From Goa to York: adapting to different academic systems as an international student
April 24, 2026
#WeAreInternational Student Ambassador Navin Vinod Shirodkar tells us about his experiences studying as an undergraduate and postgraduate in the UK.
I still find it hard to believe it's been over five years since I first arrived in the UK. I still remember that foreign feeling of being at Heathrow Terminal: mask on face, suitcase in hand, and a head full of dreams. For someone who spent almost all their life growing up in that same beachside suburb in Goa, I felt it was almost surreal to move so far away from home to this place called York. Like thousands of international students, I arrived in the UK during a time of global uncertainty, fueled by hopes that I could cure cancer, solve ageing, and indulge in all those other naive fantasies of being fresh out of school. The excitement of having the opportunity to take my first steps towards becoming a Geneticist masked my fears of what having my first taste of the University experience would be tainted lockdowns and isolation driven by the pandemic.
I was prepared to face the obvious culture shock; I was often told it was a matter of when, not if. What I was not prepared for was how different the academic system was in the UK. I often found myself questioning: is this just a plain difference between high school and university-level education, or was there a large, systematic difference between how course content was graded and delivered across the Indian system I was so used to and the then-very-foreign UK-based system?
What is Right and Wrong?
An aspect of my first year that I really struggled with was getting to grips with the idea that there is no wrong answer if you can justify your answer and think more behind the why instead of the what, which, honestly, was antithetical to the very obvious right-and-wrong, information-driven system I was used to.
This got to the point where quite a lot of my assessments were very report-driven, and it was incredibly common to encounter long-form essay-type questions at the end of lectures or during workshop events and an immediate huge focus on scientific writing, which required a completely different skill set from the rote learning and retention mindset I had developed as part of studying for multiple entrance exams.
For the longest time, I couldn't frame even the most basic argument through a cited essay- wait, citations? It felt like everyone else had received a secret memo on how they worked. While I was stuck on the most basic hurdle: when to cite and what the 'right' amount is, which no amount of university advisory webpages on software and formatting could help with. A lot of my coursemates would spit out terms like p-values and statistical reporting of results, and seemed to have an uncanny premonition about how these assignments had to be formatted. Not to mention, everyone knew how to make all these graphs and figures in Excel, while my pen-and-paper-educated self discovered for the first time that I could scroll with two fingers on a touchpad two months into my degree!
Suddenly, it didn't matter if I could remember that a gorilla and a Russet potato have the same number of chromosomes or the name of every bone that makes up a foot but instead, I was asked to justify why chromosome count may not be the best metric for genetic complexity, or how a specific foot structure allowed humans to evolve toward more efficient bipedalism and what would be the greatest way I could graph this all and finish it off with a lovely conclusion neatly bowtied with a measure of statistical significance. I was being tested to see whether I was a more functional biologist rather than just a knowledgeable one.
While I appreciate that the course was trying to shape me into someone who could look at a question and frame an argument, I always wish there had been more foundational support to understand this very different mindset. While for some it might be common sense or second nature, for me it was a far cry from my binary right-and-wrong view of how biological questions could be answered. The university offered an 'overwhelming sea' of bookable sessions and workshops, yet these often felt like just one more exhausting task added to an already heavy workload, just to simply learn the 'academic language' required to succeed. Not to mention, this was on top of the usual work of settling into a completely new country and culture. I was incredibly fortunate to have a supportive Academic Supervisor who acted as my bridge. She gave me the initial guidance I needed to stop simply 'knowing' science and start 'thinking' like a scientist. But sometimes I think back to many of my international peers who didn't have as involved supervisors and had to struggle through a sea of infinite booking sessions alone just so they could translate their academic brilliance into this new academic format.
Why are my Professors so nice?
I was used to academic culture being strictly hierarchical, and these strong, rigid boundaries between students and lecturers were etched into my mind to the point that referring to my lecturers as anything other than Sir or Madam was unthinkable. I’m not sure what was more visceral: the shock of hearing my lecturers insist on a first-name basis, ‘Please, anything but Doctor, ' or the audible gasp they’d let out whenever I accidentally slipped a ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ into a casual conversation. I was in a strange but pleasant new world, dismantling the lifetime of hierarchy I was used to, where my lecturers treated me as an adult, a scientist in training, and, hopefully, a colleague to be. They were always happy to answer questions, many of which, in retrospect, were simple, clumsy and possibly daft, but they knew there was passion behind my curiosity that could be nurtured and polished into something rigorous, analytical, and independent; something that has now become essential in my day-to-day life as a PhD.
