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Half Term, Half Human: A Mature Student’s Survival Blog

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Ah, half term. That magical week when the coffee mug stops trembling, the alarm clock gets a brief sabbatical, and you briefly remember what daylight looks like. For us mature students working in further education, it’s less “wild week off” and more “necessary system reboot.” Think of it as switching yourself off and back on again—like an overworked printer that’s starting to smell faintly of desperation.

The Reset (or at least, the Attempt)

You begin the week with great intentions: yoga, reading, meal prep, perhaps finally tackling the “cupboard of doom.” But inevitably, it ends up as pyjamas, snacks, and the occasional “I’ll just check my emails” spiral. You tell yourself it’s restorative. You deserve this. You need this. You’ve earned the right to merge with the sofa like some academic burrito.

And yet, Monday looms.

The Return: Operation Motivation

The first day back greets you with the cheerful announcement that you’ll be spending it at Sandon Bowers for an “outdoor motivational challenge day” with supported students, because nothing says welcome back to reality like being cold, damp, and expected to look inspirational while wearing a harness.

The male staff, naturally, have developed a sudden and contagious fear of heights. Which leaves me—proudly sporting my “festively plump” post-half-term physique—to demonstrate “how easy it is” to scale the climbing wall.

You stand there, staring up at the wall. The wind whips your face. Somewhere in the distance, a seagull laughs. The students cheer you on, half out of encouragement, half out of morbid curiosity.

And as you begin your ascent (a generous term for whatever flailing occurs), you can’t help but think of Mary Wollstonecraft, your current literary companion. The champion of reason, women’s rights, and intellectual independence. Would she approve of this scenario?

Probably not. But she’d definitely appreciate the irony of a woman literally climbing her way through modern education—powered only by tea, stubbornness, and the lingering hope of a biscuit at the top.

The Aftermath

You survive. Barely. You are cold, muddy, and approximately one emotional breakdown away from Googling “jobs involving indoor heating.” But you’ve done it. You’ve inspired your students, terrified the men, and lived to tell the tale.

Now it’s early bed, fluffy socks, and a quiet mental countdown:
Just six weeks until the next half term.

And yes—the Christmas decorations are absolutely going up this weekend. Because if anything can motivate a weary educator to keep climbing (literally or figuratively), it’s the promise of twinkly lights, mince pies, and a socially acceptable excuse to drink Baileys before noon.

 Moral of the Story:
You don’t have to be Mary Wollstonecraft to inspire others. Sometimes, just showing up, strapping in, and hauling your post-holiday behind up a wall is enough.

Now… where’s that countdown app?

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The Glamorous Life of a Mature Student (Spoiler: It’s Mostly Tea and Chaos)

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Ah, the life of a mature student. People think it’s all intellectual debates, neatly highlighted notes, and serene moments of enlightenment. In reality, it’s more lukewarm tea, misplaced pens, and wondering why you ever thought going back to study was a good idea after a full day at work.

Today began like any other — the noble quest to conquer adulthood and academia simultaneously. I spent the morning at work making folders (thrilling stuff), helping students (bless them, though half of them seem to think I’m Google with legs), and trying not to cry into the photocopier. My desk looked like a cross between an admin battlefield and a stationery graveyard.

After surviving the day armed only with caffeine and mild sarcasm, I trudged home, dreaming of my “gourmet” dinner — lovingly prepared by my husband: a chicken burger and oven chips. Michelin-star chefs could never. He even made me a cup of tea to go with it, because nothing says “I love you” like a well-timed brew.

As I sat down to eat, our dogs came bounding over like furry missiles of affection. In their enthusiasm to say hello, one launched herself into my lap, and the tea went flying; my beautiful burger took a nosedive into the cup. So now I had tea-flavoured chicken and chip-infused regret. The dogs looked delighted, of course — they thought it was performance art.

Outside, the weather matched my mood: cold, grey, and generally unhelpful. I gave up on salvaging dinner, put the kettle on...again, and decided the universe was clearly telling me to have an early night.

No studying tonight. No guilt. Just pyjamas, a blanket, and the faint smell of damp chips lingering in the air. Tomorrow, I’ll refocus. I’ll be productive. I’ll tackle my to-do list like the mature, organised student I pretend to be.

But tonight? Tonight, I’m just a tired human with soggy dinner memories and tea stains on my socks.

Here’s to all the mature students out there — juggling work, study, and life’s little disasters. May your folders stay neat, your dogs stay calm, and your tea stay safely in its cup. ☕🐾


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