I distinctly remember turning to my friend upon reading the 2024 Cherwell article on rustication and proudly claiming: “You know, I have never seriously considered rustication.” Lo and behold, my mental health had other plans. Thus, after a Trinity filled with multiple ‘Fitness to Study’ meetings – and much delusion on my side about my ability to continue my degree – I made the decision in the summer following my second year to take a year out of university. That decision happened almost a year ago. So as I now begin to prepare for my return to the gowns, essays, and bops that make up Oxford student life, I can’t help but look back. In doing so, I noticed that, before it concerned me, I never actually knew much about rustication. Of course, I knew of it – rustication is commonly joked about by students, for instance, when the thought of spending one more hour in the Glink becomes unbearable. But I never really knew the details. For me, rustication has always been something shrouded in mystery, with even the name itself being more intriguing than the reality of ‘taking a year out of university’. As a currently rusticated, soon to be returning student, this is my experience on what it is like to rusticate, and how to navigate the year ahead.
The first thing people might not know is how genuinely unspectacular the rustication process is. In my case, the build-up towards the decision, which involved multiple meetings with my Director of Studies (DoS) and college welfare staff, was much more complex than the actual step of rustication. In order to rusticate, I merely had to put a few lines together in an email stating that I would not be returning in Michaelmas. That’s all it took to suspend my studies. Once you have rusticated, there are certain rules you must follow. For instance, whilst you have access to Oxford’s libraries and SOLO, you are not allowed to be taught. The exact definition of what “being taught” actually entails is rather hazy, but it essentially meant that all preparation and revision I did was done by myself, and any essays I wrote were not allowed to be corrected. Yet this didn’t mean that my college left me out in the cold. My DoS was a godsend, and we had regular catch-ups to see how I was doing. My college, too, was very forthcoming and answered any practical questions I had. So, on the academic side, things went more or less as I expected.
What came as more of a shock to me, however, was the social aspect – or lack thereof – of rustication. Of course, I was aware that while I was away, the world would keep spinning and my friends would go on with their lives and graduate, but nobody can quite prepare you for what that actually feels like. Such an inexplicable feeling can only be explained metaphorically: I imagine myself and my friends on a train, one so fast moving that once I get off, everyone else keeps moving forward, and I can never quite catch them up. Although I anticipated the stationary, static nature of my year of rustication, I could not have foreseen the intensity of this. Rationally, you know that everyone’s lives move at different paces, but try watching everyone’s end-of-term photo ‘dumps’ whilst you are thousands of miles away without experiencing that nagging feeling of “I should be there with them.” One way I dealt with this aspect of rustication was by distancing myself. For me, this was simple, as I live abroad, so actually visiting Oxford was rather difficult anyway. However, in the age of Instagram highlights, physical distance does not necessarily mean that you will know less about what your friends are doing, without you, while you are away. So once everyone began studying for finals, I actively avoided social media, because I could not cope with seeing my friends graduate while I was still ‘stuck’ at home. To me, opening social media felt like the reality of rustication was being shoved down my throat: I am missing key moments with my friends.
That said, in hindsight, I do not believe that you should completely distance yourself from Oxford life during rustication. Even though they may be having a different experience to you, thousands of miles away, your friends at university are still your friends, and staying in contact is crucial. Ideals do not always translate into reality, though: staying in touch is tough. But even as an extreme extrovert, I found it incredibly difficult to reach out to my Oxford friends and, to be honest, I have a hard time explaining why. In rationalising my feelings, I think I was scared of being confronted with the fact I was not there. I was scared that phone calls with updates of college life would only increase my “I should be there with them” mentality. So I didn’t reach out. In retrospect, I think this was a big mistake.
When reaching out becomes a daunting task, it is incredibly beneficial to have friends who make that step for you and are the first to send the text or make the call. In this respect, my college wife proved to be amazing and I fully credit her for keeping our marriage alive this past year. It was she who made sure we kept in touch by actively scheduling weekly or bi-weekly calls. But what I am most grateful for is that she never spoke about university-related topics unprompted. It was only when I asked that she gave me details about her coursework, thesis research, and finals. It is difficult to articulate how these small acts ended up meaning so much to me. It meant I was able to chat about everything going on in our lives – dates, travels, drama – but I never had that “I should be there” feeling. University was not a taboo subject, but it was never the main topic. This, more than anything, helped me process the fact that my life was simply on a different timeline to hers, and to accept that there are now memories we do not share with each other. I guess, in a sense, this way of talking to my college wife gave me the closure I needed to start again next Michaelmas, without mourning the year I could have had.
This was one of the hardest parts about rustication and why it took me the entire summer to make my decision. I have always had a plan for my life and the fact that I was forced to take a step back from this was incredibly hard to deal with. More so, I mourned what I thought I had lost: my third year in Oxford, the times I could have spent with my friends, and the experiences we would have shared. The first loss is easier to overcome. While my year involved more therapy sessions and quiet dinners in front of the TV than tutorials and formals, I knew that I would be able to experience these upon my return. The fact that my group of friends would no longer be there to experience my final year with me was the real loss. A part of me thought that this lack of sharing milestones, like graduation, together would mean our bond would loosen and eventually break. But it was here that the calls with my college wife helped prove the opposite. By talking to her, I realised that the friendships you make at university are more than just experiencing the cult-like Oxford life together, and that they will last longer than it takes you to complete your degree – even if this is one year longer than planned.
