THE WINDING DOWN (Postgrad edition)

Fourteen years after my first degree I have bagged my second, and the timing feels just right. I wasn’t concerned about pursuing another degree for the first ten years, even though one of my bosses encouraged me to. My banking career was thriving, promotions came without needing further qualifications, and I wasn’t ready to explore other career paths.

In 2020, when I felt ready to return to school, I started a Postgraduate Diploma (PGD) in Economics at the University of Benin. While it wasn’t the standard of education I had envisioned for my second degree, it was exciting to be back in the classroom. Balancing full-time work with studies was challenging at first, but that experience prepared me for life as an international student, where I had to juggle work and school continuously.

If you’ve followed my blog through the years, you’ll be familiar with all the choices I contemplated, including my yearning for a gap year. Life eventually pushed me in a new direction, leading me to an even more rewarding path than originally planned. It also led me to the perfect environment for the quality of education I had always dreamed of for my second degree.

In contrast to my undergraduate degree at the University of Benin (UNIBEN) where I was all about cramming and moving to the next level without immersing myself in the coursework, I was more grounded in the learning process in my postgrad at Curtin University. I enjoyed the units I enrolled for and genuinely understood the curriculum. While I had a more robust academic experience here and acknowledge that my professional banking experiences and maturity with age contributed greatly to this improved experience, I also owe a lot to the environment. Studying in a functional environment was a real game changer; the facilities, course curriculum and exposure to industry leaders all enhanced my learning experience.

I stumbled on a letter I had written in 2020 to Seyi when he was relocating abroad for his postgraduate studies.

This excerpt from the letter made me laugh as I remembered how I had planned to do it right in my postgraduate studies. I was determined to make the most of it—not just academics but also fully embracing the school environment and social activities. I didn’t want to be the same three-dimensional student I was during my undergraduate years (classes, church, and studies). I gave it a try, but reality hit hard when I submitted an assessment two days late and faced severe penalties. That’s when I realized that everyone has their own approach to academics, and for me, it’s about going all in. Social life naturally takes a back seat, especially when I was also juggling two jobs and a second school program. This experience reinforced my belief that there’s a time for everything, and in that season, academics took priority.

Unfortunately, some flawed aspects of the Nigerian tertiary education system were present in my department, and it came as a major shock. I never expected that after travelling to the other side of the planet, I would encounter sadistic lecturers who seemed determined to withhold marks and were reluctant to award well-deserved distinctions in line with the marking rubrics. From my experience, this was peculiar to my department, which was primarily run by three core lecturers, with occasional contributions from industry experts. Right from the first semester, it became clear these lecturers were anti-students. In contrast, my experience with elective units outside the department was significantly better.

At the start of the program, I set a goal to graduate with distinction. Achieving this was no small task, thanks to the evil departmental lecturers and, well, my sabotaging myself twice due to poor decisions. Despite all odds, I am proud to have graduated with a distinction, but…

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This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to feel truly proud of my accomplishments without any trace of imposter syndrome. From the very beginning, it was a constant battle to graduate with a distinction. I honestly thought it would be easy—after all, almost everyone graduating from UK programs seems to achieve distinctions. I mean, what could be so difficult about Project management? How hard could Project Management be? But those lecturers in my department made it feel like rocket science, for reasons I still can’t understand.

Most of my classmates were content with getting credit grades because the lecturers made it seem like that was the norm, almost as if credit was the equivalent of a distinction in our department. I couldn’t accept that. I knew the effort I put into my departmental assessments was the same level of effort I put into my elective units, where I consistently earned high distinctions. I refused to settle and frequently challenged my lecturers through emails because their marking was clearly unfair. By the final semester, I was exhausted and decided I would avoid any confrontations and focus on finishing peacefully. That plan worked—until the last week of the semester, when one of the most difficult lecturers tried to sabotage my distinction in his unit.

This wasn’t the first time. He had pulled a similar stunt the previous semester. Back then, I argued my case but let it go, knowing my cumulative average wouldn’t be affected. This time, though, I wasn’t backing down. I was ready to send a strongly worded email with the heading in caps – HARRASMENT AND VICTIMISATION OF STUDENTS, while throwing in hints of racist accusations in the body of the mail and copying everyone, including the Vice-Chancellor.

