Why self obsessed students should do care work

A degree might give you lots of knowledge about the subject you’ve studied, but it won’t provide any knowledge about real life.

Then many step straight onto a career conveyer belt, without learning anything about the world around them. It’s a wellworn path, but it makes for unworldly, sheltered and naive graduates who are out of touch and lack basic interpersonal skills.

earlier this week, Mary Curnock Cook, the outgoing head of the University and Colleges Admissions Service, said she thought youngsters shouldn’t rush to start their career, but should take six months off after graduating to explore their options.

I like this idea of taking a breather to learn about the world around you. But I’d go one step further: my concern is that her suggestion gives a green light to students lounging about at home, waited on by their parents. This is the last thing they need. even worse, some will go to farflung places trying to ‘find themselves’.

The precious, wan, selfobsessed graduates who abound these days need to learn a bit about the real world. In years gone by, National Service would have given them the dose of life skills they so desperately need, but in its absence, they could work as a carer.

That’s what I did as a medical student. A gap year or exotic holidays were not an option, as I had to save money to put myself through medical school, and while at the time this slightly irked me, in hindsight I’m so pleased I had no choice.

I took on various jobs caring for the elderly or those with disabilities and it was incredibly tough at times. But they turned out to be some of the most extraordinary, formative experiences of my life.

My first job interview as a carer was probably one of the hardest I will ever have. When I met my prospective employer, Amanda, she was lying on her bed, motionless except for the occasional involuntary twitch of her legs. I struggled to understand what she was saying and often had to ask her to repeat herself.

Amanda had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of 17. It quickly began to paralyse her and for several years she’d lived in her bedroom, with her parents as her main carers.

When I met her, she couldn’t move any part of her body and the muscles in her neck were too weak to support her head properly. Her speech was affected, as was her sight. It was a truly horrific scene — this wonderful, bright woman who had dreamt of being a lawyer, now destroyed by this disease.

It was a scene tragically being played out only a few doors from my house, but until this meeting I’d been unaware of it. Then a callow youth of 19, I was only there because I’d answered an ad in the local paper. THE interview ended, I said goodbye. A few days later I got a message from Amanda’s mum: I was hired. I did everything for Amanda, from feeding her to changing her catheter — her mother showed me how.

I was immediately responsible for another human being who depended on me entirely. By the end of that first day, I had grown up. I spent the next four months caring for Amanda and she seemed to welcome the company of someone nearer her own age.

I took her to the pub in her wheelchair and we would try to get free drinks which I’d then help her drink through a straw. I would change her catheter bag while we talked about who was on Top Of The Pops. Then just before I said my farewells before starting medical school, Amanda caught pneumonia and died.

While many of my friends were exploring other countries, attempting to discover themselves or drinking themselves into oblivion, I was learning about life and death: Amanda taught me more about both than medical school did and I still feel enriched and humbled by the short time I spent with her.

during the hardest times at medical school I thought of Amanda and it spurred me on. Caring for her had also taught me the importance of not just physical health, but mental wellbeing, too, and this contributed to my decision to work in mental health.

Of course, the pressures on youngsters to forge a career or to have extravagant experiences in farflung places are immense. But it’s good to remember you don’t have to rush into the corporate job of your dreams or go halfway round the world to discover yourself: the greatest learning experience of your life might be just a few doors away.