As someone who has just begun her studies at Oxford, I naturally spent the liminal pre-Michaelmas weeks scrolling through r/OxfordUni, trying to piece together what this city is actually like to inhabit. Somewhere amongst the many photos of shoes asking “Can these be worn with a subfusc?”, a comment appeared, claiming that private summer schools wearing branded college lanyards is a “worrying trend”.
“Are some colleges actually allowing themselves to be officially partnered with these parasites?”, the author writes. “[It’s] utterly unacceptable that the University is turning a blind eye to [it], all in the aim of a short-term boost in finances”
Nasty, yes, yet the sentiment reads sincerely enough to warrant a rebuttal. Some of these programmes charge upwards of £7,000 for just two weeks – not for real academic credit, but for ambiance, atmosphere, and the ability to say “I once studied here (sort of)”. You might not like it, but in an era of rising financial pressures for the university sector, summer schools are not just harmless – they are essential.
A quick refresher. During the long vacation, a number of colleges rent out their buildings to private summer schools selling the Oxford fantasy to those willing to pay, though none are academically affiliated with the University. A few danced a little too close to implying otherwise, prompting a 2023 lawsuit that now seems to require everyone to slap on a disclaimer: “not Oxford University, just Oxford grounds”.
Sure, these companies do name-drop liberally in their marketing (for instance “Summer Courses – Christ Church”) and, yes, their branding trades on the dream of brushing up against the institution’s legacy, but so does most of the city. There’s no real “partnering” here – just a rental agreement. In truth, it’s hardly a mystery what struck such a nerve: “it’s the lanyards, which will cause huge problems”, the author of that comment claims. This phrasing echoes the familiar rhetoric of panic around ‘intrusions’ into elite academic spaces, even when the access is merely symbolic, temporary, or simply bought. Those who turn their noses up at summer schools seem unsettled that the gates of the University’s perceived prestige appear a little too ajar. To them, it feels like a betrayal of the unspoken promise they grew up with (or absorbed in some other unfortunate way): that mere presence at Oxford would grant them a certain air of superiority and more social capital. Such an attitude comes across like a desperate attempt to restore the illusion that Oxford’s symbols of belonging – the lanyard, the subfusc, the hall dinners – should remain the privilege of a select few.
You might be surprised to learn that one of the University’s most prestigious colleges, the aforementioned Christ Church, is also amongst the most enthusiastically rented out. Few others commercialise their identity as eagerly. Add to that its reputation as a hub for future politicians – and you start to see a telling microcosm of elitism, a place where exclusivity is simultaneously protected, rented out by the week, and then met with a wince when someone actually shows up on the grounds with a lanyard. From a foreigner’s perspective, there’s something deliciously British about it.
Contrary to what the complaint on r/OxfordUni claims, the University isn’t turning a blind eye to any of this. The institution knows full well that those visible signifiers of quasi-belonging are lucrative and increasingly necessary, especially to bolster finances, as universities in England are seeing their incomes fall for the third consecutive year, largely due to steep declines in international student enrolment. Add to that a proposed 6% levy on international tuition fees, and increasingly hostile media messaging towards foreign students, and universities could face losses exceeding £600 million annually.
At Oxford, where international students make up 43% of the total student body, the estimated loss is around £17 million per year. Against this backdrop, summer schools, often dismissed as being a superficial academic cosplay, are beginning to look like critical ballast. They provide consistent, reliable cash flow, remaining one of the few scalable revenue streams left relatively untouched amid the government’s purge of anything resembling shared progress. The cash brought in by summer schools helps sustain not only the wider institutional functions but also the ceremonial traditions the University’s colleges are so revered for – ironically, the very signifiers of prestige students here are often so protective of.
So, to the students who scoff at summer schools, the next time you’re having your cake at a formal and trying to eat it too, do remember: it might just be the parents of a 16-year-old summer school student who paid for it.
