We used large UK datasets to map how careers work in creative occupations, showing how having a second job is twice as prevalent in key creative jobs than occupations; mixing creative and non-creative jobs is normal, especially outside London; and having a non-creative main job and a creative “side hustle” rarely leads to a single full-time creative job.
Having multiple jobs isn’t a stepping-stone into full-time creative work. It is how creatives sustain their careers.
Who has two jobs?
We used the UK Labour Force Survey (2015–2021) to look at occupational and social patterns, and Understanding Society (2011–2019) for longitudinal transitions. We used the DCMS definition of creative occupations, rather than industries (so graphic designers working in retail are in, accountants working in theatres are out). We also developed a typology of multiple jobholding: portfolio (both jobs creative); main creative (creative main job plus a non-creative second job); side creative (non-creative main job plus a creative second job).
We found that having a second job is almost twice as common for core creative workers, (arts/culture production such as music, performance, visual arts, publishing, museums/libraries, film/TV/photo) compared to the rest of the workforce (6.8 per cent, against 3.5 per cent) but less common (3.2 per cent) for non-core creative jobs (advertising, architecture, crafts, design, IT). Some roles are extreme outliers, with relatively high proportions of actors (14 per cent) and musicians (12.8 per cent) having second jobs.
These proportions are higher than the general workforce, but they are also lower than popular discourse might suggest. This might be explained by how the data is collected (both jobs need to have been worked at during the same, specified, week). Even with this note of caution, the demographic patterns of multiple jobholding, and changes over time, give important insights into creative careers.
The type of second job held by people whose first job is creative is important. For those with second jobs, 38 per cent of those jobs are in other core creative occupations- true “portfolio” work. A further 27.5 per cent of those jobs are professional but non-creative roles, especially teaching and corporate training. And 25.5 per cent are non-creative, non-professional roles, for example retail, hospitality and admin roles.
Even more notable was the size of the core creative workforce whose creative occupation was a second job: there are far more people with a non-creative first job and core creative second job (about 113,000 per year) than there are core creatives with a second job (about 54,000 per year). In other words, where people have two jobs, creative work is more often the add-on rather than the main job.
What other characteristics have an impact?
Our analysis compared multiple jobholders to creatives with a single job, and found that combining creative and non-creative work is significantly more likely outside London. Outside the capital, sustaining a purely creative main job looks harder, and mixing jobs is more common.
Portfolio workers are more likely to be graduates and to come from non-middle class backgrounds than are single-job creatives. Side creatives are much more likely to be employees (rather than self-employed) in their main job, suggesting that it is more about balancing income volatility than it is about enjoying the freedom of self-employment. However, main creatives are less likely to be employees—reflecting the prevalence of self-employment in core creative roles. And side creatives are more likely to be men.
Part-time work signals both constraint and choice: creatives in multiple jobs are more likely to work part-time because they couldn’t find full-time work—but also more likely to say they didn’t want full-time, suggesting both labour market scarcity and preferences are in play.
Covid changed things, but did not totally overturn these patterns. In 2021 the share of workers making their living only from creative jobs fell, while main and side creative patterns increased—consistent with pandemic disruption pushing creatives to diversify.
Does a creative side-job turn into a creative main job?
After one year, portfolio and main creatives are somewhat more likely to move to a single creative job (45 per cent and 39 per cent, respectively) than to remain in their dual-job pattern (31 per cent and 36 per cent). Side creatives mostly remain side creatives – they rarely report a single creative job after a year. After three years, the pattern hardens: side creatives are still the least likely to have moved into a single creative job. Dual-jobholding looks like a strategy for persisting with a creative career rather than transitioning fully to a single creative job.
Policymakers should understand that dual jobholding is an endemic and long-lasting feature of creative work. It needs to be incorporated into “good work” policies, rather than removed completely from the creative economy. It can be an important counterbalance to income volatility associated with creative projects.
This research also has implications for one of the common measures of success for graduates, which specifies a good, skilled, full-time job. Creative occupations are counted as skilled, but the LFS analysis shows how difficult it is to find full time creative work, and that creative work is highly likely to be hidden behind primary employment in a less-skilled occupation. This means that in various places, including regulatory outcomes and league tables, there is a likelihood of positive outcomes for creative graduates being under-reported.
At the same time, policy must address the inequalities associated with creatives and second jobs. For example, the chances of making a living solely from creative work outside London are substantially lower, and London-centric career pathways are unrealistic for many during a cost-of-living crisis.
For many creatives, multiple jobholding isn’t a stepping stone on the way to a single steady role, it’s their actual career. It should not be understood as a failure to “achieve” a single creative job. It is a pragmatic but unequal employment pattern, which needs to be accounted for in industrial strategies.
I still remember walking into my first Association of Media Practice Educators conference, sometime around the turn of the millennium.
I was a very junior academic, wide-eyed and slightly overwhelmed. Until that point, I’d assumed research lived only in books and journals.
My degree had trained me to write about creative work, not to make it.
That event was a revelation. Here were filmmakers, designers, artists, and teachers talking about the doing as research – not as illustration or reflection, but as knowledge in its own right. There was a sense of solidarity, even mischief, in the air. We were building something together: a new language for what universities could call research.
When AMPE eventually merged with MeCCSA – the Media, Communication and Cultural Studies Association – some of us worried that the fragile culture of practice would be swallowed by traditional academic habits. I remember standing in a crowded coffee queue at that first joint conference, wondering aloud whether practice would survive.
It did. But it’s taken twenty-five years to get here.
From justification to circulation
In the early days, the fight was about legitimacy. We were learning to write short contextual statements that translated installations, performances, and films into assessable outputs. The real gatekeeper was always the Research Excellence Framework. Creative practice researchers learned to speak REF – to evidence, contextualise, and theorise the mess of creative making.
Now that argument is largely won. REF 2021 explicitly recognised practice research. Most universities have templates, repositories, and internal mentors to support it. There are still a few sceptics muttering about rigour, but they’re the exception, not the rule.
If creative practice makes knowledge, the challenge today is not justification. It’s circulation.
Creative practice is inherently cross-disciplinary. It doesn’t sit neatly in the subject silos that shape our academic infrastructure. Each university has built its own version of a practice research framework – its own forms, repositories, and metadata – but the systems don’t talk to one another. Knowledge that begins in the studio too often ends up locked inside an institutional database, invisible to the rest of the world.
A decade of blueprints
Over the past few years, a string of national projects has tried to fix that.
