Celebrating the 60th anniversary of Brunel has got me thinking about when I first started work here as a lecturer, after a lifetime of being a working journalist.
I remember thinking that I could easily stand up and report back to a wall of all-male managers at a newspaper management meeting every week no problem. Could a roomful of students be any more difficult to handle?! The other thing I distinctly remember thinking the night before my first lecture was that I might ‘quite like’ teaching. I didn’t realise I would completely love it. It has honestly turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and rewarding parts of my career. I genuinely love walking into a classroom, never quite knowing what questions will be thrown at me. Sometimes they’re brilliantly insightful, sometimes they’re completely unexpected, and occasionally they leave me wondering if I need another coffee before answering.
The best part is watching students grow in confidence. Seeing someone who starts the term convinced they have nothing to say end up leading discussions or producing work they’re genuinely proud of is incredibly satisfying. Those moments remind me why I teach.
I also enjoy the fact that no two classes are ever the same. Every group has its own personality, sense of humour and way of looking at the world. I might be the one standing at the front of the room, but I learn something new from my students every year. They keep me on my toes and occasionally introduce me to things that make me feel about a hundred years old.
When I swapped the newsroom for the lecture theatre, I thought it would be a fairly straightforward transition. After all, journalism is journalism, right? It turns out that teaching journalism is a completely different story.
In the newsroom, everything happens at lightning speed. If I shouted to my reporters: “I need your story in ten minutes!” they would never ask for an extension – they just do it. At university, I’d gone from chasing politicians for quotes to chasing students for assignments, and surprisingly, the students were often harder to track down.
The biggest surprise has been discovering just how rewarding teaching can be. As a journalist, I loved telling stories. As a lecturer, I get to help other people find their own voices. Watching a student go from nervously introducing themselves in week one to confidently interviewing strangers or producing a brilliant feature by the end of the term is a fantastic feeling.
Of course, students also keep me humble. I’ve been asked everything from “Will this be in the exam?” to “Can I quote Wikipedia?” They certainly know how to keep me entertained. And of course I am old.
I imagine 60 years ago students arrived at lectures carrying three things: a notebook, a pen and an overwhelming fear of being asked a question. Today they arrive with a laptop, a tablet, two phones, noise-cancelling headphones, a water bottle the size of a small canoe and enough charging cables to rewire the National Grid. The notebook has disappeared. Students now take photos of my notes on the board in the classroom.
Then there’s attendance. Once upon a time, students crept in late hoping not to be noticed. Now they arrive 20 minutes after the start carrying coffee with the confidence of someone making a guest appearance on a chat show. No explanation. No embarrassment. Just an assumption that time itself should have waited.
The classroom has changed too since my day. Lecturers and teachers used to compete with whispered conversations. I find I am competing with notifications. Halfway through explaining the importance of impartiality in reporting, I can actually see someone’s smartwatch vibrating from twenty feet away. Within seconds there’s a ripple across the room. One student checks a phone. Another checks a laptop. A third has somehow opened an online shopping basket. By the end of the sentence, I’ve lost three people to TikTok, one to Deliveroo and another who’s comparing flights to Barcelona.
Technology has brought wonderful things, of course. Students can fact-check me in seconds. Occasionally they do. Usually, they’re right. I dislike that. There was once a glorious period when lecturers were assumed to know everything. Now we’re simply Google’s opening act. And don’t get me started on artificial intelligence. Students ask, “Can I use AI for this assignment?” That’s a flat no.
But despite everything, students haven’t really changed. They’re still nervous on the first day. Still convinced everyone else understands the assignment better than they do. Still discovering who they are. And, still capable of surprising you with astonishing creativity and insight just when you’ve convinced yourself they’re all asleep.
Every year they arrive speaking a language I barely understand. Every year they teach me new slang, new technology and occasionally how to fix my own phone. Every year I wonder if I’m getting too old for this. Then someone produces a piece of work that’s original, thoughtful and genuinely brilliant.
We run The Hillingdon Herald every Friday in our newsroom, and it is honestly my favourite day of the week. Students come in excited, passionate, ready to work and full of ideas and mad chatter. And I remember exactly why I do this.
So, thank you to Brunel for giving me a chance to teach these wonderful human beings. And happy 60th anniversary. Here’s to the next 60.
Read The Hillingdon Herald's special 60th anniversary edition here.