Hundreds of teenagers across Rochdale are preparing to open envelopes tomorrow morning that will decide whether they’ll be moving to a bustling university city, staying at home for a “gap year” that suspiciously resembles unemployment, or joining a degree apprenticeship where they’ll be yelled at by a bloke named Gary while learning the real-world applications of a BTEC in Making Tea.
The traditional A-level Results Day frenzy kicks off at 8am, with students across the borough preparing to discover whether two years of hard work, revision, and procrastinating via TikTok have paid off.
Some will secure their places at first-choice universities, while others will discover they’ve missed by a margin thinner than a Tesco Value toilet roll. In these cases, they may fall back on their ‘insurance offer’, which is university-speak for “not quite your dream, but at least it’s not Hull.”
For the lucky few who’ve exceeded expectations, there’s the option to enter Clearing and aim higher, assuming they fancy rolling the academic dice like a slightly more sober contestant on Deal or No Deal.
Meanwhile, those who’ve not done quite as well can also use Clearing to find a course in a subject they’ve never considered, in a town they’ve never heard of, at a university whose main selling point is “close to a Nando’s.”
Then there are the degree apprenticeships, for students who fancy working, studying, and developing chronic caffeine dependence all at once. These offer the unique joy of earning a wage while explaining to their mates that “yes, it is technically a real degree” for the next three years.
UCAS has issued a list of helpful suggestions for students, which includes remembering your login details, bringing ID, and being physically present, a tall order for someone who’s just opened an envelope containing what amounts to either their ticket to freedom or a one-way pass back to their bedroom.
Support groups have also formed in anticipation of mass confusion, minor breakdowns, and at least one dad trying to log into UCAS using his Netflix password.
More to follow, once we’ve checked on Aunty Linda, who’s been crying in the Asda car park since 8:15am