PRAG-UK, funded by Research England in 2021, mapped the field and called for a national repository, metadata standards, and a permanent advisory body. It was an ambitious vision that recognised practice research as mature and ready to stand alongside other forms of knowledge production.
Next came Practice Research Voices and SPARKLE in 2023 – both AHRC-funded, both community-driven. PR Voices, led by the University of Westminster, tested a prototype repository built on the Cayuse platform. It introduced the idea of the practice research portfolio – a living collection that links artefacts, documentation, and narrative. SPARKLE, based at Leeds with the British Library and EDINA, developed a technical roadmap for a national infrastructure, outlining how such a system might actually work.
And now we have ENACT – the Practice Research Data Service, funded through UKRI’s Digital Research Infrastructure programme and again led by Westminster. ENACT’s job is to turn all those reports into something real: a national, interoperable, open data service that makes creative research findable, accessible, and reusable. For the first time, practice research is being treated as part of the UK’s research infrastructure, not a quirky sideshow to it.
A glimpse of community
In June 2025, Manchester Metropolitan University hosted The Future of Practice Research. For once, everyone was in the same room – the PRAG-UK authors, the SPARKLE developers, the ENACT team, funders, librarians, and plenty of curious researchers. We swapped notes, compared schemas, and argued cheerfully about persistent identifiers.
It felt significant – a moment of coherence after years of fragmentation. For a day, it felt like we might actually build a network that could connect all these efforts.
A few weeks later, I found myself giving a talk for Loughborough University’s Capturing Creativity webinar series. Preparing for that presentation meant gathering up a decade of my own work on creative practice research – the workshops I’ve designed, the projects I’ve evaluated, the writing I’ve done to help colleagues articulate their practice as research. In pulling all that together, I realised how cyclical this story is.
Back at that first AMPE conference, we were building a community from scratch. Today, we’re trying to build one again – only this time across digital platforms, data standards, and research infrastructure.
The policy challenge
If you work in research management, this is your problem too. Practice research now sits comfortably inside the REF, but not inside the systems that sustain the rest of academia. We have no shared metadata standards, no persistent identifiers for creative outputs, and no national repository.
Every university has built its own mini-ecosystem. None of them connect.
The sector needs collective leadership – from UKRI, the AHRC, Jisc, and Universities UK – to treat creative practice research as shared infrastructure. That means long-term funding, coordination across institutions, and skills investment for researchers, librarians, and digital curators.
Without that, we’ll keep reinventing the same wheel in different corners of the country.
Coming full circle
Pulling together that presentation for Capturing Creativity reminded me how far we’ve come – and how much remains undone. We no longer need to justify creative practice as research. But we still need to build the systems, the culture, and the networks that let it circulate.
Because practice research isn’t just another output type. It’s the imagination of the academy made visible.
And if the academy can’t imagine an infrastructure worthy of its own imagination, then we really haven’t learned much from the last twenty-five years.
This blog was kindly authored by Professor Randall S Whittaker Principal and CEO Rose Bruford College.
London’s creative industries are not a cultural accessory; they are an economic engine. Around one in seven jobs in the capital sits within the creative industries, and if you include creative roles embedded across other sectors, that figure rises to nearly one in five. Almost a third of all UK creative businesses are based in London.
The UK’s creative success is no accident. It rests on a delicate, interdependent education ecosystem: specialist arts institutions; research hubs; and universities that together generate not only talent but innovation, identity and national soft power.
That ecosystem is under pressure. Rising costs, uneven funding, and the new fashion for mergers, the proposed “super university” being the latest example, are driving a wave of consolidation.
Why “super universities” miss the point
When two generalist universities merge, their academic portfolios may blend. When a small, practice-led arts institution is absorbed, it rarely blends; it dissolves. Studios become seminar rooms. Ensemble training becomes optional. Niche disciplines disappear in the name of efficiency. Scale rewards the generic; creativity thrives in the specific.
The Kent–Greenwich merger, planned for 2026, is being hailed as a pragmatic response to sector-wide financial stress. On paper, such consolidations look neat: shared back-office functions, pooled estates, a single regional brand. But higher education is not a spreadsheet exercise.
It’s understandable that, given Rose Bruford College’s geography — located between Kent and Greenwich — and a financial position that has been challenging but is now improving, some might assume that joining a “super university” is the logical next step.
Yet that assumption misunderstands what specialist colleges contribute. Rose Bruford’s strength lies precisely in what cannot be merged: its scale, its agility, its ensemble ethos, its craft-specific research culture, and its proven industry connectivity. The College’s recovery — from stabilised finances to a UKRI-funded research project and multiple national awards for both performance and technical excellence — shows that independence is not indulgence; it is impact.
The question is not whether Bruford can survive outside the merger, but whether the creative industries can afford to lose what institutions like Bruford uniquely provide. When specialist institutions disappear, we do not gain efficiency; we lose an entire mode of creativity.
There are, of course, examples where partnership has protected identity: the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire operates as an associate faculty of Birmingham City University, retaining its governance and character while sharing infrastructure. That balance, autonomy with alignment, is the exception not the rule. For most specialist creative institutions, a merger could mean absorption, not collaboration.
From curtain call to crucible
It remains true that it is a curtain call for the old, exclusionary model of time-intensive training that shuts out those without privilege or flexibility. What must be defended now is the right of specialist institutions to re-imagine rigorous training on equitable, sustainable terms.
Specialist creative higher education is not a conveyor belt. It is a crucible. To mistake it for a “skills pipeline” is to misunderstand its purpose. Specialist higher education institutions are not service departments for the creative industries; they are cultural forces — sites of disruption, experimentation and social imagination.
Graduates from these environments do not merely enter the creative industries; they redefine them. They found new companies, invent formats, challenge hierarchies, and expand who gets to tell Britain’s stories.
Research, re-imagined
Specialist arts institutions do not reject research; they redefine it. Practice is their laboratory. Performance, design and experimentation are their methodologies. Rose Bruford’s recently UKRI-funded research project exemplifies how specialist providers drive national innovation, producing knowledge that moves from rehearsal rooms to public discourse, from artistic experiment to policy impact.
The power of the specific
The reach of this work is visible every night on screens and stages.
Jessica Gunning, BAFTA, Emmy and Golden Globe winner for Baby Reindeer, trained at Rose Bruford.
Bernardine Evaristo, Bruford alumna and Booker Prize winner, saw her novel Mr Loverman adapted for television and a Women’s Prize Outstanding Contribution Award, recognising her “transformative impact on literature and her unwavering dedication to uplifting under-represented voices”.
Stephen Graham and Hannah Walters, who met as Bruford students, co-starred in Adolescence — proof that specialist institutions forge lifelong creative partnerships.
