Category: Access & WP

  • Removing the rent guarantor barrier to safe and stable accommodation

    Removing the rent guarantor barrier to safe and stable accommodation

    Universities talk about widening participation – but how many ensure every student has a home to go to, so they really can participate?

    Rent guarantor requirements are a routine part of student housing, yet they exclude those without family support. It’s time for the sector to take responsibility for removing this barrier.

    Most students will need a rent guarantor to secure university halls or private housing.

    Imagine how much harder that is if you can’t turn to family members for that support – often the case for young people that have experience of the care system or are estranged from their parents.

    Young people in this position can face sofa surfing, dangerous housing situations and dropping out of university. According to NUS research in 2024, 14 per cent of low-income students are reconsidering university due to accommodation costs – with guarantor requirements cited as a major barrier.

    Lack of information is a compounding issue. Students without easy access to a guarantor might not even know they need one until the moment they go to sign a new contract with peers – often with whom they have not shared their status and only known for a matter of weeks.

    Getting things clear

    At the Unite Foundation, we encourage all universities to include clear information about rent guarantors on their housing webpages and on any other pages specifically for students like care leavers, estranged, or international students. It’s vital that any student without UK family to rely on knows what a rent guarantor is before having to suddenly find one or miss out on a home at university.

    In Summer 2025, we commissioned a student-led audit of over 180 university websites. 60% included clear information about rent guarantors. This is positive progress, up from 45% in 2024 and 36% in 2022 when we started this work. But that’s still 40% of university websites that don’t provide clear information about this key element of the university accommodation journey.

    Impact of Renters Rights Act

    When the Renters Rights Act comes into force in 2026, it will shift the challenge faced by students unable to secure a guarantor.

    Despite lobbying by NUS for the abolition of guarantor requirements entirely, the Act will not stop landlords from requiring a guarantor, but it will limit upfront rent payments to a maximum of one month’s rent.

    Whilst a positive step for the majority of students, the unintended consequence may be to prevent students who are unable to source a guarantor from making a large advance rent payment instead. Paying large advances causes its own set of issues for students, but is often seen as the lesser of two evils compared to homelessness.

    It’s anticipated that the legislation may stimulate an increased market for commercial guarantor providers. Commercial providers – companies which act as guarantor for a fee – can be a valuable service, but it is a varied market that sits outside Financial Conduct Authority regulation.

    Emerging fees can be between 4 and 15 per cent of annual rent if paying upfront, and up to 20 per cent if paying monthly. Disadvantaged students paying an unregulated premium to access a routine tenancy would be a perverse outcome of measures intended to strengthen tenant rights.

    What are the alternatives?

    The Unite Foundation has launched our Blueprint for a #HomeAtUniversity – a guide to support universities in ensuring a safe and stable home for care experienced and estranged students. We set out six areas through which universities and PBSA providers can use housing as a widening participation tool. And removing the rent guarantor barrier is one of these.

    We know that the context of each university is different, and there are different ways to approach removing the rent guarantor barrier.

    Universities like Imperial and Cardiff offer their own guarantor schemes. Some university halls don’t require a guarantor at all. Other universities cover the cost of a commercial guarantor provider, through a negotiated partnership between provider and university.

    And it’s great to see Unite Students, our founder and long-term champion, pilot an approach enabling their university partners to step into the role of guarantor for care-experienced and estranged students, at zero cost or risk.

    Availability of safe, affordable accommodation is at the heart of many current social policy debates and like wise is fundamental to the sustainability and accessibility of higher education.

    There are significant structural issues at a national level in ensuring a home at university for all students – including lack of coordination between universities and local authorities and the level of student maintenance loan. At the Unite Foundation, we do not believe that practice in universities and PBSA providers should replace systemic change. But we also believe that whilst we wait for that change, there is more impact that accommodation providers at university can make.

    At the Unite Foundation we are here to help with case studies and peer support webinars sharing what is happening on the ground in the sector. If you deliver an intervention evidenced to support a safe and stable home at university for care experienced and estranged students, or if you want to learn more about what your university could be doing, please get in touch.

    A safe and stable #HomeAtUniversity isn’t a luxury — it’s a prerequisite for participation, success, and equity in higher education.

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  • The future of financial hardship support needs to be flexible

    The future of financial hardship support needs to be flexible

    The government’s recent white paper on Post-16 Education and Skills places flexibility and choice at the centre of the future student experience.

    When it comes to students, the government wants universities and colleges to adapt to a much wider range of demographics and to further embrace diversity – while continuing to break down the barriers to opportunity for students from all backgrounds.

    One of the ways to strengthen opportunity is through the additional forms of financial support (via bursaries, scholarships and special-case funds) that higher education institutions provide for those students most at risk of dropping out, or those simply denied opportunity in the first place.

    When it comes to this funding, the sector needs to work much harder in supporting a more varied set of future students, whilst making better use of data to design support packages, and adapting to the real-time user requirements for this type of funding.

    Beyond the post-school model

    The majority model of financial support is still designed primarily for a post-school entrant market (in line with access and participation plans) but we now need to evolve this for a much broader range of working students, part-time students, later life students and so on – based on the white paper’s steer for different student demographics and for more support for students from lower income backgrounds. This will require more agility. It will also require a closer and more strategic, data driven approach to the timing, delivery and use of such student funding.

    Universities will increasingly be expected to meet the needs of a more diverse and complex learner population, one that is typically older, more financially stretched, and balancing work, family, caring responsibilities, and study. While the student body is evolving at pace, and there are encouraging signs of greater flexibility and adaptability across the sector, as highlighted in The Shape of Student Financial Support in 2025, there is also clear recognition that more progress is needed.

    In our work with universities (designed to strengthen the effective delivery and impact of student financial support) we refer to this sea-change in funding as enabling both more optionality (for the funders) and greater agency (for the beneficiaries). Too much of the sector’s current model still assumes the profile and rhythms of the traditional 18-year-old school leaver. Policy momentum is pushing us firmly beyond this, and institutions will need to rethink not just how much financial support they provide, but how, when and in what form it is provided, and crucially, who it is designed for.

    A new student majority

    Commuter students, part-time learners, those studying while working full-time, and individuals returning to education later in life are no longer outliers. They are becoming a significant and growing segment of the student population, and the white paper’s direction of travel signals that this growth will continue.

    These learners typically have different cost profiles, different pressures, and different expectations around support. Rent and food costs matter, of course, but so do childcare, caring responsibilities, travel to placements and campus, and the financial instability that often comes with shift-based or zero-hours work. Their support needs do not fall neatly around term dates.

    A modern student support system must reflect that reality.

    Beyond the “once-a-year” mindset

    One of the strongest messages emerging from our work with universities is that timing of support is as critical as the pound value that support. Students increasingly need support that works with the grain of real life, not against it. That means agility: funds that can be released quickly during a crisis; support that can be drawn down in a way that helps with budgeting; and options that reflect different lifestyles, responsibilities, and individuals preferences around how they manage their finances.

    For mature learners, the notion of a predictable “start of term” pressure point is often irrelevant. Housing, employment and family commitments create fluctuating financial pinch-points throughout the year. A forward-looking and agile hardship and support model must therefore allow universities to intervene dynamically, reacting to student need rather than institutional calendar.

    Across the more than 40 institutions we partner with, we see a growing shift toward more targeted, purpose-led and flexible support. Although institutions are facing significant financial constraints, they are adapting, often rapidly, to ensure funding reaches the right students in a way that genuinely makes a difference.

    We are seeing:

    • A move toward more tailored interventions, with universities reshaping bursaries and hardship schemes around specific learner profiles, including mature and commuter students.
    • Increased use of real-time payment mechanisms, enabling rapid support when a financial shock threatens continuation.
    • Greater use of data to understand how different types of students use support, and what interventions are most likely to prevent financial distress, disengagement or withdrawal.
    • Growing recognition that support must be designed around lived experience, responsive to trends and feedback, not just institutional tradition.

    This shift is encouraging, but the system as a whole is not yet optimised for the demographic change that the White Paper anticipates.

    Where policy meets practice: recommendations for a modernised support model

    To prepare for a more diverse learner population, the sector will need to reimagine its support architecture. From our work with universities and our ongoing analysis of funding patterns, several recommendations emerge:

    We should build support models around life-stage, not simply level of study. Mature and non-traditional learners experience costs and vulnerabilities that differ from the archetypal school-leaver. Support schemes should explicitly recognise this, particularly around childcare, travel, digital access, and household stability.

    There is a need to shift from fixed-cycle payments to flexible, real-time support. Financial crises rarely occur conveniently during scheduled disbursement windows. Universities need mechanisms that allow for rapid, secure, and dignified disbursement of funds whenever needed.

    It is time to explore hybrid support models that blend cash, credit and vouchers. Different pressures require different tools. Cash support is essential in alleviating hardship. Credit and voucher mechanisms can help direct funds toward participation, learning, and targeting food poverty. Mature learners often benefit from a mixture of both.

    We must make data central to decision-making. With financial pressure mounting across the sector, institutions must allocate limited resources with precision. Data on spending patterns, draw-down behaviour and student feedback can inform more effective and equitable holistic support strategies.

