What is ‘Working Hard’?

What’s black, white, red all over and inconclusive? MY DISSERTATION

I’m sitting in a silent working area on campus. I’ve had the five disparate and red-streaked documents that currently make up my dissertation open for about 45 minutes. I am fidgeting on my swivel chair and listening to The Wonder Stuff while reading an interesting section on the Guardian website called GenerationY which focusses on graduate unemployment and money saving.

A girl sits down at the desk next to me. Naturally my eyes are immediately drawn to her computer screen instead of mine, and glancing over, I witness something extraordinary. The first window she opens is not Twitter, or Spotify or her emails. It’s not even the internet. It’s her work. Pages and pages of writing and journal articles. Five minutes at her desk and she’s in the zone. Staring at her screen, typing away. I look at her distrustfully for a couple of moments, unsure if I’m jealous or actively judging this girl for her dedication to her studies. ‘Swot’ the –rather large – section of my brain that still feels about 15 says.   

No matter how long I look at it, the red bits never go away

I sometimes wonder whether I’m hard-working or not. My flatmate used the word to describe me recently, and I was greatly taken aback. I briefly became slightly neurotic about the concept, trying to identify precisely what makes one a hard-working student. What actions of mine had led her to the conclusion that I, Siobhan haven’t-finished-a-book-all-year Palmer, am hard-working? What constitutes ‘working hard’, or ‘working hard’ enough? Hours spent in the library? Not taking a break to watch the Dancing on Ice final? What level of anti-social study is necessary to justify my position as full-time student?

I am constantly faced with two opposing angles on how ‘hard’ undergraduate study is. Many of my uni friends are experiencing high levels of stress, putting their degree (and the right classification) above anything else. And I suppose it is technically our profession. But is comparing university education with full time work really useful? Many ‘hard-working’ friends of mine seem to be living by the principle that we can have social-lives, alcohol, relationships after our course ends. I can't help worrying that that kind of outlook will leave us feeling drastically conned come summer. Isn't the world of employment where control over our own time stops?

When I leave the student bubble, go home to my job as a barmaid and explain to the locals what I’m doing with my life, I'm given the impression that uni is actually akin to ‘time off’. My chance to socialize and have fun before joining the real world. A holiday. People make jokes about daytime tv and long holidays and I laugh along and tell them my English degree consists of between 4 and 6 hours of lectures a week. But I worry about what's genuinely valued more, earning money pulling pints, or using loans to finance a degree from a Russell Group uni. My older coworkers reminisce about that time they started their dissertation the week before the deadline and spent three straight days in a pub. They never recall stress and hardship, like their degree was the pinnacle of their intellectual existence. So what am I doing right now? I’m comfortably passing my degree, but what is that? Am I working hard or having fun?

We seem to define everything in relation to some sort of absolute, like working hard is something you are, not something you do. And this absolute is generally connected to a job or the world of work. ‘The real world’ gives us a standard by which to measure how hard we are working: our earnings. The supposed logic is if you’re making £40,000 a year, you must be working hard because you have money to show for it. Maybe that’s why I seem to have no idea how ‘hard’ I’m working towards this degree. I have no direct, correlative measure of that work. I can’t be fired from study. My intelligence and ability can only really be measured against myself. And it’s blindingly obvious that just because I achieved a 2:1 in an essay does not necessarily mean I worked ‘hard enough’. It’s strange that the equivalent, that a 40k salary doesn’t automatically speak for how hard you work, is not so obvious a fact.  

There’s no objective measure for ‘hard work’, in any context. In the student environment, this makes many people neurotic and anxious, because there’s no limit on what you can or can’t be doing. No compulsory working day to fit your study into, or even an official purpose or end-point for what we might be trying to achieve. The fact that the main word attached to graduates these days seems to be ‘unemployment’ speaks to this. Returns are, despite what many people say, not always representative of effort invested. 

It’s a pervasive idea that hardworking is a state of being rather than an action, and this grates on me slightly, especially when it's attached or detached from whole sections of society, like students or bingo players. I think it’s a dangerous notion by which to measure yourself as a person. I turn off The Wonder Stuff. And turn on The Fall. I suppose the answer to whether these are the days I worked really hard or had the most fun ever can only be arrived at in retrospect.While I read about youth disengagement and how to eat on a budget, is whether I’m sufficiently justifying my 4 year stint in higher education through library hours really the biggest of my worries? I shouldn’t have to treat my degree like a full-time job. In a few months’ time, employers sure as hell won’t. 

In a few months time I'll be one of these. If I get my dissertation done and stop writing blogs.