Sir Gary Oldman, Slow Horses, began his journey at Bruford and continues to define British performance worldwide.
Excellence extends far beyond the spotlight. At the Profile Awards, lighting design alumni Jessica Hung Han Yun, Sarah Readman, and Joshua Pharo, together with Joshie Harriette, all received national recognition. Hung Han Yun — also an Olivier Award winner for My Neighbour Totoro — shows how specialist training produces innovators whose artistry is both technical and conceptual. These achievements prove that excellence in production crafts is not ancillary to the arts; it is integral to Britain’s creative leadership.
Diversity and student choice
A healthy higher-education system depends on difference, in mission, in method, in who it serves.
If independent specialist higher education institutions disappear, the UK’s higher-education landscape flattens. The sector loses, not only training for performers and designers, but the pedagogical diversity that keeps higher education alive, the alternative modes of learning that reach students who may not thrive in traditional university structures.
For students, the consequences are immediate. Choice collapses from a landscape of craft pathways to a handful of broad “creative-arts” degrees. The student who might have trained as a lighting designer, scenographer or community-theatre facilitator is left with a single, generic option. In a system obsessed with “student choice”, consolidation removes the very choices that matter most — about identity, craft and form.
GuildHE’s recent Championing a Diverse Higher Education Sector manifesto underscores this point. It highlights the extra costs of small-class teaching and industry-standard facilities that specialist colleges cannot cross-subsidise, and calls for direct funding, reform of research and knowledge-exchange thresholds, and capital investment to secure the sector’s future. These are not indulgences; they are the practical conditions for diversity itself.
Funding reform is an investment in inclusion
What specialist institutions seek is not indulgence — and not simply more money to do the same thing. They seek resources that enable transformation: sustainable workloads, flexible modules, hybrid teaching, and equitable access, without sacrificing rigour.
As GuildHE notes, funding architecture must recognise that small specialist colleges cannot offset studio-based costs in the way comprehensive universities can. Reforming those systems is how government can genuinely champion diversity rather than merely declare it.
Starving specialist institutions into mergers is not efficiency; it is slow erasure.
A national imperative
Britain’s creative industries are a cornerstone of the economy and of international reputation. Yet the institutions that make that possible are treated as optional extras.
If independent, practice-led institutions vanish, we lose not only talent pipelines but the laboratories of imagination, the incubators of diversity, and the ability to renew what British creativity means.
Specialist creative institutions are not relics of the past. They are the crucibles of the future — where risk is rehearsed, difference made visible, and new worlds imagined into being. Fold them into super universities, and the loss will not be obvious at first. But over time, our screens, our stages and our stories will all start to look the same. And by then, it will be too late.
For decades now, professors have been complaining about the futility of asking students to write term papers, otherwise known as a research paper. In theory, research papers teach students how to gather a large body of information, weigh conflicting interpretations and come up with their own ideas about the subject, all while honing their writing skills.
But the reality is very different. The prose is usually terrible and the ideas a bad rehash of class lectures. Grading these essays is pure torture. Anecdotally, I’ve heard many say that evaluating papers is the worst part of teaching. If Dante had known about grading, he would have added a new circle of hell where the damned have to grade one bad paper after another for all eternity.
And now we have AI, or “artificial intelligence,” in the form of ChatGPT, Grok, Gemini and a host of other platforms. Submit a prompt, and these programs spit out an essay that, aside from the occasional hallucination, is actually pretty good. Grammatical mistakes are rare; there’s a thesis, evidence and organization.
Even worse, using AI for schoolwork is rampant in both K–12 and higher ed. As James D. Walsh puts it in his now-infamous New York magazine article, “Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College.” And it’s nearly impossible to catch cheaters, especially now that the airless, robotic prose that’s often a marker of an AI-written essay can be masked by programs that promise to “unlock truly human-like AI text.”
What to do? If you have a large class, interviewing students about their essays to ensure they didn’t use AI is impractical, and randomly choosing students to interview could lead to charges of bias. Besides, suspecting everyone of plagiarism destroys the class atmosphere.
My solution has been to replace the final research paper with a creative project.
Instead of a detailed prompt or instructions, I give my students very wide latitude to do, as the phrase goes, whatever floats their boat. Nonetheless, I still set a few parameters. They have to tell me several weeks in advance what they have in mind. They can’t take a piece of paper, draw a line across it and say, “Behold: my interpretation of Hamlet.”
I have only two hard rules: The project must reflect a good-faith effort to interpret something we’ve read in class, and they have to hand in a brief description of what they tried to accomplish. For those willing (most are), the students present their projects to the class during the period allotted for the final exam. Other than that, they do what they want—and I’ve gotten amazing results.
When I was teaching the literature of terrorism, one student happened to be going to New York for spring break, so she went to the Sept. 11 memorial and interviewed people. Another student composed a rock opera based on Thomas Kyd’s Elizabethan play The Spanish Tragedy. A group put together a postapocalyptic performance of King Lear on the heath, using the university’s loading docks for their stage. I’ve gotten raps, short stories, children’s books, parodies performed and written, musical compositions, and paintings.
For example, a student produced this project for my last Shakespeare class (reproduced with the student’s permission):
Created by Teresa Cousillas Lema
This pencil drawing represents the student’s response to Al Pacino’s delivery of Shylock’s “Hath not a Jew” speech in Michael Radford’s 2004 film, The Merchant of Venice. The three images represent the different emotions Shylock displayed over the course of his speech: rage, sadness, determination.
For the background, this student wrote out Shylock’s speech, thereby committing it (she told me) to memory. But this project represents more than a pretty picture: It demonstrates a profound response to Shakespeare’s words and Pacino’s delivery of them.
This project accomplished nearly the same goals a term paper is supposed to accomplish: reflecting on the material and responding to the play both emotionally and intellectually. As a final payoff, while most students forget about their term papers seconds after they submit them, I’m guessing this student will remember this one and carry forward a deep appreciation of Shakespeare.
Granted, switching to creative projects does not entirely eliminate the possibility of using AI to cheat. Students could still resort to AI if they want to produce anything that involves writing (e.g., a screenplay or a short story), or, for visual projects, they could use an AI art generator. But the opportunity to create something they’re invested in, as opposed to responding to the professor’s essay topics, reduces the incentive to not do the work. The project is something the student wants to do rather than something they have to do.
Yet there is something lost. When the creative project replaces the research paper, students will not have the experience of sorting through multiple and contradictory interpretations. They won’t learn about literary theory and different approaches to literature. And they won’t learn how to write critical prose.
