She’s the oldest student in her undergraduate degree, here’s what it’s like

“At 25, Hope is the oldest student in her undergraduate degree. While her peers started university fresh out of high school or gap years, she arrived after years of detours. “I used to constantly calculate how old I’d be when I graduate,” she says. “It felt huge at the time. Graduating and 27 or 28 sounded so ancient when you’re in your early 20s. Every year, I thought. If I wait one more year, I’ll be even later.” Hope didn’t start university late because she was unsure or unmotivated. Quite the opposite. After finishing high school, she faced serious health issues that led to surgery and years of recovery. Then, just as things stabilised, COVID arrived. The thing is, she could have started university online, but it didn’t make sense — to her at least. “People were paying full tuition and saying that studying online didn’t match the cost,” she says. “That wasn’t the experience I wanted.” So, she worked instead — and kept working. Once you’ve started an adult job, quitting that to pursue an undergraduate degree is scary. Besides, why would you want to leave your source of income? But there was a sense of urgency, mixed with anxiety. Eventually, the question shifted from ‘ when ‘ to ‘ why not’ . “I realised I just had to do it,” Hope admits. “There was no use in thinking about it anymore.” View this post on Instagram A post shared by Hope (@hope_seventeen) Feeling left behind as a 25-year-old pursuing an undergraduate degree Walking into her first lecture, Hope was hyper-aware of one thing: her age. “I felt it a lot at the beginning,” she shares. “Everyone had just graduated from high school, and they were still in that student mindset.” It might seem like a big issue on the outside. But on the inside? It was loud. Impostor syndrome took over her. No one treated her differently. No one noticed anything, but she did. Socially, the gap felt bigger than she expected. People would say, “It’s only a few years difference.” But it really didn’t feel that way. “Making friends was harder,” Hope explains. “You’re just at different stages.” That feeling was even amplified by culture. Hope grew up in Russia, but is ethnically Korean and is now pursuing an undergraduate degree at Ewha Women’s University in South Korea, where age often dictates hierarchy. Asking one’s age isn’t casual; it’s about where each individual in society stands in a friendship or even just as peers. International students don’t really ask about ages, but Korean students do. When classmates found out she was older, it sometimes shifted the dynamic. “At first, it felt really strange,” she says. “It made my age feel…heavier.” In her first semester, insecurity took the lead. “I definitely felt isolated,” she says. “Some of it was even self-inflicted. I help telling myself, ‘They’re younger, we have nothing in common.’ That first year was a lonely one.” The comparison didn’t help. She noticed that younger people seemed so ahead — socially and academically — and started to think she was behind, compared to those her age and younger. Hope even feels it to this day. There’s no perfect way to make the anxiety she has disappear. Redefining your own timeline Hope realised she had to change the way she looked at things. She knew that she couldn’t change her age. “When I look at friends my age, everyone’s doing completely different things,” she says. “Some are working, some are travelling, some are totally lost. There’s no single ‘right’ timeline.” Starting later made her realise that her actions were more intentional. “I know the stakes now,” Hope says. “I take my education seriously — my grades, talking to professors, thinking about what comes next.” She notices the contrast with younger students in undergraduate degrees. “So many freshmen tell me they hate what they’re studying or have no idea why they’re there,” she says. “I’ve already had that phase. I know why I’m here.” Hope hopes that she did life “backwards”. She worked first. She earned money. She saved. She travelled. It was nice, but she still felt like she missed out on the university part of life. Now, she feels more capable of juggling it all. Hope can study, work part-time, and even grow her social media pages. “If I started at 18, I would’ve been a mess,” she admits. In her second year, things started to feel lighter. She made more friends — even ones in more senior years. They’re still younger than she is, but by a year or two, not five. That helps. She’s also becoming something of an accidental role model. “Older students reach out to me all the time, especially those who want to study in South Korea,” she shares. “And I always tell them: go for it.” For Hope, the idea that 25 is “too old” no longer makes sense. There are cons to starting late, but the positives outweigh them so much. She pauses and starts to reflect. “You’re calmer, you enjoy learning more,” Hope says. “ You’re actually present.” And while the feeling of being behind hasn’t completely disappeared, it no longer controls her decisions. “At the end of the day,” she shares. “Time is going to pass. You might as well be doing something you actually want.”

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