    We should co-design support with the students who rely on it. There is no substitute for listening to those living the experience. Mature and non-traditional students frequently report that support systems “aren’t designed for people like me”. Bringing their voices into design and evaluation will be vital.

    A financial support system fit for the future

    The white paper’s direction is clear: widening participation will no longer be defined simply by access for school leavers from underrepresented groups. It will increasingly require a system capable of supporting learners from every life stage, people retraining, upskilling, switching careers, balancing caring responsibilities, or returning to education for the first time in decades.

    This transition will require institutions to be flexible, evidence-led, and prepared to evolve their traditional models of support. Our latest annual report provides one lens on how this evolution is taking place, and where further change is needed. But the wider policy moment demands more than reflection: it demands intentional redesign.

    If universities are to deliver opportunity for all, as the white paper sets out, they will need financial support systems that reflect the real, diverse, year-round lives of today’s and tomorrow’s students. Flexibility is no longer a helpful addition; it is the foundation on which effective, equitable support must be built.

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  • Efforts to build belonging may get the problem the wrong way around

    Efforts to build belonging may get the problem the wrong way around

    Back in January 2024, John Blake, the now-departing Office for Students’ Director for Fair Access and Participation, was talking about the future of access and participation plans.

    Alongside announcing additional groups of students who might be at risk – service children, young carers, prisoners, commuter students, parents, and Jewish students – noted that “sense of belonging” had appeared in lots of evidence reviews as relevant to many of the risks.

    I’d urge providers to think hard about practical, enduringly impactful work they might do around that idea as part of new APPs.

    Now that all the approved APPs are in, I’ve had a look at what providers are actually proposing.

    I’ve reviewed approved access and participation plans from across the sector in England, extracting every mention of belonging as a strategic priority, every identification of belonging deficits as a risk, and every intervention designed to address them.

    The result is a picture of how the sector understands and responds to belonging challenges. The pattern I’ve found is so consistent across provider types, mission groups, and geographical locations that it ought to amount to a sector-wide consensus about how to “do” belonging.

    The problem is that that consensus appears to be fundamentally at odds with what research tells us about how belonging actually works.

    The deficit model at scale

    Nearly every university identifies that specific disadvantaged groups – Black students, mature students, care-experienced students, disabled students, commuter students, students from IMD Quintile 1 – report lower belonging scores than their peers.

    They then design targeted interventions to address this deficit – peer mentoring schemes for Black students, mature student networks and “mingles”, care-experienced student buddy schemes, disability-specific student groups, commuter-specific transition support.

    The interventions are pretty homogeneous. Birkbeck is running “sustained programmes of Black Unity Events” to “provide a space for Black students to authentically be themselves, form connections and friendships”. Leeds Arts has created “My/Your/Our Space” – a “safer space and community relevant to background” specifically for students of minoritised ethnicities. Northampton has developed a “Black Excellence Programme” designed “to empower Black undergraduate students early on in their transition to level 4 courses with the confidence, sense of belonging and mattering to become resilient leaders and role models”.

    Greenwich has implemented the “Living Black at University Project to support BAME students develop a sense of belonging and community outside of the classroom”. Liverpool John Moores is “developing a Black students peer network via JMSU, focusing on creating a black student community”.

    It’s not just ethnicity. For mature students, East Anglia will “continue specific co-created sense of belonging opportunities for groups of students to meet socially” through a mature student network. Leeds is expanding a “middle ground network pilot” – “co-creating spaces (virtual, physical) for mature and ‘younger mature’ students to help develop a greater sense of belonging”. Bristol is implementing “enhanced mature student community building through mingles, student advocate-led events, and an extended mature student welcome and transition programme”.

    The pattern is almost identical across every characteristic. Care-experienced students get targeted belonging interventions at York (“Achieve HE program aims for increased sense of belonging socially and academically”), Durham (“dedicated mature learners coordinator” aims for “increased sense of belonging”), and Portsmouth (specialist support for “enhanced sense of belonging”). Disabled students get belonging-focused societies and groups. Commuter students get special spaces. And so on.

    Nearly every institution frames belonging as something that specific groups lack, and that requires special intervention to remedy. The language is consistent – students from disadvantaged backgrounds “may struggle to feel they fit in”, “can lack a sense of belonging at university”, “feel disconnected from their academics/tutors and/or fellow students”, and “feel isolated or unsupported from the moment they arrived at University”.

    The Wisconsin problem

    I’ve talked about this before here, but about a decade ago, there was a problem at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Across a collection of STEM courses, there was a significant achievement gap between marginalised groups (all religious minorities and non-White students) and privileged students.

    Psychology professor Markus Brauer had an idea based on his previous research on social norms messaging – communicating to people that most of their peers hold certain pro-social attitudes or engage in certain pro-social behaviours.

    He started by trying out posters, then showed two groups of students videos. One saw an off-the-shelf explanation of bias and micro-aggressions. The other saw lots of students describing the day-to-day benefits of diversity – a “social norms” video revealing that 87 per cent of students actively supported diversity and inclusion.

    The latter video had a strong, significant, positive effect on inclusive climate scores for students from marginalised backgrounds. They reported that their peers behaved more inclusively and treated them with more respect.

    But by the end of the semester, the achievement gap was completely eliminated. Not through remedial support for struggling students, not through special programmes for disadvantaged groups, but through changing what everyone believed about what everyone else valued.

    The Wisconsin intervention didn’t create a “Black Student Success Program”, didn’t offer “enhanced support for marginalised students”, and didn’t build “safe spaces” for specific groups or train “allies” to support disadvantaged students. It told all students the truth about what their peers already valued – and behaviour changed dramatically.

    The research found that while most students genuinely valued diversity, they incorrectly believed their peers didn’t share these values, and the misperception created a false social norm that discouraged inclusive behaviour.

    Students who might naturally reach out across cultural boundaries held back, thinking they’d be the odd ones out. When you correct that misperception – when you say “actually, 87 per cent of your peers actively support diversity” – you transform intervention from an exceptional act requiring special training into standard behaviour.

    But most elements of the dominant APP approach do the opposite:

    • Wisconsin said: “Most students already value diversity – here’s proof”. UK universities say: “We need to create spaces where Black students can feel they belong”
    • Wisconsin said: “Inclusive behaviour is normal here”. UK universities say: “We’ll train mature students how to access support networks”
    • Wisconsin said: “Let’s change what everyone thinks everyone else believes”. UK universities say: “Let’s give disadvantaged groups the resources they lack”

    The Wisconsin research explicitly warns against the dominant approach. As the researchers note:

    “…empowering marginalised groups through special initiatives can paradoxically highlight their ‘different’ status, reinforcing the hierarchies we’re trying to dismantle.

    Power and perception

    To understand why the targeted approach fails, we need to examine how power operates in university settings. Brauer’s research identifies several key dynamics.

    Power shapes perception – those with social power tend to stereotype less powerful groups while seeing their own group as diverse individuals. Power also affects behaviour – powerful individuals act more freely, take bigger risks, and break social rules more often. In seminars, confident students dominate discussions while others remain silent – not because they lack ideas, but because power dynamics constrain their behaviour.

    Most importantly, power creates attribution biases. When powerful people succeed, we attribute it to their personal qualities. When less powerful people fail, we blame their circumstances. This creates self-fulfilling prophecies that reinforce existing hierarchies.

    The dynamics explain why traditional EDI initiatives often fail. Telling powerful groups they’re biased can actually reinforce stereotyping by making them defensive. Meanwhile, “empowering” marginalised groups through special initiatives paradoxically highlights their “different” status, reinforcing the hierarchies we’re trying to dismantle.

    For Brauer, the students don’t lack belonging. The institution lacks inclusive structures that make belonging feel normal. There’s a profound difference between “you need help fitting in because you’re different” and “this is how we all do things here – welcome to the crew.”

    Ticking the boxes

    So why are universities doing this? Partly because OfS asked them to think about belonging, partly because APP spend has to be “on” the disadvantaged groups, and partly because “we’re doing a thing” makes sense in a compliance environment.

    It’s easily documented, measurable by group, defensible to regulators, and demonstrably “doing something”. The Wisconsin approach would be much harder to report in an APP. How do you document “we told everyone that most students already value diversity”? Which “target group” got the “intervention”? What’s the “spend per head”? How do you prove that changing perceived social norms reduced the achievement gap when you didn’t target any specific demographic?

    As such, the APP architecture itself pushes providers toward deficit-model interventions. You can’t write “we’re going to make peer support universal and student-led because that’s just how induction works here”, because that doesn’t read as an access and participation intervention.

    You can’t write “we’re going to survey students and publicize that 78 per cent actively welcome international students”. That doesn’t look like you’re spending money on disadvantaged groups, or map onto the OfS risk register.

    The result is targeted compliance theatre that the evidence suggests will entrench the hierarchies it claims to dismantle.

    To be fair, universities are also responding to a genuine perception that students from disadvantaged backgrounds need additional support to succeed. And they’re not wrong about the support needs – they may be wrong about the delivery mechanism.