In short, in my discipline, replacing the research paper with a creative project means moving away from teaching English majors how to be literary critics, and that’s not small. It means reorienting the undergraduate English major away from preparing our best students for graduate school and more toward historically informed response.
Nonetheless, it makes no sense to continue with an evaluation method that just about everybody agrees has long since lost its value. So I suggest abandoning the essay for another method that not only accomplishes nearly the same aims but, in the end, brings joy to both student and teacher.
Peter C. Herman is a professor of English literature at San Diego State University.
Every year, prospective students and their families attend hundreds of open days at colleges and universities around the world. These events are more than just campus tours and presentations. They’re often the first real opportunity for students to picture themselves as part of your community. With so many options available, the challenge for institutions is clear: how do you create an open day that not only informs but also inspires?
While the essentials, like academic info sessions, tours, and welcome talks, set the foundation, the schools that stand out go further. They design experiences that feel memorable, personal, and true to their identity. With the right mix of creativity and strategy, your open day can shift from being just another stop on a student’s list to the moment they decide your institution is the right fit.
In this post, we’ll share 10 practical strategies to elevate your open days, whether you’re planning in-person events, virtual formats, or a blend of both. Drawing on real-world examples, including some from HEM’s own portfolio, we’ll explore how you can highlight what makes your institution unique, harness technology, and add thoughtful personal touches that resonate long after the event ends.
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What Is an Open Day?
An open day is an event hosted by a college or university to give prospective students and their families the chance to experience the campus, meet faculty and staff, and learn more about academic programs and student life. Unlike brochures or websites, open days provide a first-hand look at the atmosphere of the institution. They typically include tours of facilities, information sessions, and opportunities to speak with current students and alumni. For many students, an open day is the key moment when they decide whether a school feels like the right fit for their academic and personal goals.
In the same vein, what are Application Days at universities? Application days are special events hosted by universities to help prospective students complete their applications on-site. These events often provide access to admissions staff who can guide applicants through the application process, answer questions about requirements, and sometimes even waive application fees.
In many cases, students may receive an admission decision more quickly if they apply during these events, making application days both supportive and efficient for applicants.
1. Showcase What Makes Your School Unique
Every institution has a defining strength, whether that’s a standout program, a strong industry network, or a vibrant campus culture. Open days work best when they put that strength front and center.
Build around your USP: If partnerships are key, invite industry reps to host networking booths or demos. If location is a highlight, include guided tours of nearby attractions. For research-driven schools, showcase labs or projects with real impact.
Spotlight distinctive opportunities: Feature sessions on co-op programs, study abroad, or unique facilities like observatories or art galleries.
Example: Royal Roads University: This university played to its innovative reputation with a campaign called “Future View.” Instead of relying on traditional brochures, Royal Roads launched live virtual tours of its campus and classes using GoPro cameras and Google Glass. In other words, prospects could experience campus through a student’s eyes in real time. As part of the campaign, Royal Roads representatives strapped on GoPros and Google Glass to stream lectures, walking tours, and Q&As, giving would-be students a first-hand look at life at RRU.
Static presentations rarely capture the imagination. What sticks are experiences where prospects get to take part, experiment, and play an active role. Today’s students, especially Gen Z, respond best when an open day feels like something they can do, not just watch.
Classroom-style engagement: Replace long lectures with sample classes, workshops, or lab experiments where visitors actively participate, such as robotics builds or art jam sessions.
Campus showcase zones: Let departments display projects in interactive formats, flight simulators, artifact handling, or student performances.
Clubs and student life: Involve student groups with mini debates, telescope viewings, or sustainability scavenger hunts.
Virtual attendees: Use polls, VR tours, or guided avatars to replicate hands-on engagement online.
Example: The College of ACES at NMSU turned its open house into a family-friendly interactive fair. Visitors of all ages could roam through live animal exhibits, tour science labs and museums, and try their hand at various learning games and demonstrations at each stop. From petting zoo stations with the university’s farm animals to interactive science experiments, the event engaged guests on multiple levels.
Your current students are among the most persuasive voices you can showcase on open day. While visitors expect polished messaging from admissions staff, what they really value are honest, relatable insights from peers who have lived the experience. Student ambassadors should therefore be central to the day, whether in person or online, acting as welcoming guides, storytellers, and role models.
Train them with talking points, but give them freedom to share their journeys authentically, from why they chose your school to how they’ve navigated challenges. Their warmth and candor create a sense of trust that brochures and presentations can’t replicate.
Example: University of Central Lancashire (UK):At UCLan’s open days, current students act as official ambassadors, easily spotted in their special red UCLan hoodies. These student ambassadors are stationed at campus entrances to give a warm welcome and directions, they lead campus and accommodation tours, and they hang around after info sessions to chat. Most importantly, they share authentic insights about their courses and social life – the kind of candid student-to-student advice that visitors crave. Attendees are encouraged to approach them with any question, no matter how trivial, making the whole experience feel peer-guided and relatable.
4. Involve Successful Alumni for Real-World Perspective
Current students show the “here and now” of campus life, but alumni networks embody the long-term value of your institution. Featuring graduates in your open day event gives prospects and their parents confidence that an education with you leads to meaningful outcomes.
Alumni panels, guest talks, or casual meet-and-greet stations can showcase diverse career paths, from industry and entrepreneurship to research and community impact. You might also pair alumni with specific program sessions. Imagine an engineering graduate now at a leading tech firm sharing how campus experiences prepared them for success. Even an “alumni corner” for informal chats helps visitors picture their own future through authentic stories.
Example:The University of Exeter organized a special alumni networking event in Ho Chi Minh City for offer-holders (admitted prospective students) and local alumni. This “Alumni and Offer-Holder” gathering (27 Feb 2023) featured an alumni panel sharing personal stories about studying at Exeter and their career achievements since graduation. Prospective students and their parents were invited to network informally with these alumni and university staff over a reception.
Parents and guardians often play a decisive role in a student’s choice, so winning them over is just as important as impressing prospects. A strong open day provides dedicated spaces and sessions tailored to their concerns.
Consider running parent-specific info sessions while students explore elsewhere. These can cover housing, safety, tuition, financial aid, support services, and graduate outcomes, offering direct access to staff from each area. Comfortable lounges, refreshments, and a “Parent HQ” make them feel welcome and valued throughout the day. Printed or digital materials should also speak directly to their perspective, highlighting career outcomes, security measures, and student support systems.