I had not felt anger like that in a long time when I saw the poor grade he gave me. I spoke to my brother-in-law and a few friends to calm myself down, but it was tough. That day, I was at my cookery class and completely useless the entire time. Anger is such a powerful emotion—it can consume you. After cooling off, I sent the lecturer a well-detailed email checking the unfair marking squarely. To my surprise and slight disappointment (I was ready to send out that stinker mail and cause chaos), he was reasonable this time around to concede and adjust my score on the final assessment, restoring my distinction in the unit.

Funny enough, this whole episode reminded me of my banking years. Back then, I was great at chasing transactions and fighting for what I wanted—especially with the back-office staff to ensure my transactions were handled properly, irrespective of the person’s grade. I loved the adrenaline rush and was never a pushover. I have always been outspoken and assertive but working in the corporate world taught me how to fight strategically. I learned the art of diplomacy: knowing when to fight dirty, when to stand my ground and refuse to compromise, and even when to lose gracefully because losing in the short term often meant winning in the long run.

In those days, when my colleagues had issues with difficult staff, they’d come to me for advice on how to handle them. That knack for tackling challenges was useful during this experience, and I’m grateful I never lost that skill.

The final semester was already tough enough, and yet this lecturer still managed to add stress in the final week. I had always feared that something would go wrong in my last semester—a superstitious fear rooted in stories my mum told me as a child. I tried not to dwell on it and would immediately push the thought out of my mind whenever it crept in. Halfway through the semester, my dad fell seriously ill and spent weeks in the hospital. My family initially hid it from me, thinking they were protecting me because I was thousands of miles away. I was upset when I eventually found out, telling them I didn’t need their protection; I needed the truth.

I was strong through it; I did not let it break me. The superstitious fear increased, but I kept praying it away. I was juggling the workload from both my master’s program and the workload from the cookery program, which was way more hectic than prior semesters. Thankfully, my master’s program only had three units compared to four I had done in the previous semesters, and my final project was not a thesis but a practical project that required me to manage and create all the necessary project management documents.

It was in the middle of writing the lenghty project management plan I got a call, a day before the deadline that my dad who had just been discharged after spending weeks in the hospital after undergoing a major head surgery had been rushed back to the hospital in the middle of the night as he had suffered multiple seizures. That’s when I finally broke down. I cancelled my shift that day (something I barely ever do). I was frozen and paralysed with fear. Though my dad was stable, it felt like I was losing him. As I spoke with my sister that morning, my world began to unravel. I had to stay in my flatmate’s room to calm down. I think I was in some sort of mini-shock and distracted myself with conversations I can’t even remember now. It was one of the scariest and hardest times of my life, being so far away from home. I even considered booking a flight, but it would have taken two days to get to Nigeria.

In the midst of it all, I still had schoolwork to finish. What kept me going were words from Terhso that I’ve clung to since 2018: “It takes a lot of strength to be able to keep all the different parts of your life separated, not letting an issue on one part affect another”.

I kept repeating those words to myself as I worked on my assessment, feeling undone and completely worn out mentally. Whenever it got too much, I would drift to sleep to numb the pain. Then I’d wake up and pick up where I left off. That’s how I completed that assessment in two days of brokenness. At a point, I was ready to submit it as it was, not giving a damn about the quality. Yet, deep down, I knew I couldn’t let the hell I was walking through destroy my academic efforts. I wasn’t ready to lose my dad, but somehow, I found myself confronting the possibility that even if the worst happened, life would have to go on. I kept telling myself that no matter how much pain I was in, I wouldn’t let it derail my goals. I think a part of my mind was disconnected from reality during this period.

I felt helpless, but I knew I had to find the inner strength to carry on. This was something I had been fearing all along. The lingering fear I had struggled with that something would happen to disrupt my academics was unravelling, and it was not pretty. One thing I have learned over the years from various life challenges thrown my way is the importance of resilience. Of staying in my struggle, knowing that if I can be strong enough to endure through the storm, joy will always meet me on the other side. When all was clear and he was out of the woods, it dawned on me that their hiding it from me was truly protecting me. I had to admit this to my brother that I finally understood why. Sometimes, love means shielding, even when it’s hard to accept.