Back To School

Would you look at that. It’s been a WHOLE YEAR since I started my blog! Happy Birthday Blog! It’s nice to think that this little site has now kind of tracked an entire year of my life. And an exciting year at that. With this in mind, I’m going to try and update it more often, so I have more to look back on when I’m old and boring and grey.

Starting blog-year 2 off with a BANG:

It’s 9.30 on a Sunday night. I’m curled up in bed wondering whether to finish reading Henry VI, or to watch a tv programme before I go to bed. If I decide to watch something, I’ll have to choose between the new Attenborough show about the rise of vertebrates, and the documentary about giant animals with Steve Backshall…

Cosy as I am, I can’t pretend this how I imagined I would be spending the night before my first day back at university. My overriding memories from first and second year consist mainly of painting my face like various different animals, and after a few beers roaring ferociously at anyone I met. Apart from that time I dressed up as a zebra…

Today I have divided a 100 page course-pack into sections and bound each one neatly with string, eaten 1 malteasers bar and half a bag of chocolate eclairs, read and made notes on a middle English York Mystery Play, done lots of ambigious ‘computer stuff’, and decided that strumming without a plectrum definitely sounds better when playing ‘Other Side of the World’ on guitar. Oh, and I walked to the postbox. It’s at the bottom of my road.

Had I, all that time ago back in August, followed some crazy reckless abandon and refused to register to come back for my final year of uni, my day would probably have gone very differently. I would have gone to work for the seventh day of the week and run around behind a bar for 6 hours. Then, due to my living quarters being slightly cramped, probably opted to spend the evening in another pub before skipping tipsily home around 11 and setting my alarm for 7.30 to get up for job number 2 on Monday morning. It’s a slightly different lifestyle. I would have eaten less food, and spoken to more people. I would also have read less, and played less music. I would have gone further than the end of my road. Rather than walking to the postbox, I would probably have looked guiltily in passing at a pile of letters and papers yet to be written on and sorted out.

When you come home from work and turn on the tv, you don’t have a constant nagging feeling that you should be doing something else. Here, with two dissertations to write and over 40 Shakespeare texts to cover in 20 weeks, there’s always something else I could be doing. I don’t know which I prefer. They say that spending a year out is a good thing to do, because it makes you appreciate education more. I'm not sure working has made me appreciate education more, but it may have made me appreciate midday starts and student discounts more. I can’t help wondering how many of the things my lecturers say next week will strike me as impractical academic bullshit.  

That said, did you know that H.D. was sent from London to Austria and referred to Sigmund Freud in 1933 due to her increasing paranoia about the Nazis and Adolf Hitler? I found that out this week. Some of the politicians at the time might have benefited from the same condition! I can feel I’m getting my geek on already.

My first seminar is tomorrow. Having been away for a year, it’s unlikely I will know anybody in it. I also have my first meeting back at the uni newspaper tomorrow, and a trial shift in a local bar next week. Give it a month or so and hopefully I will have got myself a nice (but probably reasonably unstable) balance of the two. 

Culture, Innit.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been involved with Birmingham 2022, a project connected with the new library of Birmingham. I’m one of about 15 young people involved with various creative industries have been recruited to partake in meet-ups and an intensive summer school, where we will curate and produce an online blog and print magazine for the Discovery Festival (which runs in tandem with the opening of the library in September).

Oosh, didn’t that sound pretentious and bullshit?! There’s a load more where that came from: prepare yourselves for a reflective post about my life aims, full of words like ‘determination’ ‘passion’ and ‘creativity’!

On top of just making the magazine, another aspect of the project is to look ahead, and discuss what the arts and culture industry is going to look like (particularly in Birmingham) in 10 years’ time. How it will be impacted by modernization, trends, technology, politics, and much more. To this end, we've spoken to a ‘trend forecaster’ (yep, told you to prepare yourself!) William Higham about how to predict cultural trends, and the last session was a ‘cultural meet-up’, where we held a discussion about arts and culture industry with a panel of people from various creative backgrounds: RuthClaxton (Director of Eastside Projects and practising artist), Noel Dunne (involved with an organisation that offers advice and guidance for Birmingham’s emerging creative talent), Dan Whitehouse (the Next Generation producer at Mac, Birmingham) and Katie Banks (Head of Education and Community at Town Hall and Symphony Hall).

So far, I’ve found this project to be a great little peephole into the world of arts and culture. It was interesting to meet people who have made their careers in such a precarious industry, and talk to them about how they became successful; what the realities of the sector are, and what they think and feel about the future.