Example:At Cardiff University’s open day, for instance, they held a dedicated session titled “A Parents’ Guide to Higher Education,” where staff walked parents through supporting their child in the application process and beyond. Parents were invited to put their questions to a panel of university experts in finance, student support, and accommodation – essentially a frank Q&A just for them. The topics ranged from tuition fees and scholarship opportunities to the quality of campus facilities. This gave parents a chance to voice any worries in a forum designed for them, separate from their teens.
6. Personalize the Open Day Experience for Visitors
Students don’t all want the same thing from university open days, so personalization can make your event feel far more engaging. Use registration data to create tailored itineraries that reflect interests like intended major, extracurriculars, or career goals. Even simple touches, such as personalized name badges with a program of interest, help staff and ambassadors connect conversations to what matters most for each visitor.
Flexibility is also key. Offer a “choose your own adventure” approach where attendees pick sessions that align with their priorities, whether that’s a lab tour, a faculty panel, or a sports center visit. Train ambassadors to personalize on the fly, asking about interests and adjusting tours or recommendations accordingly.
Example: University of Cincinnati (USA):UC has embraced personalization in a big way. Their Open House events are described as “build your own schedule” experiences where each family creates a custom itinerary for the day. Upon registering for UC’s “Bearcat Open House,” students are prompted to select which academic presentations, campus tours, and special topics interest them. On the day, there isn’t a rigid tour everybody follows; instead, visitors might have a list like: 10:00 AM College of Engineering tour; 11:15 Residence hall open rooms; 1:00 PM Financial Aid Q&A; 2:00 PM Meet the Gaming Club, etc., based on what they choose.
7. Embrace Virtual and Hybrid Open Days to Expand Your Reach
What is a virtual open day? A virtual open day is an online event where prospective students and their families can explore a university without visiting campus in person. Typically hosted on a digital platform, it may include live webinars with faculty, virtual campus tours, student Q&A panels, and one-on-one chats with admissions staff. The goal is to replicate the open day experience digitally, giving participants access to information, interaction, and a feel for campus life, no matter where they are in the world.
Virtual and hybrid open days have become a staple of higher education recruitment, offering accessibility and reach that in-person events alone can’t match. A dedicated virtual event, complete with faculty webinars, student panels, and one-on-one admissions chats, can engage global audiences who might not have the time or resources to travel. Virtual campus tours, whether self-guided or live-streamed, keep your school “open” year-round and give prospects a chance to explore at their own pace.
Hybrid formats add another layer of inclusivity. You might livestream your keynote sessions, run interactive live chats for online viewers, or capture campus highlights to share on demand afterward. Interactive elements like polls, breakout sessions, and virtual “booths” ensure remote participants remain engaged rather than passive viewers.
Example: Brock University (Canada):Brock University has been an early adopter of immersive virtual open day experiences. One innovative approach they took was building an interactive online open house in a 3D virtual environment. Using a platform similar to a retro video game interface, Brock recreated key parts of its campus digitally and let prospective students log in as avatars to explore. When prospects entered this virtual campus, a simulated student guide (an avatar controlled by a Brock student or staff) would greet them and offer to lead a tour. Visitors could navigate their avatar through hallways, into classrooms and labs, and even chat when they “bumped into” other avatars representing faculty or current students.
8. Harness Social Media for Pre-Event Buzz and Post-Event Engagement
A strong social media strategy can turn your open day from a single event into a shared experience that builds excitement before, during, and after. Start with a dedicated event hashtag and use it across all promotions, encouraging attendees to post their questions and experiences.
During the event, showcase live content: Instagram Stories, TikTok snippets, or a feed of hashtagged posts, to engage both in-person and virtual audiences. Afterward, curate user-generated content into a recap post or gallery, and follow up with a thank-you message paired with a clear call-to-action, such as “Book a chat with a student ambassador” or “Apply now.”
Example: Lancaster University (UK): Lancaster provides a masterclass in using student-driven social media to boost recruitment events. In 2020, with in-person events off the table, Lancaster University asked its student ambassadors to create a series of fun TikTok videos as ads to generate excitement for its online open days. Instead of polished commercials, these were authentic clips following TikTok trends. Think students doing campus tours set to music, quick dorm room tours, or tongue-in-cheek “day in the life” sketches. The result? The campaign blew past expectations: over 10 million impressions and 90,000+ clicks through to Lancaster’s open day info page.
Sometimes it’s the little extras that transform an open day from ordinary to unforgettable. First impressions matter, so think about how your visitors are welcomed the moment they arrive. Clear signage, friendly greeters, and a thoughtful welcome pack with a campus map, schedule, and small pieces of branded swag can immediately put families at ease.
Fun moments sprinkled throughout the day also make a difference. A student band playing in the quad, a scavenger hunt through key campus spots, or a quirky photo booth at the student life fair can lighten the mood and help prospects associate your institution with energy and creativity.
Example: Temple College (USA):This community college in Texas put a delightful twist on their open house by setting up a photo booth with their mascot, a leopard nicknamed “TC Leopard.” Students and families could pose with the costumed mascot and snap fun pictures – a perfect keepsake to take home and share on social media. Temple College even turned it into a mini-contest where participants could win small prizes for posting their mascot photos. The result was a lot of laughter, and every family left with a tangible memory (a photo print or a digital pic) of the day.
These kinds of small but meaningful touches linger in memory. Long after presentations fade, visitors will remember how welcome, entertained, and cared for they felt. That emotional connection can tip the scales when it comes time for students to make their final choice.
10. Follow Up and Continue the Conversation
An open day doesn’t end when the last tour wraps up. In fact, some of the most important work happens afterward. A thoughtful follow-up plan not only shows prospective students and parents that you value their visit, but also keeps the momentum going as they move closer to making a decision. Too many institutions stop at a generic “thank you for coming.” By going a step further, you stand out.
Send a prompt, personalized thank-you. Ideally, within 24-48 hours, shoot attendees an email (or even a text message, if they opted in). Make it more than just “Thanks for coming.” Use merge fields to include the student’s name and perhaps one detail from their registration or what they did.
For example: “Hi Alex, thank you for visiting our Open Day on Saturday! We hope you enjoyed the Biology lab tour and the sample lecture in psychology.” This level of detail shows that you noticed their presence. Then, include helpful next steps: links to apply, to book a one-on-one meeting, or to a video recap of the event.
Example: Morton College (USA): This college nailed the follow-up game. Right after their open house, Morton College rolled out a one-two punch of follow-ups. They sent out personal thank-you emails to attendees, and at the same time, they put out a public thank-you on their social media pages. Importantly, it didn’t stop at gratitude – the post also included a next step, reminding students that registration was open for the upcoming semester and providing a link to get started.
