UK first year students: share your experiences of university teaching
How much contact time with tutors do you have and how many lectures are you offered each week this term? Has teaching time met your expectations?
You can tell us your experiences of university teaching using this form.
Please include as much detail as possible.
Please note, the maximum file size is 5.7 MB.
Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.
Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.
If you include other people's names please ask them first.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mail
25 minutes ago
- Daily Mail
Therapist reveals ten signs that you may have grown up with a narcissistic mother - and need to 'heal your inner child'
A therapist has revealed ten signs that could mean you grew up with a narcissist mother - and how they could still be affecting you as a grown-up. Taking to TikTok, complex trauma survivor and inner child healing specialist Carly Boyle, who is UK based, shared past behaviours to reflect on and see if any resonate, as they could have long-term impacts on who you are today. The first, she expressed in the video, is that your parent made 'everything about her'. 'Even her emotions became your drama,' she explained. 'You were never the centre of your own story.' Next, the pro added, was instances where your feelings may have been invalidated - or you were told to 'stop being so sensitive'. 'Three, she used guilt as a form of manipulation and control,' Carly continued. 'You learned to put her needs above your own.' Another example of a narcissistic mother is one that 'competed with you instead of cheering you on' - never joining in to make you feel good about your looks, character or accomplishments. Elsewhere, despite causing emotional turmoil, this type of parent is one that 'never apologised even when clearly in the wrong', the therapist said. Instead, 'she gaslit you'. The sixth trait, Carly explained, was that despite being the one who had the duty to take care of you, she 'parentified you'. Instead, you became the one to offer her emotional support. Other traits also included bringing chaos into your life through unstable relationships, gaslighting you and telling you things didn't happen as they did, as well as withholding love - hence making affection feel 'conditional'. Finally, Carly recounted, she 'broke your sense of self' - and made you feel scared to explore who you are as a person outside of your mother's child. The expert remarked that 'if you have experienced even just one of these then your inner child is still carrying the emotional burden that your mother placed on you'. She added that these are signs of 'emotional neglect', and demand 'inner child healing work'. In a caption, she also penned: 'If you grew up with a narcissistic mother, you might still be carrying the weight of her chaos. 'Maybe she made everything about her. Maybe her emotions always came first. Maybe you had to be the adult while she fell apart.' Her advice resonated with many commenters, many of whom opened up about their own experiences 'This kind of mother wounds your nervous system,' Carly wrote. 'It keeps the little girl inside of you stuck in survival mode - always trying to earn love, avoid conflict, and find safety in unstable people. 'You learned to silence your needs. To be the good girl. To not upset her. 'But deep down, you never got what every child deserves: stability, validation, and unconditional love.' She stressed: 'You are not broken. You were never too much. You were never the problem. 'Your healing begins when you stop minimising what you went through and start reparenting the little girl within.' Carly offers a workbook and course to help make the healing journey on her social media. Her advice resonated with many commenters, many of whom opened up about their own experiences. 'The silent treatment for days on end for doing something she didn't like or agree with,' one wrote. 'I'm 57 and she still does it,' another admitted. 'I never wanted to admit she was a narcissist, but she displayed all 10 behaviours,' a third penned. 'I finally woke up when I read Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents… I'm 37 and I finally went no contact last month.' Another confessed: 'Yes to all of them. I'm no contact now and grieving the mum I wish I had. Hoping one day I'll know who I am.' 'All 10 of these behaviours happened,' one added. 'Now I have my own children and it is a daily battle to raise them better than I was raised, whilst trying to heal myself at the same time.' 'Bless her, she still does. She is 75 now,' another comment read 'So many emotions, but I am lucky that she is still with me.'