Something I was used to was the ineffability of authority. However, after moving to the UK, I was met with the exact opposite: many of my professors insisted that knowledge is fluid and that what I say now could be wrong tomorrow. Far from being unapproachable idols, they would invite debate, discourse, and criticism, and would welcome it if students could challenge something they say in a lecture, be it an outdated paper recently shown to be obsolete or just catching simple errors. I was learning that just because someone was senior didn't mean they were immune to error; in the end, evidence mattered most.
Even though my first year was mostly shrouded in online teaching, this warmth and care from my professors was still visible, with many doing these drop-in sessions where it was an informal chat with the cohort, and they would ask questions about what we thought about what was being taught and how they could improve, which was fascinating! Some of my best memories from my first year were of this weekly Friday evening quiz my department would run. It was there that I met faculty members who, beyond being brilliant, showed their 'human' side. Their personal (dare I say, slightly silly) anecdotes were more than just entertainment; they helped us navigate the weight of lockdown and gave us students the confidence to open up to other members of the cohort.
Getting Used To It All
As with most things, I felt time was the best teacher, and gradually, I began to map out the landscape of UK academia and work out how to actually access the 'buffet' of support I had once found so overwhelming. Be it through the university resource team, meeting lecturers during office hours, meeting my seniors at workshops and problem sessions. I guess, most of all, I learnt the importance of just asking the people in charge, say, for a module or assignment, “Is what I’m doing alright, or should I be doing something else?” I soon learnt that while university is about learning from experts, it is equally about cultivating independence.
This was also what opened my eyes to the fact that university is not just about coursework; it's also about personal growth, engaging in extracurriculars, building a diverse network of friends, and creating a support system that would sustain me far beyond graduation. I stopped viewing university as a degree to be earned and started seeing it as a space to explore who I actually was. In a way, for me, I felt most satisfied when I could say yes! Attitude, try new things and learn new skills. Within a few months of coming to the UK, I found myself president of the Biological Sciences Society, which I applied to just for fun, and it was where I would make my closest friends to this day. I took part in virtual teaching activities and discovered my love for teaching. On a whim, I applied to become a student ambassador; something that would go on to play an important role in my life till today, and make me feel more like myself.
Back to School
It has been over a year since I graduated from my Integrated Master's at York. After spending a year there as a research technician, I look back on a journey that began over half a decade ago, as if coming full circle; I am a student once again, though in a very different world. I have transitioned from the ancient city of York to the steel-hearted city of Sheffield, from the puzzling realm of genetics to a PhD focused on the physics of cell division.
I find it fascinating to compare my experiences as a PGR to my undergraduate studies. There is still the same buffet of drop-in support sessions for PGRs, a welcome focus on academic writing, and a fanfare of events to make me a more holistic scientist; all of which feel more like tools than chores. There is also a much more prominent conversation around work-life balance. Now that I have a newfound out-of-hours access keycard, it can be very tempting to work myself to the bone to try to cure cancer by next Tuesday, so it's reassuring to be told not to martyr myself for science and to build my scientific career sustainably. As they say, it's a marathon, not a sprint.
My interdisciplinary research at the interface of Physics and Biology requires me to navigate two very different academic cultures simultaneously and has exposed me to a variety of support systems, peers, and networks. As I try to navigate this brave new world, I have returned to it, and I find that building this community is as important as the data I am collecting in the lab.
I still carry a lot of what I learned from the first year of my undergrad studies; I keep trying new things and have that "Yes!" attitude; I now know how to reach out and where to reach out to ask for the support I need; and I still remember. As I packed my bags, it felt like I was moving through time again; all the friends and the support network I had worked so hard to build were being left behind. But this time was different. I wasn't the isolated student behind a webcam anymore. I was moving forward with the knowledge that those lifelong connections are now, thankfully, only a train ride away, and that the lessons I learnt I still carry with me.
For more information about academic life in the UK visit our Student advice page Study skills for success.
