After heaving my 50 lb suitcase onto a giant red coach, wrestling it down a cobblestone alley, and hauling it up five narrow, winding flights of stairs, I finally arrived at Exeter College, Oxford, where I would spend the next six weeks. The first thing I noticed was my view: a charming little window overlooking limestone shops and pubs named after miscellaneous animals—“The White Horse” sent loud conversations straight into my dorm. The second thing I noticed was the temperature: 90 degrees Fahrenheit and no air conditioning.
Compared to the freshly painted staircases of Harvard College’s Weld Hall, the dimly lit halls of the Turl Street dorms are timeworn and lived-in. As I walked through the college gardens, years of history lingered overhead, and I felt as if a robed Renaissance-era humanist could emerge from a building at any second. I asked myself why time seemed so disjointed at Oxford, until I realized how quiet it was.
Although Oxford is by far the most famous university in England, the school’s campus is—literally and figuratively—gated off from the rest of the country. For non-students, entry to just one of the university’s 36 colleges costs nine pounds sterling, and access to the principal Bodleian Library requires special research applications and multiple rounds of identification. While this isolation does create a space for students to dedicate themselves to their studies without distraction, it also creates a wedge between academia and the world it’s meant to serve.
Meanwhile, on any sunny afternoon in Cambridge, Massachusetts, tourists freely pour into Harvard Yard, photographing its historic grounds and filling its open spaces. At times, Harvard can feel more like a landmark than an academic institution.
These two ancient giants, pinnacles of Western academia, seem to take on completely different approaches to higher education.
Although my summer study program lasted only six weeks, I found that after just one week of lessons, I knew my professors’ hobbies, teaching styles, hometowns, and political leanings. Working closely with professors isn’t a choice at Oxford; the University’s academics are centered around its famous tutorial system—every class includes one-hour sessions during which one to four students must discuss their work with their tutors. Instructors will “notice if your work isn’t quite the same quality one week and they’ll know that something is going on,” a sophomore at Oxford, Clara Heck, said to the “Harvard Independent.” “And I think actually it’s sort of a two-way street […] you make the effort to be prepared and go to the tutorial and have an interesting and intellectual conversation with your tutor,” Heck explained. When students must present their work in an intimate environment every week, they can develop consistent motivation to keep up with work and build lasting relationships with tutors. They don’t need to create time in their schedules—that’s simply an integral part of an Oxford education.
At Harvard, students don’t necessarily have the same means of connecting with their professors. New students have vastly different experiences with discussion-based learning. Some might have spent years in Socratic seminars, while others might not know that attending office hours could benefit them at all. During my freshman fall, I only went to office hours when I had a specific set of questions or wanted essay advice. It was only toward the end of the semester that one of my professors informed me that I should just stop in to introduce myself and talk about the coursework more. By the end of my freshman spring, I’d become accustomed to dropping into office hours with even the smallest of clarifying questions. At Exeter College, where I talk to tutors about my essays, life goals, and favorite movies once a week in tutorials, I’ve never had to think about finding time to build relationships with faculty.
Moreover, though Harvard students have the freedom to decide which subjects they dedicate their extra time to, differences in background and experience can create disparities in academic advantage among the student body—with respect to faculty relationships and their larger course of study.
And therein lies another, and arguably the foremost, distinction between the oldest university in the United States and the oldest university in the English-speaking world: choice. Whether British or American, young adults must face a rapid cycle of escalating decisions that will shape the courses of their lives. Small or giant college? STEM or humanities? Dream job or stable income? But the timeline on which students at these two nations’ respective elite schools make their choices is vastly different.
While Harvard students don’t declare their concentrations until their sophomore fall, Oxford students must apply to pursue a specific course of study—and these academic paths are usually determined years before pursuing higher education. Heck says she chose to study French and German later than many of her peers. “I only decided quite close to the application deadline, which would have been Year 13.” Most students in the United Kingdom commit to their specialized fields before they even become adults. Specializing so early may seem limiting to their career choices down the line. However, there are some benefits; for instance, subject-specific learning creates space for students to commit themselves to their interests without worrying about general education requirements—a point of recent contention at Harvard College.
Once students decide on a course, they must choose a College—one of Oxford’s many small, gated campuses where they live, eat, and study for all four years. Each college has a distinct character: the iconic Christ Church is known for its formal academic dress, age-based divisions in the dining hall, and political connections; Magdalen College, one of Oxford’s most photographed locations, is famous for its cultivation of literature and the arts and white tie formals; Worcester College is known for its inclusivity, bringing students and fellows together to dine in the hall. Students choose for themselves both a community and an identity before taking their first college course.
Harvard tosses every freshman into randomized housing in Harvard Yard, where we have a chance to meet students across concentrations, backgrounds, and dorms. Even meals at Harvard involve more choice: where Annenberg Hall offers a large buffet and salad bar included in students’ annual meal plan, Exeter College provides one pay-per-item menu at each meal. I personally have made some of my best friends by sitting down at random tables in Annenberg, open to 1,500 freshmen every day.
At Oxford, where every College has its own dining hall, friendships can be more limited. “Especially with my degree, I think it’s quite restrictive,” Dominic Monnet, an incoming senior and Ancient and Modern History scholar at Oxford, said. “I know there are some historians who have one friend outside of [their] College after two years.”
Ultimately, choosing the best-fitting country and institution for one’s higher education—a decision typically made around age seventeen—means committing to a lifelong community.
The singularities of Harvard seem distinctly American, as our school emphasizes individuality among its students and freedom of academic choice. On the other hand, Oxford’s peculiarities appear fundamentally English, as the school upholds important traditions and prizes dedication to one’s particular interests. Stepping out of one environment into the other has reminded me that a great education doesn’t look any one way; though there’s a lot of benefit to building a range of skills, college can also be a time to immerse oneself fully in one’s interests without a second thought.
Nuala Mernin ’29 (nmernin@college.harvard.edu) is busy working on her English accent.
