When I arrived at Exeter, expectations were loud. Fresher’s Week loomed large, the independence felt thrilling, and university felt like a clear break from everything that came before. My priorities became meeting people, joining societies and making memories. Academic success mattered, of course, but it often felt abstract - something future-me would have to deal-with.
By second year, my expectations begin to shift. The novelty wore off, friendships settled, and routines formed. Nights out become less about proving I’m doing the traditions of university, and more about who I actually want to spend time with. At this time, I felt that academic pressure sharpened too. My essays stopped feeling like practice runs and started to carry weight. I began to realise that grades don’t just exist on paper, they shaped my academic confidence, options, and self-perception.
This is also the point where I have found many students experience a quiet sense of disorientation. You’re no longer new, but not quite established. Expectations become internal rather than external. Instead of asking, “What should I be doing?” the question becomes, “What do I actually want from this?”
Final year has brought the biggest recalibration. Careers, further study, or the fear of having “no plan” take centre stage. Time has felt compressed. Suddenly, everything seems to have consequences: deadlines, essay choices, and even how I spend my evenings. My friends’ social lives often become smaller but more intentional.
Stress has changed too. In first year, my stress tended to be situational - homesickness, fitting in, and navigating independence. By final year, it’s been more existential. I’ve suffered from worrying about what happens next. The safety net of being “just a student” has started to feel thinner.
What’s striking is how rarely this evolution is acknowledged. We talk about transition into university but not transition through it. Yet recognising these shifts can be reassuring. Feeling different in final year doesn’t mean you’ve “lost” something, it often means you’ve gained clarity.
University isn’t just about accumulating knowledge or experiences. It quietly reshapes how we measure success, manage uncertainty, and understand ourselves. By the time we leave Exeter, we don’t just walk away with a degree, we leave with a grounded sense of who we are, what we value, and what we’re willing to let go of.
That change isn’t always dramatic. But it’s real, and it’s one of the most meaningful parts of being here.