    When continuation, completion, and attainment gaps persist for Black students, care-experienced students, and students from deprived areas, the institutional instinct is to create support structures for those specific groups – it feels like the responsible, caring response. But in practice, they are initiatives that are characteristic first, student second. You need special help because you’re different.

    What would actually work

    What would an alternative approach entail? The research suggests five key departures from current practice.

    First is normalising rather than targeting. Instead of creating programmes that make intervention seem exceptional, universities would need to reveal what’s already normal. The Wisconsin approach costs almost nothing – a video, an email, some posters showing that 87 per cent of students actively support diversity. But it requires actually surveying students to discover (they probably would) that most already hold pro-social attitudes, then making that visible. “We surveyed 2,000 students here – 78 per cent actively welcome international students” changes the perceived norm without targeting anyone.

    Universal design rather than special fixes also matters. This means asking different questions. Not “what enhanced personal tutoring do disadvantaged groups need?” but “what if the default tutorial system worked properly for everyone?” Not “what mature student networks should we create?” but “what if study groups and peer support were structured to include all ages and backgrounds by default?” Not “what transition support do care-experienced students need?” but “what if induction assumed zero prior knowledge and no family support for everyone?”

    This wouldn’t mean removing targeted financial support or specialist services (hardship funds, mental health provision, disability services). Those remain separate. It’s about ensuring the basic architecture of belonging – induction, peer support, community-building – works for everyone by default rather than requiring special programmes for specific groups.

    Student leadership of essential functions matters too. European models show students running welcome week, managing housing cooperatives, delivering careers support, organizing social activities – not as add-ons but as how the institution functions. Belonging becomes structural rather than programmatic.

    The challenge there is that UK universities have spent decades professionalizing student engagement – student experience teams, transition coordinators, wellbeing advisors, residence life programmes, delivered by professionals, for students, rather than by students, for each other. Reversing this requires actually giving functions back to students, with appropriate support structures and (dare we say) compensation for significant roles.

    But most important is working on the advantaged. If you want Black students to feel they belong, the Wisconsin research suggests you work with white students to change what they believe about what their peers value. The achievement gap closed partly because white students changed their behaviour.

    If you want mature students to feel integrated, you create structures where all students work together on meaningful projects, where collaboration across demographics is normal and expected. If you want care-experienced students to feel they matter, you create environments where all students contribute to running their community, where everyone assumes they’ll both need help and provide it to others.

    Little of this appears in approved APPs, which at best read as well-meaning, and at worst like victim blaming. Whether alternatives could appear in a future APP iteration – whether the architecture of the APP process would even recognise these as access and participation interventions – is an open question.

    What happens now

    The challenge both for OfS and for universities is significant. Every APP currently includes detailed commitments to targeted belonging interventions, complete with evaluation frameworks and expected outcomes. Universities have staff, allocated budgets, designed programmes, and set objectives based on the deficit model approach. Rowing back isn’t straightforward.

    But the evidence is increasingly clear that the approach, however well-intentioned, is unlikely to work – and may indeed backfire. More fundamentally, the sector needs to grapple with some uncomfortable questions. If most UK students already hold pro-social and pro-diversity attitudes (and research suggests they probably do), why don’t they act on them? What structural barriers prevent students from forming friendships and study groups across demographic boundaries?

    John Blake asked for “practical, enduringly impactful work” around belonging. What universities have delivered is well-intentioned, carefully designed, and probably counterproductive.

    The good news is that what actually works – changing social norms, creating universal structures, enabling student leadership – is arguably easier and cheaper than what the sector is intending. The bad news is that it requires the sector to admit it’s been thinking about the problem the wrong way around.

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  • The one where they still don’t have any friends

    The one where they still don’t have any friends

    As I’ve been doomscrolling on TikTok this term, my feed seems to have been dominated by university related videos.

    Either the algorithm thinks I’m a fresher or that I’m a HE policy wonk (it’s probably the latter).

    The videos that keep appearing are either fun trends from universities and students’ unions, or something a bit more worrying. There’s been an influx of students posting that they haven’t found any friends yet and are fearing that they will drop out.

    These videos include text like “day 2 at uni no friends,” “walked 10 miles alone just to not be alone in my room,” “being at uni for a month having made no friends and haven’t been out once” and “freshers please hmu my flatmates don’t leave their rooms.”

    A few weeks ago, one addition to my feed was:

    I genuinely think I’m having the worst experience ever…I wanted to go to the freshers fayre and had no one to go with.

    And it’s not just TikTok – a quick scroll of a few online threads about university (not the most sophisticated social listening, but go with me) speak of students feeling lonely, not knowing how to make friends with responses telling them to stick it out until Christmas and the original author saying “being here just feels so wrong.”

    Over the past few years there’s been a shift towards more inclusive and accessible induction activities, more realistic expectation setting, renaming freshers to welcome and a more non-drinking socials, so it begs the question – what is stopping students from making friends?

    Back to the drawing board

    What’s striking about these TikToks and Reddit threads is that they’re essentially public cries for help – and they get thousands of likes and hundreds of responses.

    The public tries to alleviate some of their anxieties in the comments – “you do make friends, give it time, 2 days is not enough to build connections,” “go to stuff on your own” and “join societies, your friends don’t have to be ur flat mates.” Solid but not groundbreaking advice.

    You hope that students take this advice and run with it – but it’s not the advice that’s particularly interesting, it’s the method of communication. Students are reaching out to the void asking for either help or some validation that they’re not feeling this alone.

    It says something about student confidence levels to engage in social activities, however accessible they are designed. It poses an opportunity to integrate social activities into pedagogy and into the classroom, if they’re less confident in engaging in the extra-curricular. It also reminds us that horizontal communication (student-student) seems to be more effective.

    I’m a people person

    This summer I spent the best part of 12 weeks of training student leaders across the country. In the first exercise I ask officers to draw out each others’ student journey. After presenting back I asked them all:

    …when things were going well for you during your student experience, what was it that made it good?

    After the third or fourth training session I got pretty good at predicting what they would say and 90 per cent of the time the answer was “friends.”

    It was friendships that made the difference – those that were there to support them when things were tough or made the good times even better. It wasn’t the lecture content or that field trip or academic support – although many had ideas on how to make these things better – it was people.

    This year’s student leaders are not naive. They’d go into detail about the different barriers to engagement, for many it’s about increased costs, time poverty (often spent working), increases in commuting but also homesickness and a lack of confidence to engage.

    These are new phenomena but often their biggest reflection was they wished staff understood the realities of the pressures on students, even if they couldn’t adapt their offer.

    They wouldn’t always see the university as having a responsibility to present opportunities for students to make friends – but when presented with B3 data, their access and participation plan and their university’s strategy that said something on belonging, they changed their tune.

    What students say

    But these student leader reflections only tell part of the story. To really understand the scale and texture of student loneliness, you need to read what students are posting when they think university staff aren’t watching.

    We’ve spent some time trawling through Reddit and The Student Room – and the posts are miserable. Not dramatic-devastating, but quietly, persistently crushing in their ordinariness. Student after student describing identical patterns of isolation, often in eerily similar language.

    When halls don’t help

    We design halls around the assumption that proximity creates friendship. Stick students in the same building, give them a shared kitchen, and community will naturally emerge. Except it doesn’t.

    One student writes:

    …my flatmates don’t use the kitchen at all, except for the fridge and the oven occasionally… i’m just terribly lonely and in the past two weeks i haven’t had a single conversation with any of my flatmates.

    Another echoes:

    Who do you eat with? No one. With who do you socialise? No one. My flatmates… eat in their rooms and never hang out in the kitchen.

    The pattern repeats across dozens of posts. En-suite rooms plus food delivery apps equals what students call “dead kitchens” – empty communal spaces that mock the idea of community. One thread about this phenomenon attracted hundreds of responses, with students confirming that the only things living in their kitchens are unopened spice racks.

    The emotional toll is immediate. A first-year Australian student (though the experience mirrors UK students exactly) wrote:

    I am in my first year of uni and basically know no one here and have not made any friends so far. I feel awkward and don’t know what to do in between classes so I usually end up sitting in the library by myself and studying. I’m at the point where I’m even too nervous to go and get food by myself despite being on campus for 8 hours, so I am not eating.

    Students are going hungry because eating alone feels too exposing.

    The commuter trap

    If halls students struggle, commuters face something worse – they’re missing the infrastructure entirely. One student explains:

    It’s isolating because you’re missing out on the little spontaneous moments like going to your friends place at 12am to just talk… I commuted for a year and it made me depressed.

    Another captured the structural impossibility:

    I just feel so left out… i wasn’t able to move out like i wished… i feel im missing out on being with my friends and being able to have the uni experience.

    A 19-year-old architecture student who commutes shared a particularly harrowing story about being excluded from their course group:

    When we all met in person, most of them excluded a few of us. I ended up in a smaller friend group, but I was always the one left out. I wasn’t ‘interesting’ enough, and being a commuter meant I couldn’t stay late or go out spontaneously.

    They added:

    I feel like a failure. I hate that this is upsetting my parents too—I know they’re proud of me, and I really want to make them happy. But I’m just so drained.