I ended up with a distinction in that assignment. The day I saw the result, which was weeks after all this drama had settled and my dad was back home feeling much better, I had a silent smile. Within me, I felt amazed at how I was yet again able to pull through a time of great diversity. Growing up, I never truly saw myself as a resilient person. My mental health was fragile, and the earlier entries on this blog are a testament to how easily things used to shake and break me. Before I left for Australia, Anesh told me that all my experiences would ensure my success. I know he was referring to my professional experiences at the time, but right now, I see it as including all the pain and brokenness I have had to dance with from young adulthood till now. Those moments have shaped me over the years into someone who is resilient, who ignores the broken parts and constantly shows up, even when the world feels like it’s collapsing around me. I am thankful for growth, but nah, this is not me asking to be recruited as one of God’s strongest soldiers, thank you very much.  

Just as that storm was settling, I came down with the worst case of flu, which lingered for almost three weeks, coupled with a persistent headache. At the same time, major government changes in the industry I work in affected both companies I was employed at, leading to reduced income. It felt like I was being checked on every side, and life was really testing how resilient I could be. Two months left to the end of the semester, and life was coming at me from every side. I tried my best not to be rattled by this, holding on to gratitude because I had already paid the final fees for both schools. I also knew I needed a lighter work schedule to cope with the demands of the final weeks of schooling (at the start of the semester, I had planned to work less, but I still do not know how to deprioritise making money. I rather find a way to squeeze my schedule even if it means stretching myself).

When the issues at work dragged on for over a month with constant changes and uncertainty, I remembered I was on a journey of surrender. I took it as God being in control of my schedule yet again since I had refused to do the needful to create ease for myself. I let go of the chaos at work, embraced the free hours, and channelled that time into schoolwork. Even with the reduced work hours and a 5-day extension on the deadline for the final assessment of the master’s program, I still needed to crash a research paper of 5,000 words that I normally would have required two weeks of effort into a week’s work. On the last day, I resumed work on the paper in the wee hours, and by noon, I was so spent and faint. I knew if I didn’t take a break, I was going to blackout. I just had to take a break and managed to drag my weak body from the chair to my bed with my head feeling so light and my body frail. Graduate school is not for the weak.

I remembered that during the holiday before the semester began, I had prayed for ease in my final term. The final semester was usually stressful for students, but thankfully this was not my case due to the reduced work schedule. As soon as I stopped worrying about the work changes, my head was trying to fast forward into the future and worry about money. I feared earning less after finishing my studies, especially when I would no longer have work restrictions like I did on a student visa. I tried to find peace with this, but it took a while. I hated that I was even having bouts of worry over this. I thought that after all my past experiences, nothing should be able to faze me anymore because at this stage in my life, after all the twists and turns I have survived since I started my professional career journey, I can confidently say I am living proof that God never leaves His children stranded and He was definitely not going to start with me.

“I’ve witnessed Your faithfulness
I’ve seen You breathe life within
…
Your promises never fail
I’ve got stories I’ll live to tell
…
You’re good and I’ve witnessed it
You’re strong and I’ve witnessed it
You’re constant, I’ve witnessed it
And I’m confident, I’ll see it again and again – Melodie Malone and Passion (I’ve Witnessed It)

The funny thing is my income, though reduced, the drop was not so significant. Once I completed both school programs, I was able to fully get back into the grind, got another job and upped my income even though now, my body has been screaming for me to take a break and slow down. So why was I worried? I guess it’s just human nature. The thoughts will always come, but it’s how I choose to respond to them that truly matters.

Maybe graduate school would have been much easier if I hadn’t combined it with the cookery college. But honestly, I enjoyed the rush. Pushing myself to complete both programs simultaneously, excelling in both, and earning distinctions gave me a sense of pride. At the cookery college, I was among the first students to submit assessments on time—a personal win that reinforced my determination and work ethic. Maybe this makes me feel good about myself, a testament to how determined I can be, a goal-getter and someone who sets a target and works relentlessly to achieve it and do so with excellence. I don’t see myself as part of the hustle culture. I’m not driven by ambition or the rat race; instead, I find purpose and self-worth in achieving the goals I set for myself.

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About the “but” I mentioned earlier regarding earning a distinction. The screenshot below is a snapshot of the rubrics used in grading all my assessments, showing a clear demarcation between distinction and high distinction.

