Ten years ago, almost to the day, I accepted my place at Dundee University.
And the five years I spent studying there indisputably changed my life for the better.
So seeing the place go down the pan the way it has in the last year has been a tough watch.
And this week, when Dundee University announced it was scrapping its food pantry and free breakfast programme, set up to aid the poorest students through the cost of living crisis, something in me snapped.
So much of the pride I’ve held for my university has curdled to shame.
This is not the same place I arrived at in 2015.
Allow me take you back, to a time when £300 could pay your rent for a month (ha!) and meal deals were £3 tops.
After a two-year stint at an ancient prestige uni straight out of school, I’d realised that rat race wasn’t for me.
The whole academic ‘sink or swim’ thing is definitely effective among the privileged, but I was tired of battling the current just to prove I ought to be there.
After visiting Dundee, I could tell that this was a university which valued its students and staff community above all else.
And not just from the glut of student satisfaction recognitions it was receiving by then.
Dundee University had ‘supportive’ ethos
Small things signalled big difference in the culture here.
Things like Dundee’s vibrant student union with a seemingly endless list of free or low-cost societies; the compact campus with its furniture swaps and clothing drives; and the way everyone seemed to know everyone.
I’m not saying it was better; but it was better for me.
Most of my fellow Scottish students were from working class backgrounds too.
The uni seemed to understand this, with tutors flagging evening class options for those who worked during the day.
Those same tutors made it clear on day one that their priority was students’ learning, not recruiting research lackeys.
“Seem quite supportive,” my mum observed on the way back from the open day. She was right. It was.
What about students going it alone?
I was lucky. I didn’t need much in the way of formal financial support from the university.
My parents were fortunately in a position to help me out with money towards rent, and gave me what extra housewares they could.
They’d taught me how to make budget-friendly meals and take care of my pennies.
Crucially, I knew that if I found myself in dire straits, I could go home.
That’s not something every student has the luxury of knowing. So many of my peers were out there alone, scrambling for a chance at higher education.
Like me, those peers always had a job.
Throughout my studies, almost everyone I knew worked part time, mostly in shops and bars.
But it’s important to note that ten years ago, even though part time jobs were just as exploitative as they are now – they were much, much easier to get.
Everywhere was open, so everyone was working.
Life-changing sums are small potatoes to universities
At the end of my first year at Dundee, something big happened for me.
I won a university prize for something I’d written.
The prize money was £1,000.
I’d never had £1,000 before. When I asked the admin staff if they’d added an extra zero by mistake, they found my shock endearing.
It was the first time I’d realised the kind of money these institutions were playing around with. It was also the first time that writing had made me any money.
For Dundee University, that was a drop in the ocean, but for me, it was life-changing.
Why am I telling you this? Not to brag about how easy I had it, although looking back, I did.
I had access to (and was encouraged to take) opportunities I would never have known about on my own, as no one in my family had been to uni before me.
My hard work was rewarded, and when I did need support after some tough times personally, the university’s mental health service was efficient and effective.
So it leaves a really bad taste in my mouth to see the institution which helped me build my life become so callous with its most in-need students.
Scrapped food provision is hard to stomach
In 2025, part time minimum wage is a battle to get. And even for those with jobs, the pay is often not enough to both pay rent and put food on the table.
For students whose parents cannot help to support them, programmes like the free breakfast and food pantry are a lifeline. You can’t learn if you’re hungry.
Like that £1000 cash prize, the savings to be made on these measures are a drop in the ocean for the university. But the measures themselves are vital.
The choice of senior leadership to penny-pinch from those most in need, after accepting pay rises on already exorbitant salaries, is nothing short of disgusting.
Dundee University was once a place you could go for a chance at a better life.
But I wouldn’t go looking for one there in 2025.
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