    The sense of failure is echoed by another commuter who chose to live at home:

    I decided to live at home during first year since I stayed in my home town but I’ve really struggled to make friends. I joined some sport societies but there were v few 1st years there and the other people already sort of have friends (those in older years) so it’s hard to get integrated in a group. I really don’t know my course mates very well due to everything being mostly online this year so it’s just been hard to meet people and click with them. I guess not being in halls has prevented me from meeting people… I just don’t really know what to do and I’m feeling quite lonely and like a failure for not having friend. Just sort of ruins your mood.

    The practical barriers compound. As one student put it:

    Commuting to uni can be lonely… there aren’t many social spaces, only study spaces… lectures end and ninety-five per cent leave in two minutes.

    No lockers, no warm spaces to linger, no time between the last train home and the evening social. HE has built an offer that excludes by timetable.

    Class, culture and not fitting the script

    Identity matters in ways universities don’t always acknowledge. A student from a deprived area wrote:

    i’m from a deprived area… there’s a lot of drug/drink culture at my uni… sometimes I feel like a weirdo for it.

    Another added:

    The majority of people who attend university are wild and very cliquey… It’s a very lonely experience unless you are into partying.

    For international students, the cultural friction is sharper:

    I moved to england 3 months ago… it’s just starting to hit me that i really am alone… my flatmates… need to drink and party like they need oxygen… lonely isn’t the word to describe how i feel.

    These aren’t just about personal preference – they’re about economic and cultural scripts that determine who feels they belong and who doesn’t.

    “Join societies” doesn’t always work

    The default advice. Can’t make friends? Join a society. And for some students, it works. But scroll through enough posts and you’ll see why it fails for many others.

    One student writes:

    Societies… aren’t what I expected… it feels so awkward… they’re already in groups.

    A third year adds:

    I’m a third year, still have no friends… the societies i tried were cliquey… seeing people with their groups on campus or on instagram stories… it’s so shit.

    The cost barrier is real too. While one student counsels:

    My advice is don’t do anything you don’t wanna do to try and make friends… be you and do what you want to do.

    Another counters the practical reality – joining multiple societies to increase your odds gets expensive fast when you don’t yet know if you’ll click with anyone.

    The timing trap

    Multiple students describe a narrow window for friendship formation, after which groups solidify and become hard to penetrate. A first-year, just a month in, writes:

    Hi everyone I feel so lonely I have been here nealy 4 weeks but havent found people who I click with it feels like I’m so different to everyone else here… everyone has already made their friends circle and I have no friends.

    The summer break breaks weak ties:

    Lonely as a third year… I struggle a lot with friendships… in first year I made some friends… after summer no one talked to me or reached out.

    And by third year, it can feel like starting over without any scaffolding:

    im a third year, still have no friends… the societies i tried were cliquey… seeing people with their groups on campus or on instagram stories… it’s so shit.

    One student captured the arbitrary nature of it:

    A huge part of it is also luck… I happened to be in a flat with really nice people… other flats had antisocial or downright horrible people.

    The mental health spiral

    Loneliness and mental health loop into each other. One student writes:

    I’m struggling with depression… my flatmates don’t talk to each other… everyone has got their own groups… I just feel like an Outsider.

    Another describes the avoidance cycle:

    I haven’t been able to make friends… I live in halls… never went to lectures due to paranoia, anxiety and depression… haven’t gone to society events because I haven’t got anyone to go with.

    A first-year in London shared:

    I have no idea when this happened but clearly I missed the memo lol. I am lagging in my studies, sometime I feel so down and anxious that I spend the entire day in the dark in bed because I have no motivation to attend lectures. I want to go out and club like other first years but I don’t really have anyone to go with.

    A 21-year-old woman in her second year described the visibility of her isolation:

    I’m 21 (female) and have no friends (I know how pathetic that sounds). I’m in my second year at uni and it’s so miserable having to attend lectures and seminars alone, it feels like it must be really obvious to other people how alone I am and it’s embarrassing. I have tried hard to connect with others but I have terrible social anxiety, making it pretty difficult, and the people I have spoken with/met online always seem to get bored with me very quickly.

    A student battling severe anxiety captured the intersection of mental health and neurodivergence:

    I’m lonely, have social anxiety, might have autism, low mood, low confidence & self esteem, no motivation for careers, seeing people live their best lives while I’m at my lowest, and I’m not sure why I’m carrying on anymore, it feels pointless. I feel like I’m invisible, on the sidelines, I don’t even feel like I belong here.

    For neurodivergent students, the executive function required to keep trying when effort isn’t reciprocated becomes an additional barrier. Students explicitly describe what researchers call “avoidance loops” – missing events because they have no one to go with, which means they can’t meet anyone, which means they keep missing events. The spiral tightens.

    The loneliness of having “friends”

    Perhaps most insidious is a different kind of loneliness – the kind where you technically have friends but still feel fundamentally alone. A student described this six months into university:

    I settled into uni well, I made a nice group of friends that I’m living with next year. It’s just 6 months in I’ve realised I’m not really that happy? I feel like I’m not really that similar to my two best friends here – and not in a good way. I just don’t really know what to do because it’s not like I can just drop them and make new friends? I feel like I just rushed into getting close with people so I wouldn’t be alone but I feel lonely anyway because I don’t feel like they really get me?

    This reflects something universities rarely measure – not just whether students have friends, but whether those friendships meet their actual needs. When students settle for proximity over genuine connection because the window for making friends feels so narrow, they end up locked into relationships that don’t sustain them.

    What’s also striking is how students describe the everyday humiliations of trying and failing:

    I even had free cinema tickets at one point and couldn’t even find anyone to go to the cinema with me for free lol. It’s making me feel really bad about myself and Im starting to feel as if there’s something wrong with me.

    Another:

    I came to uni thinking I would find people I could vibe with and chill with… I know I’m partially to blame because I’m also a naturally quiet and shy person but I feel like everyone has found their groups and it’s only November still the first term of uni and I’m just on my own… when I try to talk to people it feels like I’m begging it and not authentic.

    A second-year wrote:

    I have hundreds of acquaintances, but non of those i can call ‘friends’. When im not in uni, i spend the majority of my time alone, do things alone, go shopping alone, go to the cinema alone – all this to try and make me feel better, but just confirms my suspicions of being depressed, lonely and without any friends. I ******* hate it!

    And perhaps most painful – the contrast between the public and private self:

    I could literally cry bc I am so bored and lonely. Completely friendless… I just feel so emotionally alone and non existent when I am in university. Outside of university with my family it is positive attitudes and happy happy. But I don’t want to put up a facade that everything is peaches and cream when in uni because it is not.

    One student who failed their first year explained:

    I flopped, and I flopped bad. I failed 3 modules… The reason I flopped was…and I hate to openly say this but I was in a stage of manic depression; I’d lost all my friends from back home and I didn’t get on with my flatmates. They found me weird and geeky (which I am) I was very lonely throughout most of uni, had no friends… I flopped my exams because I had no motivation at life.

    What all of this adds up to

    Strip away the platitudes and a pattern emerges – in a mass system, students aren’t failing at friendship, the system is failing at social architecture.

    En-suite accommodation means students rarely bump into each other, food delivery apps mean kitchens stay empty, and mismatched timetables mean flatmates never overlap. Mass lectures that empty immediately don’t build connections, and when only one or two academics know a student’s name, academic spaces aren’t doing the social work we assume they are.

    Commuters can’t access evening socials due to travel costs and last trains, and they have nowhere to linger between classes with no warm spaces and no lockers. The default social offer remains alcohol-focused, excluding non-drinkers, international students unfamiliar with UK drinking culture, students from lower-income backgrounds, and those with anxiety or neurodivergence who find the format inaccessible.

    Friendships form early and groups solidify fast – often within the first few weeks. Students arriving late or missing that window describe groups as impenetrable by November, summer breaks dissolve weak ties, and third years start again without halls to facilitate contact. And even when students make friends, they often describe them as superficial, settling for proximity because the window for genuine connection felt too narrow.

    It’s a bit risky

    Over the summer with student leaders, a follow up activity that Jim and I deployed involved some student leaders coming up with a risk register for the student experience and then some mitigations. Some of their interventions about loneliness (modelled without funding or capacity constraints) are insightful and offer some food for thought:

    • More dedicated space for students to “exist” including communal lounges, lockers, microwaves and study space
    • Accessibility guides to rooms and spaces, pictures of what activities, seminar rooms and office hours might look like to set expectations and build confidence
    • Opportunities to chat, talk to other students and build connection built into the curriculum – through seminar activities, assessment or group projects
    • Comprehensive peer mentoring and buddy schemes that support students through their first few weeks
    • Longer processes of induction
    • Deliberately generating groupwork and discussion in the first teaching episodes of a module

    Some of this isn’t new and might be things that already take place on various campuses. But it’s becoming clear that without curated and designated interventions on student loneliness from student unions and their universities, one of the core parts of the student experience risks becoming a luxury good for a select few.

    And as money gets tighter and different parts of the student experience get shaved off, that might look like the social event the department runs with free pizza disappears or it could be bigger class sizes – either way the ability to form connections gets harder. Connection, belonging and mattering don’t always require vast funds, but they do reap huge rewards.