Even before arriving in Australia, my initial goal was to graduate with a distinction, which I thought was the highest possible grade. At the start of the second semester, I asked myself why I was chasing after a distinction when there was something called a high distinction. I decided to focus on the distinction, especially as the sadistic departmental lecturers were already making it almost impossible to even achieve that. I knew if I had done a core management course, I would have easily graduated with a high distinction. I kept getting 80 and above in those assessments and units, even once achieving a perfect score of 100%. Based on the rubrics, the lecturers used to say that in order to earn a distinction, referencing must be done properly, while a high distinction requires expert application of theories and concepts.

So, tell me why, after completing all coursework activities in the final semester, I stumbled upon a notice on the school’s page stating that only students with a cumulative average weighted score of 80 and above would have “with distinction” written on their degree certificate. I still ask myself how I missed this important information. Maybe it was mentioned during an induction I didn’t attend, or maybe, as usual, life made me fight through all obstacles to get my over 70 cumulative average, only to realise it wouldn’t amount to a distinction on my certificate. God knows I would have reduced my effort, especially considering the challenging behaviour of the departmental lecturers.

Even more worrisome is the fact that, if this is what’s required, why were the lecturers in my department finding it difficult to give students distinctions in assessments? Then again, I thought to myself, if I had a high distinction cumulative weighted average, I’d be offended to have just a distinction on my certificate. I checked other universities’ grading systems in my city, and they all awarded distinction for 70 and above, while those with 80 and above received a high distinction.

I sat with this discovery for a week, feeling scammed by the university. If it means nothing, why were there those demarcations in the rubrics? I felt played by them. The day I found this out, I was upset and felt like all my struggles over the past two years were for nothing. However, I have since made peace with it. I realized that nothing was lost. I had a goal of achieving a cumulative average of 70 or above, and I attained it despite fighting against the challenges posed by the principalities that were my departmental lecturers and other obstacles life threw my way. I am extremely proud of myself, wholly. The last confrontation with the lecturer, where he readily agreed and upgraded my scores, felt like a well-deserved final victory over all their shenanigans. I know one school I would not consider when I am ready to pursue my MBA. This time, I will be striving for a high distinction.

They tried to destroy my plans, but the final email exchange validated that they were all deliberate actions to fail students. It is a shame that the same issues faced in third-world universities exist in an Australian university. I never expected to experience this here, especially at an internationally recognized university like Curtin University.

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If I were to sum up my entire graduate school experience, it would be along the lines of the song Daylight by David Kushner, which says, “Oh, I love it, and I hate it at the same time.” I loved studying, writing, and reading numerous research papers, gaining new knowledge and insights, and, most of all, witnessing the growth in my writing skills. When I compared my earlier papers from the first semester to the quality of my writing in the last semester, it was clear how much I had improved. This growth was also reflected in the remarks from the markers.

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Mostly, I loved receiving high distinctions back-to-back, especially for the two business reviews I did, using Access Bank as my case study focal point. However, the aspect I didn’t enjoy, aside from the sadistic lecturers in my department, was the intensity of the program. It almost felt like it sucked the joy out of studying with the tight assessment deadlines. Once the semester resumed, it felt like we were in a race against time to complete all assessments by their due dates, with little focus on the learning process. Despite this, I did my best to stay present and learn, hoping to avoid the mistakes I made in my undergrad when I relied on cramming.

To close this life phase—one that was in many ways exciting and fulfilling—I went to the school library to write this post. On a normal day, even throughout my undergraduate program, I never utilized the library.

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I’ve never been a library kind of guy, but during my final semester, I found myself going there to study or work on academic papers. I realized that I needed to change my tactics and environment when I felt burned out or lazy toward my studies. You know how runners slow down and feel exhausted as they near the finish line? That’s exactly how I felt toward the end of the course. The library provided a refreshing change, breath new energy into my studies and helped me significantly. I walked around the school the day I wrote most of this post, soaking in the atmosphere to find closure, and I took photos to capture the memories.

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Well, I didn’t exactly get the sense of closure I was seeking, but at least I managed to write over 3,000 words that day. I realized, just as I always found my way to taking quiet walks or solo drives around my undergraduate university even years after graduation, this university will always be here in Australia, readily accessible to me. So, if I ever feel nostalgic or need the energy of the campus, I can simply take a walk in or find a quiet spot to clear my head.

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