By Augusta Osmatu Bangura (Expo Intern)
Somewhere right now, a young person is probably filling out a university application form, staring at a list of courses and wondering which one will somehow determine the rest of their life. Maybe they have already chosen their first choice. Maybe they are still asking everyone around them, “What do you think I should study?” Maybe their parents have an opinion, their friends have another, and they are somewhere in the middle, trying to figure out which voice to listen to. Some, however, might have not even started the application yet.
But eventually, for many of them, that application will be submitted. The waiting will begin, an admission letter may arrive, and then, suddenly, the thing that seemed so far away will become real: University. And when it does, they will probably arrive carrying expectations. They will imagine the freedom, the friends, the clothes, the lecture halls, and, perhaps most importantly, the degree at the end of it all.
They will probably think they know what they are going there for (bummer: lots of others thought so too). But if I could sit across from that younger version of myself, and perhaps from every student preparing to apply or enter university now, I would tell them something nobody really tells you at the beginning: The degree is not the whole point. In fact, if you spend four years only trying to get the degree, you may leave university with exactly what you came for and still wonder what you missed. Because there is a university playbook nobody gives you. It is not in the prospectus, not part of the admission requirements, nobody hands it to you when you submit your application. You have to figure it out while you are there.
So, the first thing the playbook should tell you is this: university will not be what you think it is. You walk in thinking you know yourself. You have big dreams and a quiet confidence that says, “I’m made for something more.” You may not know exactly what that “something” is yet, but you are sure university will help you figure it out… somehow magically. And then the first semester happens.
Lecturers talk faster than you can write. Notes are no longer given; they are hunted. The grades may be fine, but they do not feel like you. You sit in a class of over a hundred people and realise you are not special here, just present; a small dot in a sea of bright faces. And for the first time, you wonder whether you are here to truly learn or simply to pass time.
University has a funny way of separating being intelligent from knowing what to do with your intelligence. You can understand something and still struggle to explain it. You can get good grades and still have no idea what you want to do with your life. You can be one of the best students in your class and still be terrified when someone asks, “So, what are your plans after graduation?”
Now that the perfect University illusion has been shattered, let’s pull wisdom from the playbook, shall we? There are things you should learn deliberately because nobody is going to put them on your examination timetable. So, do not make the mistake of thinking that your grades are the only evidence that you are growing. They matter, of course they do. But university is also the place where you should discover what you can actually do. For instance, learn how to communicate. Learn how to write an email without beginning with “Good morning sir, please sir, I want to…” and then somehow writing an entire autobiography before reaching the point. Learn how to introduce yourself to someone you admire. Learn how to ask questions. Learn how to disagree without turning a conversation into a war. Learn how to speak when your voice shakes. Learn how to be curious. Because one day, your certificate may get you into the room, but your ability to communicate may determine whether you stay there. And graduation is not a magical doorway where someone on the other side is waiting to hand you a job because you have finally completed your degree.
That’s to say, try something that scares you. You may embarrass yourself. In fact, you probably will. You will submit something and later wonder what possessed you to write it. You will speak in front of people and hear your own voice trembling. You will apply for an opportunity and receive the beautifully-worded rejection email that begins with “Dear Applicant” and ends with “We regret to inform you…” You will survive, and then you will apply again. Because university is not only supposed to show you what you are good at. Sometimes, it has to show you what you are not good at first.
You may discover that the thing you thought you were naturally gifted at requires more work than you expected. You may discover another ability you never knew you had. Someone may notice something in you before you notice it yourself. Sometimes, that person will be a lecturer, a friend, a stranger who hears you speak for five minutes and says, “You should try this.” Pay attention to those moments. They may be small, but small moments have a strange habit of becoming turning points.
Then there are the people… Ah, the people! You will meet people who become family. People who will sit beside you through lectures share food with you when you are broke, remind you about an assignment you completely forgot existed and somehow become part of the memories you will carry long after graduation. You will also meet people who will teach you why boundaries exist. Some friendships will last; some will not. Some people will disappoint you, and you will disappoint some people too. You may fall in love; you may fall out of love. You may experience the kind of heartbreak that is technically not even a breakup but somehow still has you staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. wondering what exactly went wrong.
University does not teach emotional intelligence as a course, but it will give you plenty of practicals. And somewhere between friendships, heartbreaks, group assignments and awkward conversations, you will begin to understand yourself differently. You will also discover that being “grown” is mostly just being responsible for things nobody warned you about. You have to manage your time, money, emotions, deadlines, expectations. Sometimes, all at once.
You will learn that freedom without discipline can quickly become chaos. Nobody may stop you from skipping class. Nobody may call your parents because you have not studied. Nobody may chase you around campus asking for an assignment. That freedom is wonderful, but it’s also dangerous. Because eventually, you realise that nobody is coming to save you from your own decisions. And perhaps that is where university begins to feel less like school and more like life.
You begin to understand that effort does not always produce immediate results. Sometimes you work hard and still fail. Sometimes you do everything right and someone else gets the opportunity. Sometimes you watch your friends move ahead while you feel stuck. That can hurt. But it can also teach you something grades cannot: how to keep going when being good at something is no longer enough.
And by the end, you’ve grown in ways no syllabus could predict. You’re braver, more confident, a little messier, much stronger, you speak more, you doubt less, or at least, you doubt smarter. You can hold a conversation, you can take up space without apologizing, you stop waiting to be chosen and start choosing yourself. And somewhere along the way, the person who walked in fades, leaving a more complex, battle-tested version behind.
With that I say, university isn’t just a place you attend, it’s a place that edits you. So, if you thought university was only about grades, friends, freedom, or the experience? Think again. Because it’s about becoming, about finding yourself in lecture halls, competitions, heartbreaks, group works, late nights studies, and moments you didn’t think mattered. And if you pay attention, if you show up, if you allow yourself grow… you leave with more than a degree. You leave with yourself!
Copyright –Published in Expo Times News on Wednesday, 12th August 2026 (ExpoTimes News – Expo Media Group (expomediasl.com)
