Why It’s Necessary to Fail at University

Jacqueline Wong on 12 March 2025

Failure is a word that comes with a heavy stigma. It’s not uncommon to hear students describe a low grade, an uncompleted project, or a missed opportunity in terms of “end-of-the-world” scenarios. What if instead, failure isn’t just normal, but indeed part of discovering ourselves?

University is considered a stepping stone to the “real” world, a haven that is both safe and challenging, made to whisk us out of our comfort zones. While academic and extracurricular achievement is more gratifying, the lessons learned from failure can be equally, if not more, imperative.

A Safe Space to Fall

Unlike the high stakes of professional life, university provides a relatively low-risk environment to experiment, explore, and, yes, fail. Choosing the wrong programme, underperforming in a module, or struggling with time management are common experiences. Though they might feel overwhelming, they allow us to reflect on our decisions, understand limitations, and reorient our goals.

To some extent, failure can be a recognition of one’s readiness for growth. Self-realisation is the first step to self-improvement. For example, if a student realises they have chosen a course they don’t like, it may at first make them feel lost. However, it opens up avenues for further study in other fields. Many accomplished academics and professionals have found their paths not through deliberate planning but by stumbling into them through the unexpected. Vera Wang, initially an aspiring professional figure skater, found her true passion in fashion design after failing to make the Olympic team, leading to the start of her career in Vogue as an editor and later in her life, becoming a bridal wear designer. The discomfort found in failure is necessary to push one toward one’s values and interests.

Personal Experience: When Fear Fuels Growth

As a journalism student, I felt this failure within me. My performance in practical sessions subtly conveyed that I wasn’t suited to work in broadcast journalism. On my first Newsday, I remember watching my coursemates excitedly rotate through different roles, embracing the chaos of a newsroom. When an opportunity arose for me to step up, I instinctively escaped to the washroom to make myself invisible. My discomfort extended to being on camera, where my mind would go completely blank. One time in my first year, it took me twelve takes just to say a few simple sentences. I thought I would improve, but even by the end of my second year, it felt like things never changed. While everyone around me was understanding, I knew I wasn’t the one they relied on. As I couldn’t be myself during these sessions or effectively contribute to my team, I began to doubt I belonged in journalism at all. With every passing week, that sense of inadequacy weighed heavy upon me, trapping me within the vortex of my fear and self-doubt. I deeply respected journalism as a profession, but I had to confront the reality that I didn’t see myself thriving in this industry.

This period made me more actively seek other opportunities and reflect on how my passion for storytelling – the heart of journalism – could manifest in different ways. My “failure” in broadcasting freed me to explore communications and public relations, where I found new venues for storytelling. This eventually led me to my current internship, in which my passion and career path have solidified. What initially felt like failure was in fact the catalyst in guiding me to where I needed to be.

Self-Discovery Through Failure

Failure is often the spark that ignites self-discovery: it gives us a reason to reconsider goals, values, strengths and passions. In trying, there is no guarantee that we will succeed 100%. A willingness to step into the unknown – an act of courage — is growth in itself. Appreciating ourselves for trying is an important step toward shifting our perspective on failure. Instead of rejoicing in the outcome, let’s celebrate the effort, bravery, and lessons learned en route. In other words, practice self-compassion. If a friend struggled, we’d encourage them not to be so hard on themselves. Yet, when it comes to our own failures, we tend to be our harshest critics. We are overly critical of ourselves for failing, but it is just proof that we cared and made an effort. Being kind to ourselves during these times, like how we treat others, makes room for resilience and growth.

The Lessons Failure Teaches

Failure teaches resilience. It’s an uncomfortable but transformative teacher, forcing us to confront what went wrong and how we might approach things differently in the future. Through failure, we learn to ask critical questions: Did I manage my time effectively? Was I honest with myself about my interests? Did I seek help when I needed it?

Failure at university also teaches us how to utilise systems of support. Whether it’s reaching out to academic advisors, forming study groups, or leaning on friends and family, learning to seek help is a skill that will serve us long after graduation. Many students are shy to admit they’re struggling, but most often those who do find a wealth of resources waiting to help them succeed.

