Year abroad panic: Both isolating in practice and preparation

As a modern languages student, the promise of a mandatory year abroad is for me, and most others, a highlight of the degree. The idea of living abroad (especially when I’ve never spent more than a week on holiday) and the opportunity to reach fluency in my languages is often what motivates me through my studies.

However, as excited as I am, now that second year has come around, the planning process is somewhat tarnishing the romance of what initially sounded like skiving off all academic responsibility for a year in Europe. There is so much to consider: Finance, placement location, travel logistics… Not only this, but as a student studying three languages, this means I have to organise all this not once, but three times. That means three different Visas, three different places to live and three different financial climates. Slowly, but surely, I am beginning to feel like Phileas Fogg, a Phileas Fogg more concerned with logistics than a lust for adventure (terribly boring.)

Available support?

What’s more is the realisation that there is only so much the uni can do to support you. Most of the planning relies on your own independent research including work placements, study placements, visa applications and requirements, accommodation, general cost of living, etc. I think it’s safe to say that for those of us excited by the prospect of a year abroad, we didn’t quite realise the extent to which we were out on our own (get it;). Legal ramifications mean that the university can only offer so much advice and (not that it comes as a surprise in this economy) we are not offered any financial compensation.

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Finance

On the topic of finance, this is generally the biggest concern when it comes to planning the next year. Again, there is so much to budget for when moving to a different country; multiply this by three and throw in some limited student means for good measure and you’re looking at a conundrum Einstein would struggle to crack. For example, something I personally didn’t realise was that, in addition to paying for a visa in itself, is the cost of translating documents and forms which in total, racks up to hundreds of pounds per visa application, not to mention the cost of travel to the British consulate in London (or Manchester) to physically get your hands on said visas.
Whilst there are certain support systems in place in terms of financial aid (travel grants, Turing Fund, higher SFE loans, etc), the money you receive is also based on whether you opt to study or work across the year and additional financial compensation is not guaranteed. This is especially the case with the Turing Fund which comes from the government and, frustratingly, can only be confirmed by the university very late in the academic year whether their appeal for this funding has been approved, after you’ve already planned your year and is generally reserved for the most critically means-tested students.
Consequently, I am taking a trip down memory lane to my sixth-forms days by returning to a part-time job in hospitality alongside my studies in order to prepare for the coming year. Not only does this add to the list of things for me to juggle as a full-time student, but more crucially means sacrificing my Saturday nights – usually spent in Thekla. On a serious note, it does feel unfair that a course requirement as expensive as this one is self-funded.

But I do know I’m not the only one. As far as I know, most of my course mates are experiencing similar anxieties. It’s quite a daunting thought for us all, not knowing which country you’ll be living in next year, let alone what uni you’ll be studying in or what job you may be doing. This, combined with deserting your social life in Bristol, moving even further away from your family and integrating into a completely new culture, starts to become a real headache.

Hearing from fourth year students does help to calm my nerves. Despite learning of some quite chaotic experiences (accommodation scams, visa complications, dysfunctional living arrangements) most returning students have many positive experiences gained from their year abroad.

Year abroad and don’t do languages?

I do feel for students on other courses who have also opted for a year abroad since even less support is made available to them. One of my housemates recently dropped out of doing a year abroad for her Politics degree as she realised the expense of the year was not worth the somewhat disappointing placements on offer for her; with all due respect, I’m yet to meet anyone foaming at the mouth to spend an academic year in Freiberg or Reimes. Furthermore, she felt that the uni was providing her with little information and was struggling with the planning process as a result.

This begs the question as to whether the university should provide more information on what is actually involved in a year abroad before offering the opportunity for students to opt for it. Perhaps a general overview of the average costs involved, the steps necessary for planning and the time you have to consider your options would be beneficial for these students.

Unfortunately, as I am currently in the throes of planning my third year, there’s not much advice I have to offer. I fear this may be an issue of trusting the process and just accepting any losses. But ending on a positive note, despite all this moaning, I am certain that next year will be one of the most enriching and fulfilling experiences of my life (I just need to make it through second year first).