International Tuition Fees: So Steep! · by Arpita Bohra

I write these words as I nurse a throbbing headache. My bed is strewn with glossy prospectuses of British universities. Those alluring, tantalizing hubs of knowledge, creativity and inspiration that beckon me to a land of dreams, with the promise of amazing courses that cover and include every thing that intrigues me.

After ten years in Ireland, as a primary and secondary student, the shift to my homeland India was an unexpected turn of fate. And so was my trust with the Indian education system. Coming from a system that valued individual perspectives, creative thought and flexibility in assessment, and being plonked into a school where memorization was all that mattered, was taxing, frustrating and still, enriching. As a carefree student in Ireland, who excelled academically, I became an “idiot” in the eyes of my Indian teachers who felt I was stupid, dumb and lazy. That year taught me to study, and not take my intelligence and memory for granted. That year was arid, in terms of learning concepts, ideas or theories. All I remember was memorizing facts, dates, formulae and chemical equations.

As a student of English literature in one of the top colleges in Delhi, the capital of India, and The hub for intellectualism, I dream of returning to a system that recognizes and nurtures my potential. Which actually celebrates it- instead of trying to warp it into its own ideals of apparent perfection. After I was disillusioned with the results of a class assignment, my close friend and fellow student, Rijuta , told me something that made me feel better. “Arpita, being a good student of literature is very different from being a good examinee. No one I know, will think so deeply and question our texts the way you do. But the system here won’t appreciate that. It wants cookie cutter answers, not innovation and individualism. You’d do brilliantly as a critic, but not as a student. ”

As pompous as this self-indulgent testimonial sounds, I’d like to admit that there is a grain of truth in it. Because, growing up in the systems I grew up with, thinking and questioning became a way of life. The freedom to interpret texts in the way you want, is simply not allowed here. I want to go back to a place where learning inspires me to grow.

So today, I went to the British Council Fair on higher education. I met a lot of helpful and interesting people, and found out all exciting courses that were offered. I was thrilled, yet apprehensive about returning to a system of familiar education. Thrilled, because, I would finally be in “home territory” again, when it came to learning methods. I could imagine having long, interesting discussions with professors, working on projects that inspired me and generally, being in a place of great cultural diversity and meeting a brand new bunch of people from all over the world.

The thing that started to bring on the panic attacks, were the fees. It cost an average of $20,000 pounds to study in the UK for one year. Twelve thousand pounds of that would be tuition fees. To pay all that, in Indian currency, would be a fortune. There is a handful of scholarships that are in the reach of “brilliant” students, who apart from acing the Indian academic system, are probably Rhodes scholars, etc. I clearly don’t fit into that category, and I’m not prestigious scholarship material. Call me defeatist, but I think I’m just realistic. There is a meagre chance of being granted a scholarship.
But I had my career and finances chalked out. Or so I thought. I would apply for an education loan, which would be easier, than a scholarship, beg my parents to chip in and go and study abroad. I would brave the cold, the homesickness (once again), the cramped accommodation, domestic duties etc. etc. I was ready to live off bread and water for a year, in the pursuit of education.

As a youngster, growing up in Ireland, I would see Indian students working in McDonald’s and gaze wistfully at me with my parents. I could see the forlorn envy in their eyes, and the lonesome homesickness. It made me glad that I had a home in Ireland, so I would never have to work in McDonald’s to finance my daily expenses and live off stray burgers. But then we moved back home.
And back in India, I have to make a choice. And I choose to sacrifice the comforts of a home, domestic helps, chauffer driven cars and home food, to come and brave it out in the UK, to live like a scholarly waif. I know it won’t be easy. I’ll have to scrimp and save. But I was ready to do that. It would be for just one year. After that, I would hopefully get a job start paying off my massive education loan in British currency, and return in a few years to work in India, having paid everything off.

Today I learnt that I have to leave Britain within a year of completing my education. Which means, I won’t be able to pay off my loans as easily as I thought. So after I’m deported back to India, I shall have to find a way to pay off my staggering loans, and save up for a house, and my own company. This made me extremely worried.

I also found out that almost all British students pay zero, or else pay heavily subsidized education fees. Some students, of UK origin, receive a sizeable maintenance allowance, too, apart from being exempted from the burden of paying for their education. It all comes from the massive fees levied on students of developing nations like us, who have to scrimp and save, and work hard to pay off the loans we take to fund our own education. Some people just have it so easy. The British system, quite legitimately, perhaps, funds its students from the hefty fees the foreign students are made to pay. And upon completing our education, we are diplomatically not permitted to work in the country, in order to reserve the jobs for British and EU students.

I just learnt too, that EU students’ are exempted from tuition fees. Having lived abroad, my sister and father are now legally “Irish” i.e. are naturalized citizens. Which means, my sister will not have to pay the tuition fee that I have to pay off through working.

If my father had applied for my naturalization, I would have been an EU citizen. I would have never had to worry about any scholarships, since my education would be free. I would also never risk being deported because work permits are easier to come by for those with EU passports. A little slip up, on the part of my father, had hugely taxing consequences for me. It made the difference between paying off a colossal loan, and fighting desperately to stay on and work in the UK, and having a relatively easy student life, being exempted from tuition fees and having no hassles finding work permits.

And yet, if I had an EU passport, I would have been funded by my own country. Instead of working desperately to pay off loans that somehow funded partly, other peoples free education. It would have been charity that would have made me guilty.

Homer, in the “Iliad” talks about the concept of there being “no other”. I realize that boundaries are self created lines that can make and break futures. But the boundaries of the EU countries have progressively become more and more permeable, which has profited each EU country immensely.

What the needed criteria from exempting me from paying these fees? A red passport ? Is that even fair? A few decades ago, before the EU laws were made more inclusive, EU students in Britain would have had to pay higher fees than the natives. But with the growth and consolidation of the EU, these barriers to education and work have been removed. There is greater freedom, opportunity and mobility. Effectively, the EU citizens are not seen as the “Others”. The distinctions are beginning to blur. But unfortunately, for people of developing nations like me, such privileges are seen lofty enough to warrant high fees. I wait for and welcome the day when the EU will become more inclusive to Asians, and education becomes a joyful opportunity, and not a burden. How long will that take? I’m not sure I’ll be alive enough or around to finally do the courses I want to. But maybe, someone else like me, will be spared the drudgery of working off massive loans, out of the passion for knowledge and education- something that deserves to be rewarded no matter what nationality you are, and not taxed. Perhaps one day, we will look back on these laws, and see them for what they actually are- a set of unjust and unfair restrictions put on young students who aspired to learn.

-Arpita Bohra