Strong follow-up also means nurturing interest over time. Sharing student stories, reminders about upcoming deadlines, or invitations to future events extends the relationship beyond one day. In the end, what sets your open day apart is how well you continue to guide students once they’ve left campus.
From Open Day to Enrollment: Your Next Step
Open days (or open house events) are a cornerstone of student recruitment in higher education. They’re your chance to say, “Here’s who we are, here’s what makes us special, and here’s the community you could join.” By implementing these strategies, from showcasing your unique strengths, creating interactive experiences, and leveraging students/alumni, to embracing virtual formats, social media, personalization, and strong follow-up, you can elevate your open day from a routine tour into an unforgettable event that resonates with attendees long after they’ve gone home.
Remember, the goal isn’t just to convey information, but to make prospective students feel something: excitement about an academic program, a sense of belonging on campus, confidence that your school is the right fit, or the inspiration to take the next step towards enrollment. When you make your open days stand out, you ultimately make your institution stand out in a crowded higher education market.
Planning an exceptional open day does take effort and creativity, but the rewards are enormous. Many students cite campus visits and open days as the moment they “knew” which school was right for them. By following the approaches outlined above, you’ll increase the chances that your event is the one that wins their hearts. Good luck with your next open day event, and have fun making it one to remember!
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Frequently Asked Questions
Question: What is an open day?
Answer: An open day is an event hosted by a college or university to give prospective students and their families the chance to experience the campus, meet faculty and staff, and learn more about academic programs and student life.
Question: What are Application Days at universities?
Answer: Application days are special events hosted by universities to help prospective students complete their applications on-site.
Question: What is a virtual open day?
Answer: A virtual open day is an online event where prospective students and their families can explore a university without visiting campus in person. Typically hosted on a digital platform, it may include live webinars with faculty, virtual campus tours, student Q&A panels, and one-on-one chats with admissions staff.
Not surprisingly, jobs in AI are the fastest growing of any in the country, with a 59 percent increase in job postings between January 2024 and November 2024. Yet we continue to struggle with growing a workforce that is proficient in STEM.
To fill the AI talent pipeline, we need to interest kids in STEM early, particularly in math, which is critical to AI. But that’s proven difficult. One reason is that math is a stumbling block. Whether because of math anxiety, attitudes they’ve absorbed from the community, inadequate curricular materials, or traditional teaching methods, U.S. students either avoid or are not proficient in math.
A recent Gallup report on Math Matters reveals that the U.S. public greatly values math but also experiences significant gaps in learning and confidence, finding that:
95 percent of U.S. adults say that math is very or somewhat important in their work life
43 percent of U.S. adults wish they had learned more math skills in middle or high school.
24 percent of U.S. adults say that math makes them feel confused
Yet this need not be the case. Creative instruction in math can change the equation, and it is available now. The following three examples from respected researchers in STEM education demonstrate this fact.
The first is a recently published book by Susan Jo Russell and Deborah Schifter, Interweaving Equitable Participation and Deep Mathematics. The book provides practical tools and a fresh vision to help educators create math classrooms where all students can thrive. It tackles a critical challenge: How do teachers ensure that all students engage deeply with rigorous mathematics? The authors pose and successfully answer key questions: What does a mathematical community look like in an elementary classroom? How do teachers engage young mathematicians in deep and challenging mathematical content? How do we ensure that every student contributes their voice to this community?
Through classroom videos, teacher reflections, and clear instructional frameworks, Russell and Schifter bring readers inside real elementary classrooms where all students’ ideas and voices matter. They provide vivid examples, insightful commentary, and ready-to-use resources for teachers, coaches, and school leaders working to make math a subject where every student sees themselves as capable and connected.
Next is a set of projects devoted to early algebra. Significantly, research shows that how well students perform in Algebra 2 is a leading indicator of whether they’ll get into college, graduate from college, or become a top income earner. But introducing algebra in middle school, as is the common practice, is too late, according to researchers Maria Blanton and Angela Gardiner of TERC, a STEM education research nonprofit. Instead, learning algebra must begin in K-5, they believe.
Students would be introduced to algebraic concepts rather than algebra itself, becoming familiar with ways of thinking using pattern and structure. For example, when students understand that whenever they add two odd numbers together, they get an even number, they’re recognizing important mathematical relationships that are critical to algebra.
Blanton and Gardiner, along with colleagues at Tufts University, University of Wisconsin Madison, University of Texas at Austin, Merrimack College, and City College of New York, have already demonstrated the success of an early algebra approach through Project LEAP, the first early algebra curriculum of its kind for grades K–5, funded in part by the National Science Foundation.
If students haven’t been introduced to algebra early on, the ramp-up from arithmetic to algebra can be uniquely difficult. TERC researcher Jennifer Knudsen told me that elementary to middle school is an important time for students’ mathematical growth.
Knudsen’s project, MPACT, the third example of creative math teaching, engages middle school students in 3D making with everything from quick-dry clay and cardboard to digital tools for 3D modeling and printing. The project gets students involved in designing objects, helping them develop understanding of important mathematical topics in addition to spatial reasoning and computational thinking skills closely related to math. Students learn concepts and solve problems with real objects they can hold in their hands, not just with words and diagrams on paper.
So far, the evidence is encouraging: A two-year study shows that 4th–5th graders demonstrated significant learning gains on an assessment of math, computational thinking, and spatial reasoning. These creative design-and-making units are free and ready to download.
Math is critical for success in STEM and AI, yet too many kids either avoid or do not succeed in it. Well-researched interventions in grade school and middle school can go a long way toward teaching essential math skills. Curricula for creating a math community for deep learning, as well as projects for Early Algebra and MPACT, have shown success and are readily available for school systems to use.
We owe it to our students to take creative approaches to math so they can prepare for future AI and STEM professions. We owe it to ourselves to help develop a skilled STEM and AI workforce, which the nation needs to stay competitive.
Dr. Nadine Bonda, TERC
Dr. Nadine Bonda has worked in education for over 40 years, holding positions of Superintendent, Assistant Superintendent, Principal, Mathematics Department Chair, Mathematics Teacher, and Head of a school for students with dyslexia and language processing problems. Most recently she was an Assistant Professor at American International College. Dr. Bonda holds a PhD in Curriculum and Instruction from the University of British Columbia, a C.A.G.S. in Leadership from Boston University, an MEd in Mathematics from Boston University, and a BA in Mathematics from Regis College. She is chairman of the board of directors at TERC.
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Creative education is not a conveyor belt. It’s a crucible.
