There is something I have struggled to comprehend during my time at Cardiff University. I walk into my 9 AM lecture and sit idly in my seat, as that barely push their way into my brain. I scramble to jot down a couple sentences that have actually made sense, before my professor hurries on, rattling through random bullet points on a slideshow that is at least fifteen years old.
An aspect of university that goes over our heads is that lecturers are not necessarily teachers, but experts who happen to relay their knowledge to a room full of eager youngsters, willingly choosing to be there.
Unlike school, university runs on the consensus of believed-to-be mutual interest; the student wants to learn and earn a degree, whilst the lecturer gets the chance to share their theories and groundwork. But most researchers have spent years of their life digging down into a rabbit hole of information that they struggle to get out of, forgetting that most people are on the outside.
Freshers stumble along to their first lecture in semester one and are suddenly thrown into the deep end, “being led by someone who has totally forgotten what it’s like to be an amateur. Being brilliant at a subject and being good at explaining that subject are two very distinct skills, yet university seems to treat them the same.
This is not always a dig to the lecturers themselves, but more the system that university thrives upon. As a research-focused university, lecturers at Cardiff are told to prioritise this. I’ve had numerous lecturers disappear for months, or even an entire year, to go on research leave, and in doing so, leave behind open-mouthed students, gawping at a subject they’ve only just started to sink their teeth into.
This means that teaching, and inevitably the part that matters most to the student, is completely sidelined. Lecturers are swapped in and replaced, contact hours are scarce, and the accessibility of information is lengthy and complicated; with the advice we’re given only putting more responsibility on the students, rather than the lecturer themselves.
And this isn’t even mentioning late feedback on assignments, as well as the second year-running of chaos following timetable delays. Even when I can actually grapple with the content, getting access to it can be difficult.
If, for some reason, a lecture is missed, it can be weeks before the recording actually gets uploaded to Learning Central, by which time the assignment is due and I’ve had to piece the information together from jumbled up readings and my friend’s badly written notes.
For students with disabilities or neurodivergence, this is far more of an inconvenience. Recordings are an essential form of access and yet, whether you get them depends on your course or module.
One student noted that whilst lectures being recorded shouldn’t discourage in-person attendance, they were a “useful tool” when you “struggle to take things in at a speed everyone else does”, particularly if you need “extra time to process information” such as those with ADHD or Autism.
We pay the same fees and work towards the same degree classification, yet the support we receive varies hugely from module to module, relying heavily on the individual delivering the content. One lecturer might update slides, upload sessions, and answer emails, whilst another does none of these; yet we’re all being marked on the same scale.
Fixing these issues doesn’t mean lecturers should be acting as one homogenous group. After all, varying lecturing styles, dynamics, and personality are a part of what makes a good lecture. But the inconsistency across this institution to provide basic levels of access and support is leaving some people behind in the dirt.
And many feel as though their voice and presence as a student isn’t enough to change that.