It was a casual conversation, at a house party during my final year of university, when after being asked what school I attended, someone turned to me and said, ‘You speak remarkably well for a state-educated person.’
The comment was delivered with an air of innocent surprise, but beneath it lay a stark assumption: that articulacy, intelligence, and academic success are unexpected from those who did not attend private school. This moment encapsulated the classist attitudes I had so often encountered at the Russell Group University. Over the years, I learned that these subtle yet pervasive micro-aggressions reinforce the deeply ingrained class divides that persist within many of the UK’s elite universities.
An Implicit Hierarchy
From the moment I arrived, I was made aware of the unspoken hierarchy; one in which the prestige of one’s school served as an indicator of status, intelligence, and ultimately, worth. I quickly realised that my state school background set me apart—not because of any deficiency on my part, but because of the assumptions others made. Compliments on my articulateness often came tinged with surprise, as if eloquence were an exclusive trait of the privately educated. The casual name-dropping of elite schools like Eton, Harrow, or Westminster carried an implicit expectation that I should be impressed, that I should acknowledge their superiority. These interactions, though seemingly trivial, are powerful reinforcers of class-based exclusion. They reveal a persistent belief in the academic hierarchy, and the issue is not merely personal discomfort but indicative of a broader societal obsession with class and privilege that manifests in university settings.
Why Does This Matter?
The fixation on schooling in university settings is symptomatic of a broader social inequality. The UK’s education system is deeply stratified, with private schools disproportionately feeding into Oxbridge and Russell Group institutions. This self-perpetuating cycle means that elite institutions remain overwhelmingly populated by those from privileged backgrounds, reinforcing networks of power and influence.
Whilst private education is regarded as the gold standard, the achievements of state-educated students are undermined, perpetuating the idea that they are outsiders in academic spaces. This has tangible effects—not only in terms of self-perception but also in the form of imposter syndrome, social exclusion, and reduced access to influential networks. If university is meant to be a meritocratic environment where talent and hard work are rewarded, why do so many students from state schools still feel like they have something to prove?
Strategies for Coping
Over time, my approach to these interactions changed. What once made me feel out of place eventually became a game of sorts—a challenge to see how people would react when I subverted their expectations. If someone assumed I had attended a prestigious independent school, I would let them talk before casually mentioning my state education. Watching the flicker of surprise was oddly satisfying.
State-educated students develop a range of strategies to navigate these class dynamics. Some use humour as a means of diffusing awkward conversations. Self-deprecation can be a powerful tool, though it sometimes reinforces rather than dismantles stereotypes. Others deploy deflection, sidestepping questions about schooling to avoid judgment. Some embrace their backgrounds openly, challenging assumptions and asserting their place in the academic space with confidence.
For me, the turning point came in realising that I did not need to justify or explain my presence at university. By the time I reached my fourth year, I no longer felt uncomfortable when confronted with classist assumptions—I had simply stopped caring about their validity. Instead, I saw these interactions as an opportunity to challenge outdated notions of academic and social superiority.
Towards a More Inclusive Academic Culture
If universities are serious about fostering inclusivity, they must go beyond access schemes and scholarships to address the cultural biases that persist within their walls. A shift in perception is needed. One that recognises the value of diverse educational backgrounds, rather than treating them as anomalies.
First, institutions must actively challenge the ingrained elitism that privileges certain schooling backgrounds over others. This means rethinking networking opportunities and broadening the scope of extracurricular activities to be more inclusive.
Second, universities should promote greater social integration. Too often, students from similar backgrounds cluster together, whether that be in certain accommodations or societies, reinforcing existing divides. More initiatives that encourage meaningful interactions between students of all backgrounds can help break down these barriers.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there must be a cultural shift in how we define academic excellence. Intelligence, talent, and potential are not determined by where one went to school. By dismantling the deeply ingrained belief that private education is the ultimate mark of success, universities can create an environment where all students feel equally valued.
As for that offhand comment (‘You speak remarkably well for a state-educated person’), that was more than just a misguided compliment. It was a reminder of the entrenched class divisions that persist within higher education and beyond. But my journey through university taught me that these attitudes, though pervasive, do not define me. By sharing our experiences, challenging assumptions, and advocating for change, we can push for a university culture that recognises and respects the full spectrum of educational backgrounds. After all, true academic excellence should not be measured by privilege, but by potential.
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