Jacky is in her final semester at Melbourne Uni. Again. Because after finishing a BA she decided another three years of uni seemed like a bright idea and enrolled in the JD. She feels this gives her some authority to discuss the existential crises involved in one’s final semester.
Your final semester goes very quickly and very slowly. It is loads of fun but also very boring. You are so carefree but also very stressed. You kind of hate first years because they are young but wouldn’t mind being one again – just for a day. Here’s some things you should know about finishing up your studies.
By your final semester, in theory, you have a system. Maybe that system is only choosing subjects with essays instead of exams, or only subjects with lecturers you already know, or going to every class or no class. You know what works for you. And that’s awesome. And if you don’t have a system, eh fuck it, you just have to get through the last six weeks.
(But then the voice of doubt starts in your head and says “Grades are basically meaningless at this point because even if you’re looking at further study you’ve probably already sent in an application and just need to pass.” Ignore that voice, you’re on fire. Good for you.)
It is quite freeing to know that you have the skills to work pretty decently this semester but you totally don’t need to and can just make hummus or something.
Another degree, employment, moving overseas? There are so many unknowns and so much time to sit and stew in your own uncertainty juices. If you’re applying to grad jobs, you might not hear back for weeks about a job that won’t start for another 6 months. There are so many postgrad courses to consider and apply to and what if they all say no and then it’s too late to apply to any jobs and none of them are in Melbourne anyway and you have to move somewhere regional and then will you ever leave and maybe –
It is…a lot.
AKA trying to trick someone into giving you a job you don’t really want anyway.
But the thing is – you’ve done it. Final semester is weird because it feels a bit like a formality. You already know how to survive uni. By now, you’ve probably had an injury you dealt with yourself, a culinary disaster, a rubbish grade, a nap in class, a terrible group project, a friendly tram driver, an ill-advised purchase, and figured out how you like your coffee. And you’re here at the other side, better than you were. If you don’t feel that just yet, that’s ok. If you felt it a year ago, that’s ok too.
The uni door is closing and you’re getting a peek at what’s next. And what’s next is unfamiliar and terrifying and I think you’re expected to own suit pants.
Good luck, congratulations, it will be ok.