking.

So I studied the course website, watched a tonne of YouTube videos by the tutors, and understood what they were looking for. I had to demonstrate a high passion for writing. This was my dilemma. How could someone who had dedicated their entire adult life to music suddenly show a track record of commitment to creative writing?

I took some short courses in creative writing at Oxford University. I then discovered a qualification called an Undergraduate Diploma. This is a half-degree. Both the Uni of Oxford and the Uni of Cambridge did them. I applied for both and got into Cambridge. From there, I studied hard. Of course, I could submit to a writing competition with one of the pieces, and it won a prize. Sure, I now had enough to do a master's at Oxford, so I applied. I didn’t even get an interview. I realised it all came down to the CV, Personal statement, and Portfolio. Getting these three as strong as possible would be my ticket. I spent the next year doing that.

During my admission interview, I was asked, ‘Why Oxford?’. This is a question loaded with elitist bias because, to someone from my background, why not Oxford? It’s a passport to a better life, to access better opportunities, and to break free from the societal straight jacket that has restricted me. Because the grim reality is that as a careleaver, I had more chances of being interviewed by the police than by them. Once I got to Oxford, I discovered that more people lived in space than care leavers studying at this university.  

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