Ready, Set...no Wait!

Lately, I’ve been picturing the start of the academic year like a race. My students, lined up at the starting line, ready to begin their creative education. Same modules. Same materials. Same “go” signal.

But in reality, not everyone is starting from the same place.

Some are already metres ahead, familiar with the terrain. Others are still scrambling to tie their shoelaces. A few haven’t even made it to the track yet – they’re wandering around, trying to find the right entrance.

And if we treat “beginning” like it’s the same for everyone, we risk misunderstanding silence as laziness, hesitation as disinterest, or confusion as lack of effort. But in reality? Some students have already climbed a mountain just to show up. Let’s not ask them to sprint before we’ve seen the weight they’re carrying.

The invisible distance

Let’s look at the students who begin behind the line – the ones carrying more than we can see.

• Some are anxious – not about the work, but about being seen doing it wrong. They’re too busy wondering what others will think to hear what’s being asked of them.

• Some are nervous about what’s coming next, scanning the room for confirmation that they belong.

• Others have had prior learning experiences that stifled their creativity – schools where neatness trumped originality, or where “doing it right” mattered more than thinking differently.

• Some have no support system. They’re working jobs, navigating financial stress, caring for siblings, dealing with grief, culture shock, or burnout from the journey it took just to get here.

• They may be neurodivergent and still figuring out how to communicate what they need.

• Others are first-generation university students, English might not be their first language, and the pressure to “succeed” is immense.

And all of this happens before they’ve even posed for their obligatory mugshot.

Meanwhile, further up the track…

At the same time, some students are already off the blocks.

• They’ve attended open days. They’ve spoken to tutors. Maybe they’ve met the teaching team already and know what to expect.

• They’ve had well-funded, creatively supportive education.

• They’ve used the Adobe Suite since GCSE.

• Their parents understand their subject and support their ambitions.

• They’ve got fewer external worries – no job, no dependents, no urgent financial stress.

• They arrive with a clearer picture of the industry, a safety net if things go wrong, and the confidence that someone will be there to help them bounce back.

They’re not better students – just better positioned to begin. Those who start further ahead haven’t done anything wrong; they’re ready to go, and that’s great. But not everyone gets to begin with the same sense of clarity, calm or confidence. And if we only build our teaching around the ones who are already running, we miss the chance to bring others along with us.

Why this matters in creative education

Creative education demands vulnerability. It asks students to “take risks”, speak up, make something from nothing and accept that mistakes are part of the process.

But risk feels different depending on where you’re standing. To one student, asking a question might feel like curiosity. To another, it feels like exposure.

To one, the blank page is an invitation. To another, it’s a threat.

If we don’t take into account how much emotional, social or cultural labour it takes some students to even begin, we risk misinterpreting quiet as disinterest, hesitation as laziness, or confusion as a lack of effort.

Worse, we risk reinforcing the very barriers that kept them behind the line in the first place.

So what can educators do?

Here are some shifts that I’ve found helpful – small interventions that can make a big difference to how students experience that first stretch of the race:

1. Normalise the nerves. Say it out loud: “If you’re feeling unsure right now, that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not creative. It means you’re human.”

2. Praise the beginning, not just the outcome. Celebrate messy starts, flawed first drafts, brave questions. Reward progress, not polish.

3. Spot the silent strugglers. Students who hand in good work might still be struggling quietly. Students who haven’t spoken yet may just be waiting to feel safe enough to try.

4. Check assumptions. Don’t assume everyone knows what a “crit” is, or what a “campaign” entails. Make the implicit explicit.

5. Recognise the effort it took to arrive. If a student tells you, “I nearly didn’t come in today,” count that as a win. They’re already doing the work.

Final thought: before they begin, see where they’ve come from

Not everyone starts from the same line. Some are running in trainers. Others are running in work boots. Some had a map. Others are navigating in a second language, without one.

Creativity doesn’t reward the most confident or the most prepared. It rewards those who have the courage to begin — especially when beginning feels hard. And sometimes, the act of showing up is the most creative thing a student will do all week.

As educators, our job isn’t just to get everyone running at the same pace. It’s to understand the distance each one had to travel just to step up to the start.