It took me six years, and I'm proud of every second

Someone recently pointed out that it took me much longer to get my BA than it should have. More specifically, they asked whether the timeline was correct (like, how can it take you six years to complete a degree that should take three?). This is something I haven’t had to explain since 2012, and it got me thinking. Admittedly, my knee-jerk reaction was to clarify that I studied part-time and worked full-time to afford my degree. And that it was something I had always been extremely proud of.

To understand why I’m proud of it, rather than embarrassed, you have to go back further than the degree itself.

Lessons in earning every cent

Growing up in an intensely hard-working household, I learned from a very young age that everything you have must be earned. Don’t get me wrong, my parents weren’t standing over me and my siblings, whip in hand. No, they were just giving us household chores to earn some pocket money. Every week, if we did our chores, we would get R2 ($0.12 today). And the best day of the week? Friday! Because on a Friday we would get that R2, we would be able to go to school either to the ‘snoepie’ (tuckshop) to buy some sweeties, or use it to buy a hotdog or whatever yummy snacks the fundraising committee had for sale. 

As the youngest, I’ll admit I was always the one who would shy away from the ‘hard’ work bits. But over time, I came to deeply respect the lesson my parents had so lovingly taught us. Both of them came from generations of relentless workers, and as a united front, they led by example.

Fast forward a few years to when they decided to semi-grate to the Western Cape and buy a supermarket. The chore tradition expanded into working long hours in the shop alongside them. And then they were liquidated. They lost everything. My dad immediately pivoted to handyman jobs, walking door to door to advertise. That’s actually how he paid for my sister’s wedding, by redoing one of our neighbours’ roofs from scratch. Pure hard work. Eventually, he got a job on a farm, and we moved, only to be politely asked to leave a year or so later. That was right about the time I was in my last year of school. My parents had poured everything into building a better life for our family, and still lost it all.

Taking the wheel and funding my own way

My grandfather stepped in during my first year of studies, helping my parents secure a loan so I could get started. I waitressed on the side, but it didn’t take long to realise the true financial weight of my degree. By then, my dad had landed a job as a workshop manager at an amusement park in Cape Town. Even though my parents were getting back on their feet, I felt strongly that if I insisted on studying, funding it should be my responsibility, or at least partially my own.

So, I made up my mind: I would study part-time and work full-time to carry my weight. Once I decided, nobody could talk me out of it. Yes, I am stubborn that way. 

My first job was as a ticket seller at the amusement park where my dad worked. And, in true family fashion, I had saved every cent until I bought my first car, a 1976 Mini Clubman. I loved that car SO MUCH. My dad? Not so much. Purely because he was the first one I would call if something went wrong. Like the time the brakes weren’t braking.

Every phase, a few more hours

Soon after, I got an admin assistant position in a documentation department. That was my first ‘real’ office job. Working full-time meant I had to use what little time I had for my studies. No wild uni parties, just work, study, eat, sleep, repeat. One of the strategies that worked well for me was to get to work 2 hours ahead of time, which served two tactical purposes: a) to miss the Cape Town traffic, and b) to get some extra time for studying. And because this was before everything was digitised, every assignment had to be written out by hand and sent off by snail mail. I got along well with my colleagues and would usually hang out during ‘vacation’ time (when I wasn’t writing exams, studying, or completing assignments).

A string of admin jobs followed before I got a bee in my bonnet around 2009/2010 and thought: why not do an au pair year? I was one of the oldest au pairs in our group (and definitely the most pragmatic), but it was an incredible experience. Best of all I wrote my two final exams in The Hague.

And so, through sheer perseverance, I had my degree by late 2011. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, relieved yet somewhat intimidated. Most of my peers were already well established in their careers while I was entering the professional job market at square one. But I was finally at the starting line.

Why the grit was worth every second

Looking back, starting my formal career a few years "behind" my peers wasn't a handicap; it gave me something no classroom ever could. By the time I held that degree in my hand, I didn't just have academic credentials; I had six years of real-world operational grit, time-management mastery, and an unshakeable work ethic.

I know I am not alone in this. So many people don’t have the option for an ‘easy’ route through their twenties and have to start work immediately. Studies take place in whatever hours or with whatever funds are left. It’s not a sob story; it’s just how it goes for a lot of people.

It took me six years to finish a three-year degree, and I’d do it exactly the same way again.