The thought of leaving a perfectly good job to go back to full-time study may seem like a terrifying prospect to some; sitting in stuffy classrooms trying to pay attention to words coming out of a lecturer’s mouth, which sound like a foreign language spoken by a robot doused in tweed, and scribbling furiously with the determination of a beaver gnawing through a tree stump.

The array of young people around you; mysterious creatures whose only attempt at contact is via friend requests on Facebook and tweets on Twitter and who believe direct communication is an ancient myth — like the postman.

There’s also the stress of assignments and expectations of brilliance, the realisation that you’re probably the oldest student that ever dared to go back to university; and the all-encompassing fear that at the end of all the trouble, no one will want to hire a new graduate who’s twice the age of other applicants.

Then there’s the financial burden; the fear of depleting savings, starvation and destitution and that in order to pay for books and writing materials, I’ll have to take up busking in the streets and literally singing for my supper. It’s not exactly the back story pertaining to a future world leader — but then, I’ve come to realise that I’m not going to be one of those people who change the world. I’ll be lucky if I learn to successfully change a tyre.

But despite all of this, the little voice in my head that has haunted me for years with “Just do it” finally won the battle and now I’m beginning a postgraduate course at my local university in Northern Ireland. When I told my family, the looks of bewilderment turned to looks of mistrust as they remembered my mediocre grades from school and foresaw the inevitable and numerous requests for financial aid over the coming year from their poor relation.

Curiosity

So where, you may well ask, are the positives in this traumatic leap into unemployment? Well, they say that life is for never-ending learning, and even one of the smartest men to have ever lived, Albert Einstein, said: “The important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”

Indeed, it’s part curiosity, part ambition and part terror for me. Being from Northern Ireland I like to think I have a unique perspective of how countries can be utterly messed up by a, let’s say, complicated history of conflict and colonialism.

And after I moved to the UAE a few years ago I met many wonderful people and learnt more about the Middle East and countries around the world that are embroiled in war and ethnic conflict. For me, it was natural to want to learn more about why we’re all a bit crazy and how we can handle it better.

As the new school year is upon us, I’ve been wondering how things have changed since I last went to school. When I was last at university (trigger warning to any millennials reading) the internet was still in its infancy, there were no smart phones, no Google and print journalism was still a thriving industry. I’m not even sure if students even make notes anymore in class using real pens.

Will I be the dinosaur of the school with my Bic and notepad? Or will people look to me as a mother figure and tell me their problems, expecting various baked goods and free hugs?

Going back to school after all this time is like pushing a restart button; rebooting my mind with more of what I have always found fascinating and exploring new directions and options. I’m hoping the terror will push me to do better than the last time I was at university — and that no one finds out I can’t bake.

Christina Curran is a journalist currently studying a masters in international relations at Queen’s University, Belfast.