In the UK’s industrial strategy, the creative industries are rightly recognised as a pillar of national growth. But this recognition comes with a familiar risk: that education will be seen merely as a supplier of skills, a passive pipeline feeding talent into pre-existing systems.
This is a pervasive attitude, which so strongly influences the possibilities for students, they can be anxious about being “industry ready” before they’ve had the chance to explore or define fully what kind of practitioners they want to become. This is a reductive view and one we must resist. Creative higher education is not a service department for industry. It is a cultural force, a site of disruption, a collaborator and a generator of futures not yet imagined.
Partners not pipelines
Creative education does not simply serve industry – it co-shapes it. Our job is not just to deliver talent into predefined roles, but to challenge the boundaries of those roles altogether. We cultivate new forms of knowledge, artistic practice, and cultural leadership. As Michael Salmon has noted, HE’s relationship with the industrial strategy needs rethinking – we think especially in fields where “skills” are not easily reduced to training targets or labour force projections. Education is not just about plugging gaps; it’s about opening space for new kinds of thinking.
Christa van Raalte and Richard Wallis have called for “a better quality of conversation” about the skills agenda in screen and creative sectors. Their point that simplistic, linear approaches to “skills gaps” are not fit for purpose should land hard within our own walls too. We need a better quality of conversation around the creative skills agenda. Narrow, supply-side thinking is not only reductive, it risks cutting off the very dynamism on which the industry depends.
Our graduates don’t only “enter” the creative industries. They redefine them. They found new companies, invent new formats, challenge power structures, and expand what stories get told and who gets to tell them. To conceive of specialist creative HE as mainly a workforce provider is to misunderstand its essence. Our institutions are where risk-taking is possible, where experimentation is protected, and where the creative freedoms that industry often cannot afford are made viable.
Resistance from within
The danger isn’t just external. It’s internal too. Even within our own institutions, we sometimes absorb the language and logic of the pipeline. We begin to measure our worth by the requirement to report on short-term employability statistics. We are encouraged by the landscape to shape curricula around perceived “gaps” rather more than emerging possibilities. The pressure of metrics, league table and reputation help us to believe that our highest purpose is to serve, rather than to shape.
This internalisation is subtle and corrosive. It narrows our vision. It makes us reactive instead of generative. And it risks turning spaces of radical creativity into echo chambers of industry demand. It is a recipe for sameness and status quo, a situation many call to change.
We must be vigilant. We must ask ourselves: are we designing education for the world as it is, or for the world as it could be? Are we opening access, nurturing the disruptors, the visionaries, the cultural architects — or only the job-ready?
When creative institutions start to measure their value predominantly through short-term employability metrics, or shape curriculum mainly around perceived industry gaps, we lose the distinctiveness that makes us valuable in the first place.
We risk:
Designing education around current norms, not future needs
Prioritising technical proficiency over critical inquiry
Favouring students most likely to succeed within existing structures, rather than supporting those most likely to change them
If we define our purpose only in terms of industry demand, we abandon much responsibility.
From pipeline to ecosystem
What we need is a new compact: not “education as service provider,” but “education as ecosystem partner.” A pipeline feeds. An ecosystem nurtures, nourishes and grows.
This approach:
Recognises specialist creative HE as a site of research, innovation and values-driven practice
Treats industry as a collaborator, not a master – collaboration is especially present in research activity and creative projects led by industry professionals
Encourages co-creation of skills agendas, not top-down imposition
Embraces long-term thinking about sector health, sustainability, and inclusion – not just short-term workforce readiness
The creative economy cannot thrive without imagination, critical thinking, inclusion, and cultural complexity; all things specialist institutions are powerfully placed to nurture. But this can only happen if we reject limiting narratives about our role. The industrial strategy may frame education as an economic lever to support the growth in the creative industries, but we must resist being reduced to a lever alone. Meeting the opportunities in the strategy is both an invitation to engage with sector needs, help shape the future and a challenge to the cultures of training, pedagogy and research whose long roots exercise power in specialist HE.
If we want to protect and evolve the value of creative higher education, we must speak with greater clarity and confidence to government, to industry, and to ourselves. This is not about resisting relevance or rejecting partnership. It’s about ensuring that our contribution is understood in full: not only as a supply chain, but as a strategic and cultural force.
Importantly, we must acknowledge that our graduates are not just contributors to the UK’s creative economy – they are cultural ambassadors on a global stage. From Emmy, Oscar and BAFTA winning actors to internationally celebrated designers, technical artists, writers and directors (and so much more) UK-trained creatives shape discourse, aesthetics, and industries across the world. To frame their education in purely national economic terms is to limit its scope and power.
Because the purpose of creative education isn’t just to help students find their place in the industry. It’s to empower them – and us – to shape what that industry becomes.
The Trump administration is reshaping the pursuit of science through federal cuts to research grants and the Department of Education. This will have real consequences for students interested in science, technology, engineering and mathematics, or STEM learning.
One of those consequences is the elimination of learning opportunities such as robotics camps and access to advanced math courses for K-12 students.
As a result, families and caregivers are more essential than ever in supporting children’s learning.
Look for “problems” in or around your home to engineer a solution for. Engineering a solution could include brainstorming ideas, drawing a sketch, creating a prototype or a first draft, testing and improving the prototype and communicating about the invention.
For example, one family in our research created an upside-down soap dispenser for the following problem: “the way it’s designed” − specifically, the straw − “it doesn’t even reach the bottom of the container. So there’s a lot of soap sitting at the bottom.”
To identify a problem and engage in the engineering design process, families are encouraged to use common materials. The materials may include cardboard boxes, cotton balls, construction paper, pine cones and rocks.
Our research found that when children engage in engineering in the home environment with caregivers, parents and siblings, they communicate about and apply science and math concepts that are often “hidden” in their actions.
For instance, when building a paper roller coaster for a marble, children think about how the height will affect the speed of the marble. In math, this relates to the relationship between two variables, or the idea that one thing, such as height, impacts another, the speed. In science, they are applying concepts of kinetic energy and potential energy. The higher the starting point, the more potential energy is converted into kinetic energy, which makes the marble move faster.
Open up a space for exploration around STEM concepts driven by their interests.
Currently, my research with STEM professionals who were homeschooled talk about the power of learning sparked by curiosity.
One participant stated, “At one time, I got really into ladybugs, well Asian Beatles I guess. It was when we had like hundreds in our house. I was like, what is happening? So, I wanted to figure out like why they were there, and then the difference between ladybugs and Asian beetles because people kept saying, these aren’t actually ladybugs.”