Preparing for Life Beyond Graduation

Perhaps the strongest reason why failure in university is necessary is that it forms a preparatory mechanism towards inevitable failures beyond university life. Life outside the university bubble often brings higher stakes and fewer safety nets. Be it a job rejection, a failed relationship, or a personal project that doesn’t pay off, failure will always be part of life. The difference is that by then, we’ll have already learned how to cope, adapt, and bounce back – skills honed during our university years.

In the professional world, failure gets rebranded as iteration or growth. Startups pivot after unsuccessful launches, authors revise rejected manuscripts, and leaders learn from strategic missteps. These examples reinforce that failure is not a dead end but rather a detour, enabling one to reassess and try again with greater clarity and purpose.

Redefining Success and Failure

Part of embracing failure requires redefining what it means to succeed. A narrow definition seems to suffocate university students – good grades, internship opportunities, a straight path up the dream career ladder. Life seldom falls into straight lines, and success often means a learning curve – discovering what is not successful, the capability to set boundaries, or gaining emotional intelligence. These accomplishments, though perhaps not celebrated with the delivery of any sort of medal or certificate, are vital nonetheless.

This wider view of success is equally important for those already employed. Early career setbacks, such as failing to secure a promotion, finding a new role too difficult to master, or realising that a job isn’t the right fit, could be reframed as invitations to learn and discover. Most often, these instances constitute career changes or personal revelations which could not have occurred in the first place without encountering failure.

The Gift of Failure

Failing while at university teaches you that failure doesn’t define your worth or your potential; rather, it speaks to the fact that you dared to try. By accepting failure as a necessary step to improvement, we release ourselves from the burden of perfection and create an opening for teachings that can come only from failure.

Failure is an experience everyone goes through. The sooner we learn to handle it, the better equipped we are to face life’s blows with resilience and grace. Whether in the classroom, the workplace, or personal spheres, failure is not the end of the story but rather the beginning of a new chapter in self-discovery and growth.

Why Do Women Tend to Take on the Emotional Burden in University Relationships?

Maicey Navarro Griffiths on 10 March 2025

Whether in relationships, as mothers, care-givers or everyday life, the idea that women are socialised to take on emotional work is deeply rooted in historical, cultural, and social structures. This socialisation often stems from traditional gender roles that have been perpetuated for generations. Historically, women have been assigned roles related to the home and family care, which often included nurturing emotional needs. The idea was that women were “naturally” more compassionate, empathetic, and suited to care for others, particularly in intimate relationships and in the upbringing of children. Over time, these roles became ingrained in societal expectations. The assumption is that women are supposed to be the emotional caretakers of both children and partners, absorbing and managing feelings of others. Women are often expected to manage the emotional dynamics within their relationships. This can include managing the emotional well-being of their partner. 

In romantic relationships, women are often expected to be the emotional backbone, creating an imbalance in emotional labour. This socialisation, carried into university settings, starts from an early age where girls are often socialised to be “good listeners,” “empathetic,” and “caretakers”. Boys, on the other hand, are socialised to suppress their emotions and not express vulnerability. This reinforces the idea that emotional labour is the “female” responsibility. Because emotional labour is often undervalued and invisible, it can be difficult to recognize this work. It often goes unacknowledged, creating a situation where the burden falls disproportionately on women. Because of this unequal emotional labour in relationships at university, women can be mentally and physically exhausted. In university settings, where stress levels are already high due to academics and life changes, this extra weight can be damaging. Studies show that women are more likely to experience burnout compared to men because of these societal pressures.

When women are expected to constantly manage the emotional atmosphere, it can detract from their own emotional needs and well-being. In a university setting this can affect a woman’s academic and social life, unfairly affecting mental health, grades and social opportunities. Emotional maturity is a skill and responsibility that both men and women should embrace, especially in intimate relationships. Many women in university relationships can find themselves shouldering the emotional burden within a couple, often without realizing how deeply ingrained and habitual this is. The “Uni Wife” dynamic is when women do chores for men at university such as cooking, laundry, and cleaning. These pressures do not leave much space for the woman themselves to be emotionally understood or cared for. 