    Each cut makes forming friendships harder. Connection and belonging don’t always require huge budgets, but they do require intention. Notably, few interventions that remain focus specifically on helping students meet each other, despite this cutting across multiple institutional KPIs.

    If accommodation kitchens are dead, they can be made alive through regular subsidised socials and RA-hosted drop-ins. Commuters need staffed spaces with lockers and microwaves, clustered timetables, travel bursaries, and social calendars starting at 12:15 not 19:15. Social contact needs embedding in teaching through discussion, assessed group work, and academics knowing students’ names.

    The societies model needs fixing – month-one free trials to reduce experimentation costs, incentivising daytime and sober formats, normalising Week 5 sign-ups as much as Week 1, running “come alone” events. Addressing class and cultural barriers can be done through multiple entry points that don’t require drinking culture or cultural capital. Neurodivergent students need clear guides and structured formats. International students need mixed-group activities with staff introductions in weeks 2 and 6, not just induction.

    Funding this infrastructure properly isn’t expensive – and anyway, pizza socials and welcome events aren’t frivolous extras, they’re the scaffolding for measured outcomes. Engineer repeated face-to-face contact and friendships follow.

    There’s something else worth paying attention to, and it’s hiding in plain sight across Europe. In most countries we’ve visited on our Study Tours, universities allocate every new student to small groups of 5-15 with trained student mentors before they arrive. It’s universal, not optional or targeted at “at risk” groups. These second or third-year mentors guide groups through first term – campus tours, city exploration, and crucially, turning up to things together.

    When UK students explain why they didn’t engage in extracurricular activities, one answer dominates: “I had nobody to go with.” Universal mentoring solves this by design. Research shows these schemes improve retention, belonging and mental health, particularly for first-generation and international students. Aalto University credits their tutoring system for creating “the world’s best student experience.”

    UK universities run scattered peer mentoring – something for international students, maybe medical school family groups – but lack scale and universality. European universities assume all students need this and design accordingly. These schemes are student-led and union-coordinated, with training and modest payment or academic credit for mentors. Improved retention alone pays for the programme many times over.

    Whose job?

    Some will get this far and ask why universities should be responsible for students making friends. Surely that’s not what academics signed up for – shouldn’t institutions focus on teaching and research rather than playing social coordinator?

    The problem is that Maslow’s hierarchy doesn’t work the way we’d like it to. Students who are lonely, anxious, and socially isolated aren’t engaging with the academic self-actualisation at the top of Maslow’s pyramid – they’re stuck further down, and no amount of excellent lecture content will shift them up.

    The student who posted about being too anxious to get food after eight hours on campus isn’t thinking about their essay – they’re hungry and scared. The one spending entire days in bed in the dark isn’t going to benefit from better seminar slides.

    Universities can either acknowledge that belonging and connection are prerequisites for academic success, or they can keep measuring poor outcomes and wondering why interventions aimed at the top of Maslow’s pyramid aren’t working.

    And given that students are now paying the full cost of their education through a lifetime of additional tax framed as debt, universities can’t simply say “that’s not our problem” when the system they’ve designed produces loneliness at scale.

    Students seem remarkably willing to accept this as a collective responsibility – they generally don’t complain about resources spent on mental health support or on helping others succeed, even when they don’t use those services themselves.

    What breaks that tolerance is visible unfairness and institutional indifference. If universities want to retain that goodwill and actually deliver on the outcomes they’re being measured against, designing for friendship isn’t mission creep – it’s the foundation that makes everything else possible.

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  • Universities in England can’t ignore the curriculum (and students) that are coming

    Universities in England can’t ignore the curriculum (and students) that are coming

    What has schools policy got to do with higher education?

    The Westminster government has published Becky Francis’s Curriculum and Assessment Review, unveiling what Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson calls “landmark reforms” to the national curriculum.

    Interestingly, the revitalised curriculum is to be a “core part” of how the government will deliver the Prime Minister’s target of two-thirds of young people participating in higher-level learning by age 25.

    The review treats higher education as an explicit destination, not a distant afterthought.

    When it invents a new “third pathway” at level 3, it insists those V Levels must carry higher education credibility and be built so that young people can progress to degree-level study as well as work – hence Ofqual regulation and sector-standard-linked content. In other words, this isn’t a dead-end vocational cul-de-sac – it is designed to be read and trusted by admissions tutors.

    On T Levels, the panel recognises reality on the ground – many universities do already accept T Level learners – but says the acceptance landscape is messy, confusing and poorly signposted. Its answer is that government should keep working with providers and HEIs to promote understanding across the HE sector so applicants know which courses take T Levels and on what terms. The implication for universities is making recognition statements clearer, and aligning them with national guidance as it emerges.

    Why the anxiety about clarity? Because the authors kept bumping into learners who don’t grasp how subject and qualification choices at 16–19 play out later for university admission. That includes confusion introduced by new badge-sets like AAQs and TOQs. It turns out that if you design a landscape that looks like alphabet soup, you shouldn’t be surprised when applicants misread the signposts.

    Bacc to the future

    The EBacc gets a particular dressing-down. It’s true that taking an academic portfolio at GCSE correlates with applying to – and attending – university. But the review finds that EBacc combinations do not boost the chance of getting into the Russell Group, (although the only source for this is a paper from 2018, which doesn’t really come down conclusively against it), and that EBacc’s accountability pull has constrained subject choice in ways that squeeze arts and applied options. For HE, that means any lingering myth that EBacc equals elite-entry advantage gets killed off.

    There’s a financial edge to all this that the review politely doesn’t mention. When the previous government tried to defund BTECs, analysis showed the policy could strip £700 million in tuition fee income from the sector, with catastrophic effects for subjects like nursing, sport science, and computing – some facing 20 per cent recruitment losses. Those shortfalls would land heaviest on lower-tariff universities already wrestling with flat domestic recruitment and collapsing international numbers.

    The stakes for getting pathway reform right are existential for parts of the sector. If V Levels don’t recruit at scale, if T Level recognition remains patchy, and if the “simplification” just creates new barriers for disadvantaged students rather than removing old ones, some universities and programmes will struggle to recruit. The review’s optimism about legibility needs to meet reality – student choice is sticky, established qualifications have brand recognition, and centrally-planned qualification reform has a patchy track record. T Levels attracted just 6,750 students after £482 million of investment.

    As well as all of that, the panel seems super keen to stress the continuing strength of A levels as a pipeline, noting that in 2022/23 some eighty-two per cent of A level learners progressed to higher education by age 19. Whatever else changes, the academic route remains a robust feeder – and universities should expect the report’s other reforms to orbit around, not replace, that core.

    Crucially, the review refuses the tired binary that “vocational” equals “non-HE.” It records evidence that large applied or technical programmes can carry real weight with HE providers – precisely because they demonstrate breadth and depth in a way that can be benchmarked consistently across learners. If you run foundation years or applied degree routes, you are being invited to read these programmes seriously.

    It also acknowledges the contested evidence on outcomes for legacy qualifications like unreformed BTECs while still affirming their role in widening participation. The nuance matters – some qualifications have varied quality and mixed university performance data, yet for those who succeed in HE, BTECs and other AGQs have often been the bridge in. A credible vocational pathway that keeps that bridge open – while simplifying the current maze – is the intended fix.

    Are universities actually ready to make good on these promises? The sector has spent years documenting how BTEC students – despite “equivalent” tariff points – have systematically worse outcomes than A-level students. Arguably, the problem in some providers isn’t the qualification – it’s that first-year curricula and pedagogy remain stubbornly designed around A-level assumptions. Group projects, applied assessment, practical skills – the things BTEC students excel at – routinely get squeezed out in favour of essays and exams that privilege academic writing developed through A-levels.

    So when the review insists V Levels must “carry higher education credibility” and enable progression to degrees, the translation work required isn’t just clearer admissions statements – it’s a more fundamental rethink of how universities teach first-year students, assess them, and support their transition.

    Put together, the narrative runs something like this. Design V Levels to be legible to universities, clean up T Level recognition so applicants aren’t left guessing, stop pretending EBacc is a golden ticket to elite admission, and keep A levels stable, but value applied depth where it’s rigorous.

    And above all, help students understand how choices at 16–19 map to HE doors that open, or close, later.

    What (or who) is coming?

    There are some wider bits of note. The review has things to say about AI:

    …generative artificial intelligence has further heightened concerns around the authenticity of some forms of non-exam assessment… It is right, therefore, that exams remain the principal form of assessment.

    As such, it urges no expansion of written coursework and a subject-by-subject approach to non-exam assessment where it is the only valid way to assess what matters. It also tasks DfE and Ofqual to explore potential for innovation in on-screen assessment – particularly where this could further support accessibility for students with SEND – but cautions that evidence for wider rollout is thin and equity risks from the digital divide are real.

    Digital capability stops being taken-for-granted. Computing becomes the spine for digital literacy across all key stages, explicitly incorporating AI – what it is, what it can and can’t do – and broadening the GCSE so it reflects the full curriculum rather than a narrow slice of computer science. Other subjects are expected to reference digital application coherently, but the foundations live in Computing. Online safety and the social-emotional ethics of tech use sit in RSHE, while the “is this real?” critical discernment is anchored in Citizenship.

