The grand adventure of pursuing a master’s degree abroad!
Brian Chumbi Junior (MPH)
Let me regale you with a tale of attendance sheets, ID check-ins, and the occasional firing of shots, metaphorical ones, of course. Picture this: a young scholar (yours truly) embarking on a journey to a land where punctuality and attendance were not just encouraged but enforced with the precision of a Swiss watch. It was a far cry from the laid-back, “eh, we’ll catch up later” vibe of my undergraduate days. Oh, how the tables had turned!
Now, let me set the scene. Every class I attended and I mean "every" class, required me to sign my name on a sacred scroll (okay, it was just an attendance sheet, but let’s add some drama). It felt like I was signing the Declaration of Independence, except instead of declaring freedom, I was declaring, “Yes, I am here, and no, I am not napping in my dorm.” Meanwhile, my Malawian friend at another university had it even more high-tech. They had to check in with their student ID like they were boarding a flight. “Welcome to Advanced Quantum Mechanics. Please have your ID ready for scanning. We hope you enjoy your lecture.”
A decade from now, and I’m convinced that if I ever need to know which classes I missed, the university will whip out a dossier thicker than a Shakespeare anthology. “Ah, yes,” they’ll say, stroking their chin thoughtfully, “on the 14th of October, you missed a class. And on the 3rd of March, you were absent again. Oh, and let’s not forget that one time in November when you were "technically" present but left early to catch a sale at the campus bookstore.” (Okay, I made that last one up, but you get the idea.)
Now, here’s where the plot thickens. Even when I had the audacity to miss a class with prior notice, mind you, I was met with the fury of a thousand suns. Picture this: I sent an email days in advance, politely explaining that I would be absent due to some personal reasons I wasn't comfortable to share via email. The authorities acknowledged it. I thought, “Great, we’re all on the same page!” But alas! When I returned, I was greeted with what I can only describe as a verbal smackdown. A very polite, very British smackdown, but a smackdown nonetheless. “Missing classes is very disrespectful,” she said, her tone sharper than a freshly sharpened pencil. All I could do was stand there, nodding like a bobblehead, muttering apologies like I’d just been caught stealing cookies from the staff room.
And then came the email. Oh, the email. It was a masterpiece of passive-aggressive professionalism. “You are studying a full-time master’s degree,” it began, as if I’d somehow forgotten this crucial detail. “Therefore, you are expected to attend classes every day unless you have a "very serious reason" backed by "evidence".” Evidence! As if I were presenting a case in court rather than explaining why I needed a mental health day. I half-expected them to demand a notarised letter from my cat confirming I was too stressed to attend. Jokes!😅
Now, let’s rewind to my undergraduate days, where attendance policies were about as strict as a wet noodle. People would miss classes for days, sometimes weeks, and the most they’d get was a gentle, “Hey, you might want to catch up on the notes.” It was like the Wild West of academia, few rules if at all there were any, no consequences, just vibes. Missing a class? No big deal. Missing ten? Eh, you’ll figure it out.
But abroad? Oh no, my friend. Abroad, they took attendance so seriously it felt like they were preparing us for a career in espionage. “If you can’t commit to showing up for a 9:30 a.m. lecture on decolonisation in healthcare, how can we trust you to handle classified information?” they seemed to say.
In the end, though, I’m grateful for the marvellous experience. It taught me the value of discipline, the importance of showing up (literally), and the fine art of crafting a bulletproof excuse. And hey, if nothing else, it gave me a great story to tell, one that still makes me laugh, even if it did come with a side of mild trauma. So here’s to the universities that keep us on our toes, the professors who fire shots with a smile, and the attendance policies that remind us we’re all just trying to survive this thing called higher education. Cheers! 
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