It is no secret to anyone who works in a UK university that our students are struggling: statistics from 2010-2011 suggest nearly 6% have reported a mental health condition. Confidential surveys reveal a much higher number; for example nearly 60% disclosed a mental health issue in 2002.
This is a worrisome plague for any academic who works closely with students and cares deeply about their plight. But I sometimes worry that amidst this tsunami of student distress, another storm is brewing which is less recognised and for which the mitigations are much less developed.
I am referring to issues amongst us academics ourselves. A recent survey on the mental health of higher education staff concluded that their mental wellbeing was poorer that what is seen on average in other professions. Nearly 80% felt that their mental health was not viewed to be as important for the university as productivity, with the same proportion saying they needed to “work very intensively often or always” and about half, facing unrealistic time pressures “often or always”. (I am surprised by the latter figure – who are these mythical 50% who do not?)
Anyone within the system will feel the truth behind these statistics, and will know someone who is struggling (or will be struggling themselves).
Meanwhile, a recent government report emphasised that many UK universities are in serious financial trouble, the obvious remedy for which is to admit more students. Yet if increased student numbers are not balanced by more academic staff, they just become straws heaped onto the camel’s back. Unfortunately, the opposite is happening: academic staff are actually being cut.
Like everyone else, I’m feeling the pressure. In fact, approaching a 20-year anniversary at my current university, I can’t remember any period when I felt more overworked and stressed: everything is more pressured, more critical, closer to breaking point. I know from the back channels and corridor conversations with my colleagues that we are all feeling the pinch, and some of us are struggling more than we might let on in public. In fact, I sense an undercurrent of danger in the current situation, and wonder how long it can go on. The university tries its best, suggesting “wellness initiatives” like growing tomatoes from seed or joining the college choir, but ultimately, the only thing that will quell this epidemic is an easing of workload. And I can’t see that happening anytime soon.
I don’t have any magic solutions. I think if you are struggling, you need to find someone to talk to – a colleague, a friend. Try to form supportive networks. No matter how underwater you may be, take the time to do things for yourself: sleep, read, exercise, be with friends and family. If none of this works, seek professional help, such as it is.
If you yourself are okay, keep an eye on your colleagues – often they hide their struggles, because we are taught early on in our careers not to show weakness or vulnerability. Secure your own mask, and then help others.
I still maintain that, despite everything, academia is one of the best jobs in the world. We are set loose in a garden of the mind and asked to harvest its fruits. Yes, we battle daily with pests and weeds and inclement weather, but every once in a while, something perfect ripens amidst the jungle of chaos, and the whole endeavour has been worth it. We just need to make sure that we can fight the things that stand in our way without losing the sense of curiosity and joy that attracted us to this crazy undertaking in the first place.
‘wellness initiatives’ are one of the less helpful things imported from the corporate world. Yes, we know you’re overworked and still behind target, but we’re just going to hire more HR managers and give a free ‘mindfulness’ session!
In working hours, in the office, when you could be doing something useful instead.
These days, it’s more likely to be an AI-drivel slide deck to read through.