Tag: love

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⭐ Things I Wish I’d Known Before Becoming a Mature Student

Becoming a mature student is like signing up for a gym membership in January: you’re excited, motivated, and slightly delusional about what’s coming. You think, “This will be good for me.” And then suddenly you’re knee‑deep in assignments, crying over Harvard referencing, and wondering if you’ve accidentally joined a cult.

Here are the things I wish someone had told me before I jumped into this beautiful, chaotic mess.

☕🤣 1. Coffee becomes your emotional support animal

Not a drink.

Not a treat.

A coping mechanism with a handle.

You don’t sip it — you cling to it like it’s holding your life together.

🧠💀 2. Your brain has a VERY specific schedule

Before 9am: unstoppable genius.

9am–8:59pm: “What’s my name again?”

After 9pm: suddenly Shakespeare, Einstein, and Beyoncé combined.

No one warned me that my peak academic hours would be the same hours I’m usually in pyjamas watching Netflix.

📚🚗 3. You will study in places that should be illegal

The car.

The bathroom.

The school car park.

Outside Tesco.

On the stairs.

In bed, pretending you’re “just resting your eyes”.

If there’s a flat surface, it’s a study space.

🤦‍♀️🎓 4. Imposter syndrome hits like a bus

You walk into uni thinking:

“Do I belong here?”

“Should I be at home doing laundry?”

“Why does everyone look like they were born in 2010?”

But then you realise:

You’ve lived, you’ve worked, you’ve survived life.

You’re not behind — you’re seasoned.

😂🔥 5. You will be humbled regularly

Like when staff at the open day ask if you’re looking at the course for your son or daughter and you have to say:

“No… me.”

And then smile politely while your soul leaves your body.

🫶📣 6. Support hits you right in the feelings

Colleagues cheering you on.

Leadership backing you.

People saying, “You’d be amazing at this.”

You don’t realise how much you needed that until you hear it.

And suddenly you’re crying in the staffroom next to the laminator.

🧩💡 7. You’ll realise you already do half the job

You’ve been supporting, guiding, teaching, explaining, calming, encouraging… You just didn’t have the qualification.

Or the student discount.

(Which, honestly, is the real prize.)

📝💛 8. You will surprise yourself

With how much you can juggle.

With how much you can learn.

With how much you actually want this.

You’ll have moments where you think,

“I can’t do this.”

And then you’ll do it anyway.

That’s the magic.

⭐ 9. You’re not too old — you’re just getting started

Being a mature student isn’t a disadvantage.

It’s a superpower.

You’ve got resilience.

You’ve got experience.

You’ve got the ability to write an essay while cooking dinner and answering a child shouting “MUUUUM” from another room.

You’re not late.

You’re right on time.

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⭐ How I Went From ‘I’m Too Old’ to ‘Where’s My Student Discount?’

If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be a full‑time mum, full‑time school leader, and a full‑time student, I would’ve laughed so hard I’d need my inhaler. But here we are.

It all started with a tiny, ridiculous thought:

“Maybe I could teach?”

Followed immediately by:

“Don’t be silly, you’re ancient.”

I tried to ignore it. I really did. But the thought kept creeping back in like a toddler at 3am.

Eventually, I mentioned it to colleagues — casually, like a joke. “Imagine me… teaching.”

But instead of laughing, they hit me with: “You’d be amazing.” “Why not you?” “You literally already do half the job.”

Rude but fair.

Then came the confidence boost from my executive head, who basically said, “Go on then, do it,” which is how I found myself Googling courses at midnight while eating biscuits and questioning every life choice I’ve ever made.

Next thing I know, I’m booking myself onto an open day — because apparently I enjoy suffering.

And THAT is where the universe decided to humble me. I walked in, trying to look like a functioning adult. A staff member smiled and said:

“Are you here to look at the course for your son or your daughter?”

I said, “Me.”

Instant regret.

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, the building, and ideally the entire postcode.

But I stayed. I listened. I asked questions.

And somewhere between the embarrassment and the panic, I realised something:

I wasn’t too old. I was just starting later. And that’s allowed.

I applied.

They accepted me.

And suddenly I was a student again — Googling “How to reference without crying” and “Do mature students get extra snacks?”

And that’s how The Immature Student was born.

From chaos.

From courage.

From coffee.

Mostly coffee

(and maybe a tiny bit of wine)