I’m tempted to describe arts and culture as something ‘I’ve wanted to work in all my life’. But, apart from being an over-used and cringe-worthy phrase, I also don’t think it’s true. The determination to do something creative in the future has only really come to me in the last year or so; since going to the States. Only recently have I managed to shake off some instincts which I think are especially ingrained in my generation. Being born at the tail end of Thatcherism meant that we were brought up seeing the mass-firings and downsizings of the 90s as normal procedure. Growing up, we knew that profits were king; that workers were replaceable, and quick hirings and firings were a company’s right; that to make money, you had to get an impeccable skillset tailored to a specific profession, because unique talents are pointless. So no, I didn’t have a lot of drive to be creative. More an anxious scrabble to discover perfect office role for me, one I just couldn’t have heard of yet.

Since the 80s and 90s, ‘corporate’ seems to have become in itself a compliment; a byword for ‘efficient’ and ‘good’. The financial crash happening the year we took our GCSE’s, and the UKs austerity measures being introduced the year we did our A-Levels, meant our schooling too, emphasised in us the importance of getting a ‘real’, ‘paying’ job, and encouraged us to see stable industries like banking and business (ironically) as the only viable sector. Because despite the crash, they still made the most money. Even now, despite not claiming any welfare, and being able to afford to do exciting, voluntary positions, I still feel a slight sense of guilt, and of uselessness, if I’m not earning. Arts and Culture seemed to me to be this amazing working environment, but never something to aim for. For people growing up shit-scared of not having any money at all, an industry where actually earning a living from your profession is one of the biggest obstacles made it an unthinkable career option.

 After talking to these professionals about the fact that you will do many different jobs, and your career will change direction many times, the precariousness of the sector no longer seems to me like a price to pay for doing what you love, but part of the beauty of it. Switching jobs on a regular basis, and working within many different but interconnected industries (literature, theatre, tv, film, dance) appeals to me much more than any definitive career path. Since I left BAB, (effectively officially shutting the door on international business) I’ve been looking for an alternative option. I’ve been desperately looking for one profession that I love so much that I would never consider doing anything else. Because that level of passion seemed to me to be what you need to succeed in your chosen workplace. But there isn’t one thing that I want to do rather than anything else at all. I find it all exciting. For many people, this is the problem with working in arts. It’s not a 9-5 job, with a set pay rate. It’s not safe. Since running away from rubbing shoulders with CEOs in a cushy 9-5, this aspect now offers me a fantastic kind of freedom.

Just because I find a happy autonomy in the fact that arts and culture workers mainly occupy multiple jobs on short-term contracts and are unlikely to have regular income, does not mean I’m going to paint it as some hidden perk of the industry, if only you look at it from a slightly different angle. I would not consider it to be an objective advantage. I’m not going to gold leaf shit. I’m not a politician. Although I can’t help thinking that sometimes, having a similar environment in some of our more prominent industries wouldn’t be the worst thing. Imagine if every future hedge fund manager had to ‘pay their dues’, and spend 5 years doing accounts for welfare-recipients and the unemployed; getting paid pittance and travelling from job to job in a 1986 ford escort, occasionally having to busk on the streets as a human calculator for petrol money. Really demonstrate their passion and commitment to banking.

The biggest problem with there being so little employment and money circulating in arts and culture, is that (as was pointed out on our panel) it means that only a fraction of the population can afford to properly commit to it. In our session, when we thought about the future, and the impact of austerity (which generally means a cut of around 50% in most councils) on the arts, a few panelists chose to emphasise the advantages of this. I don’t deny that with less government help, there will be an exciting rise in a more DIY approach to things like theatre, exhibitions, and other cultural events. Without access to as many venues for example, people will no doubt find creative alternatives. With less funding, also comes greater scope to be experimental. If you have the money, that is. I couldn’t help a slight nervousness from creeping up on me when we talked about arts and culture becoming more entrepreneurial. Surely, there is a flip-side to this, free, experimental, DIY arts scene we are envisioning. Businesslike, profit driven arts and culture do already exist: the X Factor, Twilight, Crazy Frog. I personally feel like I’m already seeing a rise in repeats shown on prime time BBC…

Perhaps we just have to accept that times change. Arts and culture will always find funding. Perhaps emerging young artists will have to adapt to a more American model for financing themselves. In London too, artists could clear out their workshops once a month, hire a bad DJ, splash some UV paint around and shower everyone in PBR for a tenner entry. Or maybe it is time to stop gold-leafing shit. I’m still waiting for our generation’s punk or Spitting Image. A bit less positive thinking and a bit more anger may be just what we need.