BBC News
28 minutes ago
- BBC News
Royals brave torrential downpours as Holyrood Week continues
King Charles and Queen Camilla have visited a Fife town as part of Holyrood week - the annual royal celebration of Scottish culture, community and achievements. The King and Queen faced torrential downpours as they were greeted by members of the public during a visit to Kirkcaldy to mark the centenary of the town's war monarch traditionally spends a week each July in Tuesday, the King began the official visit with the traditional Ceremony of the Keys in the palace gardens, before holding an investiture ceremony for honours recipients and garden party. King Charles sheltered under an umbrella as he unveiled a commemorative cairn, designed as a time capsule filled with mementos and photos from local Viewforth High School for future generations."It's a bit damp," said Queen Camilla. "We've been used to the heatwave."Hundreds of people watched the service through heavy the memorial, he viewed the centenary art exhibition at Kirkcaldy Art Gallery, where he met former prime minister Gordon visit and community reception celebrated the work of local charities and community organisations, which included Fife Multibank - an initiative founded by Mr Brown that provides essential goods to low-income families. The Queen visited a cancer centre run by charity Maggie's, which she has been president of since met people living with cancer at the town's Victoria Hospital, alongside Maggie's chief executive Dame Laura Lee, Mr Brown's wife Sarah and broadcaster Kirsty was founded by the late writer, gardener and designer Maggie Keswick Jencks and her husband, the late landscape designer Charles idea for the centres came after she was diagnosed with cancer and was then told in 1993 that it had returned while in windowless hospital corridor. The experience motivated the couple to create a more comforting environment for cancer patients. The first Maggie's Centre opened in Edinburgh in 1996. King Charles went on to meet first minister John Swinney at the Palace of Camilla will later host a reception for the Queen's Nursing Institute of Scotland at the in 1899 with a donation from Queen Victoria to organise the training of district nurses, the charity now provides professional development opportunities for Scotland's community nurses and midwives.
The Guardian
31 minutes ago
- The Guardian
How bad am I at small talk? Let me tell you about vaginal dryness ...
The importance of 31 December is well documented, but no one ever talks about the angst of 22 July. Or 23, or 25, depending on where you live. But while the date may vary, the bittersweet feelings are surely universal. The end of the school year is an oddly profound moment. This one's hitting different in our house too, as our son is about to finish primary school. It's poignant and nostalgic – wasn't he just a baby yesterday? There is, however, one part of his cosy little school that I won't miss. Kids tend to walk home on their own from secondary school, so my pickup days will come to an end, and – hallelujah! – so will my experiences of spectacularly failing to make small talk with fellow parents while we wait, my cheeks burning with shame. The school should put up a plaque in memory of all the occasions when I have died inside. Over the seven years my kid has been there, I have made some really good friends. But let's be honest, mostly I've made nodding acquaintances with people with whom the only common ground is that our children are in the same year. Were it not for the fact that we all had sex at a similar time 11 years ago, our paths would never have crossed. Although I'm delighted that has only just occurred to me, because if I had realised earlier there is an excellent chance I would have announced it in the first conversational lull at the school gates. Pickup is the same every day. Even if you desperately try not to catch anyone's eye, you will be unable to avoid doing so, because there are so many of you congregating. You greet each other with 'Hello' and 'How are you?'. Now and then, the gods smile on you and it will be pouring with rain, or snowing, or a bit warmer or colder than usual for the time of year, so you might get 30 seconds out of that. But then there will be a pause. And I guarantee I will fill it. Apparently, it takes four seconds for a silence to become uncomfortable, which doesn't sound long, but if you count it out loud, it's an age for two people to be standing together not saying anything. I freak out after less than two seconds. It is as though all the information I have ever consumed is filed in my brain in a towering pile, with the most recent on the top and easiest to reach. There's a gap in the chat, so I panic, and blurt out whatever is closest. I congratulated someone on her pregnancy who turned out to just be wearing dungarees as a fashion choice. Another time, I backed myself so tightly into a serial killer 'joke' corner – 'I'm not one of course … although that is what a serial killer would say' – that the other party appears to be actively afraid of me now. And once, because I had watched a Davina McCall documentary on menopause the night before, I talked about severe vaginal dryness, in an effort to end a silence with a virtual stranger and make things less awkward. Saying 'vaginal' to someone you barely know in broad daylight, stone cold sober, is a big move. Maybe there are other words that would be worse to follow it up with than 'dryness', but I can't think of many. Don't confuse my modus operandi with having no filter, which seems bold and intentional. This is accidental and anxious, a horrific kneejerk reaction. It feels uncontrollable. Sometimes when I replay these embarrassing moments over and over again in my head during that sleepless night's existential crisis, I realise I am undoubtedly remembering it as worse than it was. Not so here. The woman I said vaginal dryness to looked as if she wanted the playground to open up and swallow her. She probably avoids me to this day, but it's hard to tell because I'm too busy avoiding her. Imagine how excruciating it will be if we ever speak again. Imagine what I might say next. Well, when one door closes, another opens – watch out secondary school parents, I'm coming for you! (Not in a serial killer way, honest.) Polly Hudson is a freelance writer Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
