We're learning the hard way! Six undergraduates reveal how they're funding their fees

Next year’s rise in tuition fees will be just the latest in a long line of financial burdens for students. But there are ways of making ends meet – even without parental support. Ruth Tierney meets six can-do undergraduates who are funding their education with part-time jobs
‘Promotional work pays for my PR course’


Claire Thomas, 21, relies on promotional work to fund herself through a degree in public relations at Leeds Metropolitan University.

I’m from a very working-class family in Middlesbrough who can’t spare anything towards my university costs, so if I didn’t work, I wouldn’t be here. My mum’s a kitchen assistant at a school and my dad works for a compensation firm, but he’s been made redundant from three jobs in the past six years. When I decided to go to uni, I assumed a student loan would pay for everything. But despite the fact I get a loan for tuition fees, a maintenance loan of £1,000 a term, and a full grant of £900 a term, that still doesn’t cover the cost of living in a city like Leeds. My £250 average monthly wage is essential for bills, shopping, bus fares and driving lessons.
In the three years I’ve been at uni, I’ve worked as a barmaid and shop assistant – both jobs I’ve had to quit because of going home over the summer holidays. Having contracted hours was stressful because no matter how many lectures I had, I still had to turn up for work. In my second year (I’m now in my third), I was diagnosed with stress after I broke down in hysterical tears one day. I left my job, but then found myself £1,500 overdrawn in the space of a term. So I started doing casual promotional work through an agency a year ago, and the hours are flexible, allowing me to choose when I work depending on how busy I am at uni. Some of the work has been embarrassing, such as walking up and down the street with a sign on my back advertising the opening of a new store. But other times I really enjoy the campaigns, such as talking about Revlon mascara to customers in Superdrug.
After graduating I’m going to carry on doing promo work while I decide whether to move to London, where most of the good consumer PR agencies are. I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to afford to live in the capital, though. When I do start earning a proper wage, I’ll have to pay back around £15,000, which is a lot less than some because my uni has quite low tuition fees in comparison. There’s been talk that the fees for my course are going to go up to around £8,000 a year soon, so more students will have to find part-time work like me.
‘I’m funding my fashion degree by working in a call centre’

Jodie McTaggart, 22, is studying fashion writing and culture at Solent University, Southampton, and works in customer complaints for British Gas.

It would have been impossible for me to go to university without also earning a living to pay my way. My mum, a social worker, and my dad, a courier, would love to support me, but there’s no way they could afford to. Besides, I’m the one who made the choice to study for three years, so I should be the one who pays for it. It scares me when I think about the £22,000 of student loans I’ll have to pay back at the end of this.
I had a couple of years out after school, which was when I got a job in the customer complaints division of a British Gas call centre. I was working full time, supporting myself, and had moved into a shared house with friends by the time I went to uni. Because I’d been independent for less than three years, the maintenance loan I received (which is for accommodation and is part means-tested) was based on my parents’ earnings. This meant I got less than I’d imagined. Although my tuition fees of £3,500 a year are covered by the loan, there’s barely enough left for my rent and bills. Luckily, my boss said that I could go part time at British Gas, so I now do 17.5 hours a week. I show my boss my timetable at the start of each term, and I’m given hours that fit around lectures. I take home around £620 a month after tax, which covers the rest of my rent, bills, food, travel and books.
Although I only have six hours of lectures a week, I’m in my final year so I’m also trying to write a 10,000-word dissertation. I know I can handle it because I’m so organised. I work three days or evenings a week at British Gas. Because I’m dealing with angry customers shouting down the phone it can be very stressful. It’s giving me transferable skills though, such as assertiveness and the ability to work under pressure.
I’m exhausted on Sundays – my only day off – but it will be worth it in the long run. When I graduate I’m going full time at British Gas while I find a job as a fashion journalist. It’s such a competitive market that who knows how long
that will take?
‘Stripping off at hen nights is funding my law degree’

Alex Hemsley, 22, works as a Butler in the Buff to pay the bills while he studies law at the University of the West of England, Bristol.

Why would I work as a half-naked waiter at hen nights and parties full of raucous, tipsy women? Because the £25-an-hour rate, which can see me earn around £1,500 a month at busy times, means I can pay my way through uni. The maintenance loan I receive is only £2,000 a year, yet my rent alone is £500 a month. Although my parents can help (my mum’s a photographer and my dad’s in financial services), it doesn’t feel right for them to be supporting their 20-something son.
I’m in my second year now, but when I started uni I was a barman in a pub, getting minimum wage and doing 40-hour weeks to make ends meet. My grades suffered and I only just scraped a pass in my first-year exams. When a friend told me he’d got a job with Butlers in the Buff, which involves serving at functions with a bare chest and dickie bow, I thought, ‘Why not?’ My first booking was for a hen do, and I was pretty nervous – especially as they’d requested we just wear pinnies (and no trousers). But after five minutes, I’d almost forgotten about my lack of clothing.
Most people just laugh about my job. Even my parents find it hilarious. There are ten other Butlers who go to my uni, so it’s a common way to fund your studies. And because it’s nationwide, I get gigs when I go home to Cambridge.
The pay’s so good that I can work fewer hours (between ten and 20 a week) and dedicate myself to the 12 hours of lectures and 30 hours of reading a week required by my course. My grades have improved and I’m now on track to get a 2:1 or first. I’m then hoping to do a master’s in law before becoming a solicitor, and will continue doing this work to fund it. I’ll need all the help I can get as I’ll owe about £25,000 in student loans.
‘My job at Reiss complements my fashion degree’

Carys Thomas, 20, is studying art and design at the London College of Fashion (LCF), while working evenings and weekends as a concession manager for clothing company Reiss.