Whilst a woman is likely taught to understand a man’s emotional needs, a man can often struggle to understand a woman’s. This can result in them seeing women as “overreacting” or “overly emotional”.  According to Forbes, women tend to score higher in emotional intelligence tests compared to men. This is often because of a longstanding cultural expectation that women are the caregivers, emotionally and otherwise. Whereas men are encouraged to be competitive and confident, which can be seen as conflicting with emotions, thus resulting in lower emotional intelligence scores. 

However, men are also not given the proper support and teaching when growing up to be emotionally expressive. The phrase “man up” is often used to discourage boys from expressing vulnerability, creating a situation where men may not develop the same emotional maturity as women. According to a YouGov survey, over 60% of young British men feel pressured to “man up” due to damaging gender stereotypes and 55% said crying in front of others would make them feel emasculated. Studies have found that men suppress emotions more than women because they are not expected to show as much emotion as women. Being exposed to harmful reinforcements of traditional gender expectations, especially when in a new, scary environment at university which can arguably increase emotional suppression. 

Emotion is especially important to consider in the university context which is full of “lad culture”. Men are encouraged to be macho, making it unsafe to be emotionally expressive. University can sometimes perpetuate toxic masculine norms. So when men are in relationships at university, they may hide their more emotional side to fit in with the other men or culture around them. Thus, female partners have to compensate. The familiar saying, “Men don’t cry,” has long been ingrained in male socialisation, teaching them to suppress their emotions rather than engage with them openly.  

One of the most effective ways to challenge these traditional dynamics is through open communication. Partners should discuss their needs, and both should feel safe to express vulnerability. Men need to be given space and support to openly share their emotional side and not be shamed into concealing, and women should not feel pressured to take on the emotional burden. 

Words by Maicey Navarro Griffiths

How student life has been redefined post-COVID: Are we adapting or falling behind?

Hannah Bearne on 10 March 2025

The COVID-19 pandemic completely dismantled student life as we know it. Thousands of young people across the country were trapped in their halls and homes, completing work from the confines of their bedrooms. Can we still see the remanence of the pandemic’s destruction in student life today? Have the changes created by COVID-19 left us looking towards a better university experience or falling behind in the life we could have had? 

One of the most notable changes in the student social calendar post-pandemic is in drinking and nightclub culture—specifically the decline in the number of young people partaking in these events. The Guardian uncovered a shocking decrease in nightlife venues, from 1,446 nightclubs in the UK in 2019, to only 787 by 2024. The temporary closure of the industry during the pandemic has catalysed the decline and ultimate shutting down of many venues across the country—most recently the iconic Old Red Bus Station, loved by many students across Leeds.  

Publications like The New York Times have even discussed an epidemic of awkwardness brought about by COVID-19, with the social world returning not quite the same as before. Anxieties around social distancing and health problems likely had a considerable effect on these changes, with a recent Forbes health survey finding that 59% of respondents found it harder to form relationships post-pandemic. 

In a more positive light, the pandemic has had considerable long-term effects on the trend of reduced drinking habits of students and young people, possibly due to the socialising and venue restrictions in place between 2020 and 2021. These reductions in heavy alcohol consumption are still evident in young adults years after the end of the pandemic.  

Some research has found students swapping out the late nights at the club for early mornings at the gym, with health and wellness becoming an increasingly significant priority. One factor in this fitness kick may be the community feel of a group workout, with many students describing the gym as a preferred ‘third place’ after their home and campus. Regardless of whether students are using their memberships to socialise or hit the treadmill, there has been a surge in young people prioritising their mental and physical wellbeing since the pandemic.  

It’s clear that university life has been redefined post-COVID. However, whatever the extent of this change, Leeds continues to be one of the highest-ranking universities in terms of student satisfaction rates, and students worldwide continue to adapt to the ever-evolving university experience.