    The ambition is a cohort that can use technology safely and effectively, understands AI well enough to question it, and can interrogate digital content rather than drown in it.

    More broadly, English is recast so students study “the nature and expression of language” – including spoken language – and analyse multi-modal and so-called “ephemeral” texts. That builds media-literate readers and writers who can spot persuasion, evaluate sources, and switch register across platforms, backed by a Year 8 diagnostic to catch gaps early. Drama regains status as a vehicle for performance, confidence and talk.

    In parallel, an “oracy framework” is proposed to make speaking and listening progression explicit across primary and secondary – something schools say is currently fuzzy and inconsistently taught. The sector should expect clearer outcomes on expressing ideas, listening, turn-taking and audience awareness, with specific hooks in English and Citizenship.

    Citizenship is made statutory at primary with a defined core – financial literacy, democracy and government, law and rights, media literacy, climate and sustainability – and tightened at secondary for purpose, progression and specificity. The point is to guarantee exposure, not leave it to chance. If implemented properly, you’d expect clearer outcomes on budgeting and borrowing, evaluating claims and campaigns, understanding institutions and rights, and participating respectfully in debate.

    And climate education also steps out of the margins. Expect refreshed content in Geography and Science and an explicit sustainability lens in Design and Technology, with an eye on green skills and the realities of local, affordable fieldwork. The intent isn’t a new silo called “climate” – it’s to make the concepts visible, current and assessed where they logically belong.

    What’s next?

    If this all lands as intended – and that’s a big “if” given implementation timelines and school capacity – universities should expect a cohort that’s been taught to interrogate sources, question AI outputs, and articulate arguments aloud, not just on the page.

    Whether all of this survives contact with reality should be the sector’s real concern. The review’s timeline assumes schools can execute sweeping curriculum reform, embed new pathways, and deliver enhanced oracy and media literacy by 2028 – all while navigating funding pressures, teacher shortages, and the usual chaos of system change. That’s ambitious even in favourable conditions.

    And universities know from painful experience that when school reform stumbles, they inherit the mess. BTECs were supposed to be the accessible applied route, until differential outcomes data revealed the sector hadn’t actually adapted to teach those students effectively. The EBacc was positioned as the passport to elite universities, until evidence showed it just constrained subject choice without improving Russell Group entry. The Francis Review has laudable intentions – genuine pathways, informed choice, rigorous applied options – but intentions aren’t infrastructure.

    If the 2028 cohort arrives at university having been promised that V Levels are “trusted by admissions tutors” but finds patchy recognition, or discovers their oracy training doesn’t translate because seminars still privilege A-level-style discourse, the sector will be cleaning up another policy gap between aspiration and delivery. The review knows this risk exists – hence the repeated insistence on clarity, signposting, and sector cooperation.

    But cooperation requires capacity, and capacity requires resources neither schools nor universities currently have a box full of. Nevertheless, the intent is to send universities young people who can think critically, speak confidently, and navigate complexity.

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  • The white paper opens the door, but we need to ensure everyone gets in

    The white paper opens the door, but we need to ensure everyone gets in

    After months of anticipation, the post-16 education and skills white paper has finally landed.

    For many across the sector, the wait has been worth it. There are bold commitments on funding, skills pathways and structural reform. But for those of us focused on widening participation there are the green shoots of ideas but very little detail and the group of students who are at most risk to lack of equality of access – care experienced and estranged students – are barely even mentioned. The paper feels more like a promising prologue than a full chapter.

    There are areas of positive progress. The previously trailed increase in maintenance support, which will help students better manage rising living costs – a critical issue for those without family safety nets.

    Plus the report commits to “provide extra support for care leavers, some of the most vulnerable in our society, who will automatically become eligible to receive the maximum rate of loan.” We would want to see these extended to estranged students as well as care experienced young people as we know many report financial hardship without the support of parents to top up income. Data from the Student Academic Experience Survey showed us that both care experienced and estranged students work a statistically significantly higher number of hours per week – 11.3 and 11.1 hours respectively – than 8.8 hours non-care experienced students at 8.8 hours.

    But we must await further detail to see whether this makes any material difference for care leavers (and hopefully estranged students) – given that they’re currently already eligible for the maximum maintenance loan, and this maximum doesn’t cover anywhere near enough to support their living expenses, as recent work on minimum income standards has shown.

    A richer picture

    The promise of better information for applicants, combining UCAS data with graduate outcomes and completion rates, is an important move toward transparency and fairer choice. The work that UUK, Sutton Trust and UCAS have already started in this space is welcome but ensuring consistency will be key. This is especially important to consider when we know from UCAS research that 60 per cent of surveyed applicants said “they did not receive guidance at school around applying to higher education, specific to their status as a care-experienced student.”

    We’re also encouraged by the focus on regional disparities and disadvantage cold-spots, especially in coastal and low-participation areas. These are often the places where care experienced and estranged students are most at risk of being left behind.

    But while these commitments signal progress, there’s still much to be drawn out around widening participation. Care experienced and estranged students remain largely invisible in mainstream policy design. They’re not always captured in data. They’re rarely the headline. But they matter (which is why we welcomed HESA’s planned exploration of the issues involved in publishing data on this group of students more regularly). These students face some of the steepest barriers to access, retention and success.

    There are pockets of excellent practice and growing awareness of this group of students that is driving change in some areas. The commitment by Russell Group universities to develop a consistent offer of support is welcomed as is seeing more FE and HE institutions achieving the NNECL Quality Mark. These examples demonstrate that progress is achievable when there is institutional will and leadership – but there is still such little evidence about what works.

    At the Unite Foundation, we were pleased to see recognition that accommodation is a key issue. For care experienced and estranged students, having somewhere safe and stable to live is not just a nice-to-have – it’s a fundamental prerequisite for participation in education. If we’re serious about widening participation, then addressing the barrier of housing insecurity must be central to the conversation. And yet, the white paper is light on detail about how government will support access to accommodation. This is a missed opportunity.

    The Unite Foundation’s own scholarship programme remains the only intervention to meet OfS Level 2 standards for impact on retention, progression, and completion for this group. It’s a powerful testament to what targeted, sustained support can achieve – but it also highlights how little evidence we have about what works.

    The journey continues

    So while the white paper offers a welcome direction of travel, it’s not the final destination. I’m pleased to be joining the national access and participation task and finish group, chaired by access and participation champion Kathryn Mitchell, to work within government to ensure that we’re embedding care experienced and estranged students at the heart of this work as the detail starts to emerge.

    If we’re serious about change we need more than just warm words. We need system-wide commitments that embed equity in funding, housing, student support and success metrics. We need to listen to students and design policy that reflects their lived realities.

    The wrapping paper is off. Now it’s time to see what’s inside – and to make sure care experienced and estranged students aren’t left out of the picture.

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  • OfS Access and Participation data dashboards, 2025 release

    OfS Access and Participation data dashboards, 2025 release

    The sector level dashboards that cover student characteristics have a provider-level parallel – the access and participation dashboards do not have a regulatory role but are provided as evidence to support institutions develop access and participation plans.

    Though much A&P activity is pre-determined – the current system pretty much insists that universities work with schools locally and address stuff highlighted in the national Equality of Outcomes Risk Register (EORR). It’s a cheeky John Blake way of embedding a national agenda into what are meant to be provider level plans (that, technically, unlock the ability to charge fees up to the higher level) but it could also be argued that provider specific work (particularly on participation measures rather than access) has been underexamined.

    The A&P dashboards are a way to focus attention on what may end up being institutionally bound problems – the kinds of things that providers can fix, and quickly, rather than the socio-economic learning revolution end of things that requires a radicalised cadre of hardened activists to lead and inspire the proletariat, or something.

    We certainly don’t get any detailed mappings between numeric targets declared in individual plans and the data – although my colleague Jim did have a go at that a while ago. Instead this is just the raw information for you to examine, hopefully in an easier to use and speedier fashion than the official version (which requires a user guide, no less)

    Fun with indicators

    There are four dashboards here, covering most of what OfS presents in the mega-board. Most of what I’ve done examines four year aggregations rather than individual years (though there is a timeseries at provider level), I’ve just opted for the 95 per cent confidence interval to show the significance of indicator values, and there’s a few other minor pieces that I’ve not bothered with or set a sensible default on.

    I know that nobody reads this for data dashboard design tips, but for me a series of simpler dashboards are far more useful to the average reader than a single behemoth that can do anything – and the way HESA presents (in the main) very simple tables or plain charts to illustrate variations across the sector represents to me a gold standard for provider level data. OfS is a provider of official statistics, and as such is well aware that section V3.1 of the code of practice requires that:

    Statistics, data and explanatory material should be relevant and presented in a clear, unambiguous way that supports and promotes use by all types of users

    And I don’t think we are quite there yet with what we have, while the simple release of a series of flat tables might get us closer

    If you like it you should have put a confidence interval on it

    To start with, here is a tool for constructing ranked displays of providers against a single metric – here defined as a life cycle stage (access, continuation, completion, attainment, progression) expressed as a percentage of successful achievements for a given subgroup.

