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    A Letter To: My tute partner

    Dear tute partner,

    To be honest, we all know you think you’re smarter than me, simply because you have your life together, play a Blues sport, hand your essays in on time, do extra reading, and make online flashcards for collections which you then confidently share on the group chat so we all know we’re failing. But guess what mate – that does not mean that you are better than me.

    Okay, so perhaps in academic terms you are, but for the sake of my already tenuous sanity, can we please acknowledge that my awful essays at least prompt some discussions? The fact that I somehow manage to balance academic essays with extra-curricular commitments and weekly outings to Park End Wednesdays and Bridge Thursdays is a feat in itself – so the quality of my aforementioned essays need not be criticised so severely. Besides, without my essays, our conversations would be unbearable. Your debates with the tutor might as well be in a foreign language, because I barely understand the words you say. I nod along to mask my confusion, but in reality, sitting in an Italian tutorial would honestly be more bearable, and frankly, I would learn more.

    Could you also stop pointing out all the flaws in my essays please? Okay, you were tasked with reading through them before the tutorial, but the fact that I don’t use the right ‘too’ (or is it ‘to’?) in the appropriate context doesn’t mean the content of my essay is wrong. And frankly, when I’m running the UN, I will have a secretary to write my communications, and she/he will know the difference.

    Also, stock-piling the notes of second and third years, whilst you embark on weekly trips to London, just isn’t fair. You skip all the irrelevant reading and write your essay ten times faster than the rest of us, whilst we slog through pages of incomprehensible academic garbage only to find out that it’s not even relevant. Sleeping your way to the top isn’t meant to be a thing, but sleeping your way to notes almost certainly isn’t.

    I suppose it’s some consolation that you promise to ‘look out for me’ in the tutorial, as I’ve done none of the reading and the tutor lost my handwritten essay (I slid it under his door – it’s not my fault if he lost it). But then, when the tutorial arrives, it’s suddenly very different… the promises of three minutes ago are forgotten, and in front of the tutor, you begin to systematically destroy every aspect of my being. By the end, I feel not only is my essay being questioned, but my character and integrity too.

    Outside of tutorials, you are a genuinely lovely and wholesome person, but when we step into that room you transform like Voldemort did in the rst Harry Potter lm. The wand chooses the wizard, but I most certainly didn’t choose you.

    All my love,


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