Living in London is so expensive that even my well-off student friends have difficulty getting by. So if you come from a middle-income family like my own, working is a necessity. My parents are separated, so money is even more of an issue. When they split up, my dad left the PR agency they owned to go freelance. My mum found another business partner, but that meant her income halved. Asking for handouts isn’t an option.
After school I had a year out, working full time as a shop assistant at Reiss’s flagship store in Barrett Street, London, taking on more responsibility with styling and visual merchandising. I got a flat with three other girls and paid the £500 a month rent myself, while putting away £200 a month for college. Before long, I was promoted to concession manager for the Reiss department in John Lewis, Oxford Street, as well as continuing to work as a sales assistant at the flagship branch. For this I get an extra £100 a month. I was working a minimum of 40 hours a week, taking home £1,500 a month after tax.
When I got on to an art foundation course last September at the LCF, my employers let me keep my managerial role because they knew that I was hardworking enough to fit it
in around college. My tutors are delighted I have a job because they can see what great experience I’m getting. I now do 20 hours a week at Reiss, working evenings and weekends, to fit around the 16 hours of lectures. Sometimes I don’t get home until 9pm and have to stay up until midnight doing coursework, which is tiring. Because I’m over 19, I had to pay £850 for the year’s tuition fees. I don’t get any kind of loan, so my mum pays half my rent each month (£250) and I pay the other half. I pay for everything else, from my Tube fares (£130 a month) to my mobile bill (£70 a month).
When I start my fashion degree in September, my mum will stop giving me money because I’ll qualify for a tuition loan and a maintenance loan. I’ll carry on working at Reiss – I couldn’t do this otherwise. I bring home £700 a month now after tax. It will be worth it when I graduate, because I’m hoping that Reiss will take me on as a buyer.
‘I'm a sports-centre supervisor and a management student’

Samantha Dane, 22, studies human resources (HR) management at Manchester Metropolitan University all week, and works as a sports-centre supervisor at weekends.

It’s hard enough now being a cash-strapped student, but I pity the ones who will face almost triple the tuition fees. Although I earn £300 a month as a part-time supervisor at a leisure centre, I still have trouble making ends meet.
A loan takes care of my degree fees, a maintenance loan (£2,000 a term) covers the rent of my city-centre flat-share, and I get a bursary of £1,000 a year. It sounds manageable, until you consider the high cost of living, and hidden extras such as the £400 deposit I needed to secure a flat last summer. This, my third and final year, is the most expensive yet because I have to fork out for more books, while it costs £50 to get my dissertation bound and £100 to hire a graduation cap and gown.
The majority of students I know need to work part time and have jobs in supermarkets and bars. In fact, my university supports it, letting any students with jobs take one less module a year in order to cope. I started at the leisure centre while resitting an A-level after school, and within a year I’d been promoted from lifeguard to supervisor, managing between two and five members of staff each shift. This meant my hourly rate went up by £2 an hour (it’s now £8), plus I’m gaining managerial experience that will hopefully help win me a job.
When I got into uni, my boss allowed me to go from full time to weekends. This means it doesn’t affect the six hours of lectures I have a week, or my coursework. I work full time during the holidays and save money to pay for the year ahead. My boss understands that uni is my priority, but knows I’m a hard worker, so he didn’t want to lose me.
Having a responsible job at an early age meant that I never expected my mum (a housewife) and dad (a mechanic) to support me. They help when I’m really stuck.
I’ve applied for graduate schemes in HR at Marks & Spencer and Rolls-Royce so hopefully I’ll have a job when I leave. Hanging over me is the £20,000-plus in loans that I’ll have to pay back as soon as I’m earning £15,000 a year – the only comfort is that everyone I know is in the same boat.
‘Being a student has boosted my business’

Lauren Moulsley, 19, is juggling an event management degree at Bournemouth University with selling Avon cosmetics.

On my first day at university, I came into campus with a stack of books under one arm and a pile of catalogues under the other. As everyone else introduced themselves,
I took the chance to promote my Avon business, signing up fellow students as new customers. There are about 110 people on my course, all of them women, and the majority now buy their beauty and skincare from me. While most students I know are deep into their overdraft, my business venture means I’ve always been in the black. This is more important now than ever because my mum was recently made redundant so my parents don’t need me asking for handouts.
I started my own Avon business on my 18th birthday, while still at school. The flexi hours appealed and I’m passionate about make-up. I was assigned the Reading street I lived in, and within a month orders were flooding in. While friends had to give up part-time jobs when they relocated for uni, I was able to continue mine, keeping my original customers (who I sell to when I’m home) and adding new ones. I live in a hall of residence with 500 other students, so I’m never short of doors to knock on.
I deliver catalogues, pick up orders and bag products in the evenings, for around three hours a week, which doesn’t interfere with the 13 hours of lectures I have. My tutors think it’s fantastic that I’m running my own business.
I make around £60 a week, which pays for food, bus fares and stationery. Although my tuition fees are covered by a government loan, the maintenance loan of £3,560 a year doesn’t cover my rent, which is £4,050. My mum and dad (who works in marketing) cover the deficit, but earning extra means I don’t have to ask them for additional money. I feel bad enough that they’re contributing to my rent, but they insist on helping as they know I’ll be in debt to the tune of £30,000 on leaving uni (I’m in my first year of a four-year degree).
There are always ways to earn extra, which I did recently to cover the cost of buying two printer cartridges. I ran a promotion giving customers a free perfume sample for every £5 they spent and sales doubled that week. When I graduate I want to organise charity functions, but will keep Avon on the side. It’s taught me so much about selling, promotion, accounts and deadlines. I used to be shy, but having to knock on strangers’ doors has boosted my confidence.