In my research, being uncertain about STEM concepts may lead to children exploring and considering different ideas. One concept in particular − playful uncertainties − is when parents and caregivers know the answer to a child’s uncertainties but act as if they do not know.
For example, suppose your child asks, “How can we measure the distance between St. Louis, Missouri, and Nashville, Tennessee, on this map?” You might respond, “I don’t know. What do you think?” This gives children the chance to share their ideas before a parent or caregiver guides them toward a response.
4. Bring STEM to life
Turn ordinary moments into curious conversations.
“This recipe is for four people, but we have 11 people coming to dinner. What should we do?”
In a recent interview, one participant described how much they learned from listening in on financial conversations, seeing how decisions got made about money, and watching how bills were handled. They were developing financial literacy and math skills.
As they noted, “By the time I got to high school, I had a very good basis on what I’m doing and how to do it and function as a person in society.”
Globally, individuals lack financial literacy, which can lead to negative outcomes in the future when it comes to topics such as retirement planning and debt.
Why is this important?
Research shows that talking with friends and family about STEM concepts supports how children see themselves as learners and their later success in STEM fields, even if they do not pursue a career in STEM.
My research also shows how family STEM participation gives children opportunities to explore STEM ideas in ways that go beyond what they typically experience in school.
In my view, these kinds of STEM experiences don’t compete with what children learn in school − they strengthen and support it.
“we trained a new model that is good at creative writing (not sure yet how/when it will get released). this is the first time i have been really struck by something written by AI; it got the vibe of metafiction so right.” —X post by Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, March 11, 2025
I like to focus on whatever people are talking about most.
How long did it take you to write your latest novel?
Thirty minutes, but based on days of research.
Where did you get the model for your female protagonist?
She’s a combination of many women out there.
Do you revise a lot?
Only when prompted.
How do you deal with rejection?
I don’t take it personally.
Who’s your favorite author/book?
Too many to count.
Who are your major influences?
Any author whose work appears 1,000,000 times in a web scrape.
How do I get published?
Scan through the 729,567 publications out there and simultaneously submit to them all.
Who’s your agent?
Secret agent, agent of change, Agent Orange— Sorry, reboot.
If you were to give advice to a young writer, what would you say?
Read everything you can.
What’s your next project?
I don’t know—you tell me.
David Galef is a professor of English and the creative writing program director at Montclair State University.His latest book is the novelWhere I Went Wrong (Regal House, 2025).
We interviewed students currently studying creative arts subjects at a Russell Group university to hear more about their experiences of social class inclusivity. Speaking to ten undergraduate and eight postgraduate students studying a range of creative fields including music, drama and film, we found that working-class students find it difficult to attend class, are disadvantaged in terms of accessing the cultural resources needed to succeed on their course, and feel excluded from social life on campus.
Economic disadvantage presents a considerable barrier to students completing arts subjects at university. To be inclusive, university staff may have to adjust teaching and learning. We would like to make the case for those working in higher education to consider what classed assumptions are made about students in our institutions and accordingly reassess our expectations of those studying the creative arts.
Many of the disadvantages or challenges that working-class students face are connected to wider structural inequalities that are deeply entrenched in our society. At the same time, there are still meaningful interventions that staff can make to support working-class students. We suggest four ways in which university staff can make their practice more inclusive to working-class students.
Discuss working-class stories as present and live
Universities are middle-class spaces. In creative arts subjects, students often make work referring to their class identity. This can be at odds in institutions where middle-class experience is the “norm”.
Class diversity must be present within teaching. More working-class mentorship and role models would help students to feel like they belonged at university – including visiting working-class creatives. Our participants also advocated for contemporary working-class experience in the curriculum, in academic texts, and in the artworks discussed.
Staff must maintain a supportive and safe space when discussing issues pertaining to social class. Staff should also recognise that not everyone wants to talk about their background or experience. Additionally, staff must be aware of social class-based stereotyping that might exist in other students’ creative work, and be prepared to intervene when necessary if (often unintended) prejudices around work, class, accent, or lifestyle emerge.
Adapt teaching to the multiple demands on working-class students’ time
More and more students are undertaking part-time work alongside their studies. It is difficult to devise our curricula for only those students who can commit all their time to studying, when significant numbers are balancing their studies with multiple part-time, temporary and precarious jobs, or with care responsibilities.
Working-class and carer students may be commuting considerable distances to engage with their studies. This is creating a two-tier system of engagement, and many of the students we interviewed felt that teaching and learning on their courses was not flexible enough to support their participation. The same issues are present when students try to engage in extracurricular and cultural activities.
Working-class students asked for more online resources and access to course materials immediately at the start of modules, alongside concerns over early starts and late finishes and travel costs. They wanted permission to speak to staff about part-time work without feeling like they were “doing something wrong” or not taking their studies seriously. The normalisation of working alongside studying is something that staff may have to accept and work with, rather than try to push against.
Early intervention is important
The early stages of the student’s degree are a key time when social class difference and disadvantage is felt, with high levels of anxiety around finance and budgeting in comparison to more affluent peers.
Working-class students asked for the university to provide information to support their transition into economic independence. Examples include advice on budgeting, lists of free resources, inexpensive alternatives and free access to cultural resources.
Peer support plays a huge role in the transition to higher education. Working-class peer support groups and mentorship are as significant interventions to help.
Adjust assumptions and reassess expectations
University staff can make a difference to the experience of working-class students through simple adjustments of the assumptions we make.
Interviewees believed staff made assumptions about what creative arts students should know, or the kind of experiences they should have had prior to university. These assumptions corresponded with a more middle-class experience, for example knowledge of university life, or access to (and the ability to afford) cultural resources or engagement with extra-curricular activities. Participants were particularly frustrated by assumptions from staff that students could afford to pay for learning resources not available in the library.
Extra work is also needed to ensure that working-class or other marginalised students feel comfortable and entitled to ask for help from staff.
Because many students now must work alongside studying, students may have less time to complete their work outside of class. Stronger steers on the amount of time to complete activities and prioritisation of reading, and the removal of blame for those struggling to balance time constraints of working whilst studying can all be effective.
Working-class creatives
Class inclusivity means students feel like they belong on their course, alongside having the financial security to take the time and space to study.
This is particularly important in the creative arts because the more time and space students have to engage with their course or with extracurricular activities like arts societies, the more working-class stories will be represented in the creative work they make. Creative arts subjects must better support working-class students to engage fully with their studies – and not to be disadvantaged by financial pressure, lack of resource, or through feeling like they don’t belong on their course.
