As someone who left school at 16 due to challenging family circumstances, I was shocked by the recent suggestion by a UK vice-chancellor that students with no A levels should be barred from the student loan system.

In a talk at the British Academy’s Shape conference, Adam Tickell, vice-chancellor of University of Birmingham, raised questions about what people want from universities in the context of severely strained funding mechanisms. In particular, he highlighted the poorer average attainment of students entering higher education with non-standard . He suggested that offering loans to such students might not be good value for money, saying that “we’re investing so much money in people who…we are not really capable of graduating.”

Such a policy would have completely debarred me from university. Yet, at the age of 25, and already with three young children, I enrolled at the University of Sheffield and not only earned a degree but went on to a professorship. I know I’m not alone, either, in having taken an unusual route into academia. Sue Black, professor of computer science at Durham University, her strikingly similar history. Former Northampton University vice-chancellor left school at 16 to work in a local factory and only embarked on an access course when he was made redundant. And I am aware of several other academics who have not spoken publicly about their own related pre-university life experiences. Other mature-entry students I have known have flourished in a wide range of careers.

Clearly, the people who arrive through non-standard routes are a mixed bag and, unsurprisingly, there is evidence that their attainment may be variable (anecdotally it has often seemed almost bimodal to me). But we should be cautious in interpreting the averaged data, remembering that it may reflect prior opportunities and early-life experiences more than actual talent. In any case, the predictive value of prior qualifications is quite moderate.

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In these difficult times, I agree that it is essential to maximise “bang for buck” from our educational institutions, and we do need to think carefully about how to do this. But from an economic perspective higher education is fundamental to providing a workforce and social structure that is resilient, innovative and adaptable enough to face the challenges of our rapidly changing world. We cannot afford to toss away talented and creative people just because their school trajectory was not ideal.

The recent summary by the Quality Assurance Agency of 2022-23 access gives a painfully clear picture of which students would be negatively affected by Tickell’s plan. These students may have faced health or social challenges growing up. Or they may have plumped for a more practically-based educational experience such as an apprenticeship. Or they may return to education after a period in the workplace, early motherhood, caring responsibilities or other experiences. The tragedy of Tickell’s suggestion is that it would harm the very applicants for whom a degree could be most life-changing. The good people at the University of Sheffield who took a chance on me not only transformed my own life opportunities but also raised the aspirations of my children and grandchildren.

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It is also clear which kinds of universities would be most affected by Tickell’s suggestion: the local universities changing lives in their communities – often in less economically favoured parts of the country, where the need for social, cultural and economic development is greatest.

It seems to me that the better question to ask in light of the uneven degree results attained by entrants without A levels is whether we may be funnelling some of our young people into higher education too early. For me, for instance, 18 was not the right age to go to university. And for a range of reasons, many 18-year-olds are not in sufficiently stable circumstances or not yet mature enough to benefit. At that age, brain development is still ongoing, proceeding at different rates for different people and affected by a range of intrinsic and extrinsic factors unrelated to intellectual potential.

Moreover, those who enter higher education on the post-A-level conveyor belt may not have given sufficient thought to what they are studying and why. Many students choose courses on the basis of very limited experience, coupled with family and social group influences. I would contend that young people who have not yet had time to develop a sense of their own independent aims are more likely to be the ones who are not able to take best advantage of the educational experience.

Anyone who has observed the massive difference a placement year can make knows how important time and life experience can be – I have seen students (particularly young men) gain about 10 per cent in their grades after a year in the workplace. Such students may struggle to show their full capabilities through A levels.

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Even among those students for whom 18 is the right age to enter university, exposure to peers with a diversity of prior experience is beneficial – not only by being socially enriching, but also by providing a wider perspective that they can carry through to their own professional lives. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that we would all be better off if some policymakers and planners had a better idea of how people outside their own social bubble live.

To get maximum societal “payback” from our university system, then, perhaps we might consider offering more flexible entry routes and study modes. This could include normalising a sort of academic “”, when young people are encouraged try out a range of life directions – returning to education only when they are sure of what they want to do and are able to engage fully with the opportunities offered. 

is professor in human genomics at Brunel University of London and a visiting professor at Imperial College London.