    Choose your split indicator type on the top right, and the actual indicator on the top right – select the life cycle stage on the box in the middle, and set mode and level (note certain splits and stages may only be available for certain modes and levels). You can highlight a provider of interest using the box on the bottom right, and also find an overall sector average by searching on “*”. The colours show provider group, and the arrows are upper and lower confidence bounds at the standard 95 per cent level.

    You’ll note that some of the indicators show intersections – with versions of multiple indicators shown together. This allows you to look at, say, white students from a more deprived background. The denominator in the tool tip is the number students in that population, not the number of students where data is available.

    [singles rank]

    I’ve also done a version allowing you to look at all single indicators at a provider level – which might help you to spot particular outliers that may need further analysis. Here, each mark is a split indicator (just the useful ones, I’ve omitted stuff like “POLAR quintiles 1,2,4, and 5” which is really only worth bothering with for gap analysis), you can select provider, mode, and level at the top and highlight a split group (eg “Age (broad)”) or split (eg “Mature aged 21 and over”).

    Note here that access refers to the proportion of all entrants from a given sub-group, so even though I’ve shown it on the same axis for the sake of space it shows a slightly different thing – the other lifecycle stages relate to a success (be that in continuation, progression or whatever) based on how OfS defines “success”.

    [singles provider]

    Oops upside your head

    As you’ve probably spotted from the first section, to really get things out of this data you need to compare splits with other relevant splits. We are talking, then, about gaps – on any of the lifecycle stages – between two groups of students. The classic example is the attainment gap between white and Black students, but you can have all kinds of gaps.

    This first one is across a single provider, and for the four lifecycle stages (this time, we don’t get access) you can select your indicator type and two indicators to get the gap between them (mode, and level, are at the bottom of the screen). When you set your two split, the largest or most common group tends to be on indicator 1 – that’s just the way the data is designed.

    [gaps provider]

    As a quick context you can look for “*” again on the provider name filter to get sector averages, but I’ve also built a sector ranking to help you put your performance in context with similar providers.

    This is like a cross between the single ranking and the provider-level gaps analysis – you just need to set the two splits in the same way.

    [gaps rank]

    Sign o’ the times

    The four year aggregates are handy for most applications, but as you being to drill in you are going to start wondering about individual years – are things getting gradually worse or gradually better? Here I’ve plotted all the individual year data we get – which is, of course, different for each lifecycle stage (because of when data becomes available). This is at a provider level (filter on the top right) and I’ve included confidence intervals at 95 per cent in a lighter colour.

    [gaps provider timeseries]

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  • OfS characteristics dashboards, 2025 release

    OfS characteristics dashboards, 2025 release

    The Office for Students releases a surprisingly large amount of data for a regulator that is supported by a separate “designated data body”.

    Some of it is painfully regulatory in nature – the stuff of nightmares for registrars and planning teams that are not diligently pre-preparing versions of the OfS’ bespoke splits in real time (which feels like kind of a burden thing, but never mind).

    Other parts of it feel like they might be regulatory, but are actually descriptive. No matter how bad your provider looks on any of the characteristics, or access and participation, indicators it is not these that spark the letter or the knock on the door. But they still speak eloquently about the wider state of the sector, and of particular providers within it.

    Despite appearances, it is this descriptive data that is likely to preoccupy ministers and policymakers. It tells us about the changing size and shape of the sector, and of the improvement to life chances it does and does not offer particular groups of students.

    Outcomes characteristics

    How well do particular groups of students perform against the three standard OfS outcomes measures (continuation, completion, progression) plus another (attainment) that is very much in direct control of individual providers?

    It’s a very pertinent question given the government’s HE Reform agenda language on access and participation – and the very best way to answer it is via an OfS data release. Rather than just the traditional student characteristics – age, ethnicity, the various area based measures – we get a range of rarities: household residual income, socioeconomic status, parental higher education experience. And these come alongside greatly expanded data on ethnicity (15 categories) and detail on age.

    Even better, as well as comparing full time and part-time students, we can look at the performance of students by detailed (or indeed broad) subject areas – and at a range of levels of study.

    We learn that students from better off (residual income at £42,601 or greater) are more likely to progress to a positive outcome – but so are students of nursing. Neither of these at the level of medical students, or distance learning students – but very slightly above Jewish students. The lowest scoring group on progression is currently students taught via subcontractual arrangements – but there are also detriments for students with communication-related disabilities, students from Bangladeshi backgrounds, and students with “other” sexual orientations.

    In some cases there are likely explanatory factors and probably intersections – in others it is anyone’s guess. Again and again, we see a positive relationship between parental income or status and doing well at higher education: but it is also very likely that progression across the whole of society would show a similar pattern.

    On this chart you can select your lifecycle stage on the top left-hand side, and use the study characteristics drop down to drill into modes of study or subject – there’s also an ability to exclude sub-contractual provision outside of registered provider via the population filter. At the bottom you can set domicile (note that most characteristics are available only for UK students) and level of study (again note that some measures are limited to undergraduates). The characteristics themselves are seen as the individual blobs for each year: mouse over to find similar blobs in other years or use the student characteristic filter or sub-characteristic highlighter to find ones that you want.

    [Full screen]

    The “attainment” life cycle stage refers to the proportion of undergraduate qualifiers that achieve a first or upper second for their first degree. It’s not something we tend to see outside of the “unexplained first” lens, and it is very interesting to apply the detailed student characteristics to what amounts to awarding rates.

    It remains strikingly difficult to achieve a first or upper second while being Black. Only 60 per cent of UK full time first degree students managed this in 2023-24 which compares well to nearer 50 per cent a decade ago, but not so well with the 80 per cent of their white peers. The awarding gap remains stark and persistent.

    Deprivation appears to be having a growing impact on continuation – again for UK full time first degree students, the gap between the most (IMD Q1, 83.3 per cent) and least (Q5 93.1 per cent) deprived backgrounds has grown in recent years. And the subject filters add another level of variation – in medicine the different is tiny, but in natural sciences it is very large.

    Population characteristics

    There are numerators (number of students where data is included) and denominators (number of students with those characteristics) within the outcomes dashboard, but sometimes we just need to get a sense of the makeup of the entire sector – focusing on entrants, qualifiers, or all students.

    We learn that nearly 10 per cent of UK first degree students are taught within a subcontractual arrangement – rising to more than 36 per cent in business subjects. Counter-intuitively, the proportion of UK students studying other undergraduate courses (your level 4 and 5 provision) has fallen in previous years – 18 per cent of these students were taught via sub contractual arrangements in 2010, and just 13 per cent (of a far lower total) now. Again, the only rise is in business provision – sub-contractual teaching is offered to nearly a quarter of non-degree undergraduates from UK domiciles there.

    More than a third (33.14 per cent) of UK medicine or dentistry undergraduates are from managerial or professional backgrounds, a higher proportion than any other subject area, even though this has declined slightly in recent years.

    Two visualisations here – the first shows student characteristics as colours on the bars (use the filter at the top) and allows you to filter what you see by mode or subject area using the filters on the second row. At the bottom you can further filter by level of study, domicile, or population (all, entrants, or qualifiers). The percentages include students where the characteristic is “not applicable” or where there is “no response” – this is different from (but I think clearer than) the OfS presentation.

    [by student characteristic]

    The second chance puts subject or mode as the colours, and allows you to look at the make up of particular student characteristic groups on this basis. This is a little bit of a hack, so you need to set the sub characteristic as “total” in order to alter the main characteristic group.

    [by study characteristic]

    Entry qualification and subject

    Overall, UK undergraduate business students are less likely to continue, complete, attain a good degree, or a positive progression outcome than their peers in any other subject area – and this gap has widened over time. There is now a 1.5 percentage point progression gap between business students and creative or performing arts students: on average a creative degree is more likely to get you into a job or further study than one in business, and this has been the case since 2018.

    And there is still a link between level 3 qualifications and positive performance at every point of the higher education life cycle. The data here isn’t perfect – there’s no way to control for the well documented link between better level 3 performance (more As and A*s, less Cs, Ds and BTECs) and socioeconomic status or disadvantage. Seventy two per cent of the best performing BTEC students were awarded a first or upper second, 96 per cent of the best performing A level students.

    This is all taken from a specific plot of characteristics (entry qualification and subject) data – unfortunately for us it contains information on those two topic only, and you can’t even cross plot them.

    [Full screen]

    What OfS makes of all this

    Two key findings documents published alongside this release detail the regulatory observations. The across-the-board decline in continuation appears to have been halted, with an improvement in 2022-23 – but mature entrants are still around 9 percentage points less likely to continue.

    We get recognition of the persistent gap in performance at all levels other than progression between women (who tend to do better) and men (who tend to do worse). And of the counterintuitive continuation benefits experienced by disabled students. And we do get a note on the Black attainment gap I noted above.

    Again, this isn’t the regulatory action end of OfS’ data operations – so we are unlikely to see investigations or fines related to particularly poor performance on some of these characteristics within individual providers. Findings like these at a sector level suggest problems at a structural rather than institutional level, and as is increasingly being made plain we are not really set up to deal with structural higher education issues in England – indeed, these two reports and millions of rows of data do not even merit a press release.

    We do get data on some of these issues at provider level via the access and participation dashboards, and we’ll dive into those elsewhere.

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  • The fifty per cent participation target is no more. Again.

    The fifty per cent participation target is no more. Again.

    Dare we say he felt the hand of history on his shoulder?

    In his Labour Party Conference speech Prime Minister Keir Starmer set a new participation target for participation in education at level 4 and above (including higher education, further education, and some apprenticeships) for young people. He said:

    Two thirds of our children should either go to university or take on a gold standard apprenticeship

    As subsequently briefed, the target (which replaces, somehow, the old 50 per cent target from the Blair years) relates to higher skills, either through university, further education or taking on a gold standard apprenticeship. It will include at least ten percent of young people pursuing higher technical education or apprenticeships that the economy needs by 2040, a near doubling of today’s figure.

    Alongside a restatement of recent further education policies (£800m extra into funding for 16-19 year olds in FE next year, and measures to make FE “world class”) Starmer couched the target in the language of “respect”, drawing on the now familiar tale of his father, the toolmaker.

    Because if you are a kid or a parent of a kid who chooses an apprenticeship, what does it say to you? Do we genuinely, as a country – afford them the same respect?

    The numbers now?

    We don’t really have the data at hand to judge progress against the target to date – we would imagine a new measure would be developed. The press release points to the most recent data we have relating to participation in any level four education before the age of 25 (CHEP-25 “all level four”): around half of the cohort that turned 15 in 2012-13 (and thus might have entered university in 2015-16) participated in the kind of provision the prime minister talked about. As this cohort turned 25 in 2022-23, we do not yet have data for future cohorts.

    In the last two recruitment cycles (2024, and 2025) 37 per cent of 18 year olds in England entered university directly from school via UCAS. This equates to 240,510 young people in 2024 and 249,780 in 2025 – out of an England domiciled 18 year old population of 650,710 in 2024 and 675,710 in 2025.

    In contrast just 15,085 adults (19+) participated in-year in provision at level four or above in the further education and skills sector during 2023-24. And there were 100,490 higher (level 4) apprenticeship starts in the same year.

    The uncancellable target

    It was originally proposed by Tony Blair during his 1999 leader’s address to conference that the government should have:

    a target of 50 per cent of young adults going into higher education in the next century.

    And this plan was reiterated in the 2001 manifesto, and the promise maintained in both 2005 and 2010 :

    It is time for an historic commitment to open higher education to half of all young people before they are 30, combined with increased investment to maintain academic standards.

    The original target date was 2010, but by 2008 then universities minister John Denham had already conceded that this target would not be met. And it was not met under a Labour government.

    It was never universally popular – in 2009 the CBI made a high profile call to drop the 50 per cent aspiration. Under Coalition Prime Minister David Cameron, then Business Secretary Vince Cable was the first of many to formally cancel the target. On 12 October 2010 he told the House of Commons that:

    We must not perpetuate the idea, encouraged by the pursuit of a misguided 50% participation target, that the only valued option for an 18-year-old is a three-year academic course at university. Vocational training, including apprenticeships, can be just as valuable as a degree, if not more so

    Which you’d imagine would be the end of it, a non-binding (it never featured in legislation) aspiration set by the previous administration rejected by a new minister.

    Cancel culture

    As the magic figure approached (the goal was achieved in 2019) the general disapproval of the long-scrapped target shifted into outright hostility. By 2017 Nick Boles (remember him?) was not outside the political mainstream in saying:

    The policy of unbridled expansion has now reached its logical conclusion.

    All to no avail. By 2020 the ever-thoughtful Gavin Williamson seemed he was making it into a personal vendetta:

    When Tony Blair uttered that 50 per cent target for university attendance, he cast aside the other 50 per cent. It was a target for the sake of a target, not with a purpose… As Education Secretary, I will stand for the forgotten 50 per cent.

    While former universities minister Chris Skidmore was characteristically a little more measured in his critique. Just about the only politician willing to stick up for the idea was Tony Blair himself, who in 2022 backed calls for 70 per cent of young people to enter higher education.

    By this point, Rishi Sunak had become Prime Minister, and was telling the 2023 Conservative conference that:

    As he renewed another familiar attack on “rip off degrees”. This brought about a robust response from Keir Starmer as leader of the opposition:

    I never thought I would hear a modern Conservative Prime Minister say that 50 per cent of our children going to university was a “false dream”. My Dad felt the disrespect of vocational skills all his life. But the solution is not and never will be levelling-down the working class aspiration to go to university.

    If anything, Starmer missed the opportunity at that stage to point out the volume of vocational going on in universities – but that probably speaks to the polling and public perception of “universities” that reinforces the challenge the sector has in surfacing it all.

    Delivery, delivery, delivery

    Targets and aspirations are all very well, but you would expect a government as focused on “delivery” as our current one to have a clear plan to drive up participation. And though welcome, the previously announced funding for further education is not it.

    Driving up participation to such a level is far beyond what can be achieved by tweaks around apprenticeship incentives or even the roll-out of the (surprisingly unpopular) Lifelong Learning Entitlement. We are promised more details about how it’s going to work in the forthcoming post-16 education white paper.

    History tells us that the majority of any increase in participation at level 4 will come from the efforts of our universities, through new courses and innovative delivery modes. And this will take participation in higher education far above the 50 per cent target.

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  • Better access to medical school shouldn’t need a deficit model

    Better access to medical school shouldn’t need a deficit model

    Patients benefit from a diverse healthcare workforce. Doctors, particularly those from disadvantaged and minoritised backgrounds, play a crucial role in advocating for what is best for their patients.

    The NHS recognises this, linking workforce diversity with increased patient satisfaction, better care outcomes, reduced staff turnover, and greater productivity.

    A promising start

    Efforts to widen participation in higher education began at the turn of the century following the Dearing report. Over time, access to medical schools gained attention due to concerns about its status as one of the most socially exclusive professions. Medical schools responded in 2014 with the launch of the Selecting for Excellence report and the establishment of the Medical Schools Council (MSC) Selection Alliance, representing admissions teams from every UK medical school and responsible for fair admissions to medical courses.

    With medical school expansion under government review, institutions face increasing pressure to demonstrate meaningful progress in widening participation to secure additional places. Although medicine programmes still lag in representing some demographic groups, they now align more closely with wider higher education efforts.

    However, widening participation policy often follows a deficit model, viewing disadvantaged young people as needing to be “fixed” or “topped up” before joining the profession. Phrases like “raising aspirations” suggest these students lack ambition or motivation. This model shifts responsibility onto individuals, asking them to adapt to a system shaped mainly by the experiences of white, male, middle-class groups.

    Beyond access

    To create real change, organisations must move beyond this model and show that students from diverse backgrounds are not only welcomed but valued for their unique perspectives and strengths. This requires a systems-based approach that rethinks every part of medical education, starting with admissions. In its recent report, Fostering Potential, the MSC reviewed a decade of widening participation in medicine. Medical schools across the UK have increased outreach, introduced gateway year courses, and implemented contextual criteria into admissions.

    Contextual markers recognise structural inequalities affecting educational attainment. Students from low socioeconomic backgrounds often attend under-resourced schools and face personal challenges hindering academic performance. Yet evidence shows that, when given the chance, these students often outperform more advantaged peers at university. Contextual admissions reframe achievements in light of these challenges, offering a fairer assessment of potential.

    Despite progress, access remains unequal. Although acceptance rates for students from the most deprived areas have increased, their chances remain 37 per cent lower than those from the least deprived areas. Research indicates that a two-grade A-level reduction is needed to level the playing field—an approach several schools now adopt. Other policies include fast-tracking interviews, test score uplifts, and alternative scoring for widening participation candidates.

    Not just special cases

    These processes, however, are often opaque and hard to navigate. Many applicants struggle to determine eligibility. With no single definition of disadvantage, medical schools use varied proxy indicators, often poorly explained online. This confusion disproportionately affects the students these policies aim to support; those without university-educated parents, lacking insider knowledge, and attending under-resourced schools.

    A commitment to transparency is vital but must go beyond rhetoric. Transparency means all medical schools clearly outline contextual admissions criteria in one accessible place, provide step-by-step guides to applicants and advisors, and offer examples of how contextual data influences decisions. Medical schools could collaborate to agree on standardised metrics for identifying widening participation candidates. This would simplify eligibility understanding, reduce confusion, and promote fairness.

    Tools like MSC’s entry requirements platform are a good start but must be expanded, standardised, and actively promoted to the communities that need them most. Genuine transparency empowers applicants to make informed choices, selecting schools best suited to their circumstances and maximising success chances. This also eases the burden on schools, advisors, and outreach staff who struggle to interpret inconsistent criteria.

    Ultimately, moving away from the deficit model toward an open, systems-based approach is about more than fairness. It is essential for building a medical workforce that reflects society’s diversity, improving patient care, strengthening the profession, and upholding the NHS’s commitment to equity and excellence.

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