Navigating the storms of student success

With the recent release of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey, I found myself thinking about the importance of journeys in life, and successful student journeys in higher education.

Odysseus’s long and turbulent return to Ithaca, his trials and tribulations, and the transformation he undergoes along the way have remarkable resonance with the journeys our students experience in HE. I began to wonder whether Homer’s epic might offer a different lens for thinking about student success.

The storms and challenges Odysseus encounters mirror many realities faced by students today – the cost-of-living crisis, family commitments and caring responsibilities, self-doubt, mental health issues – and the list goes on.

The lotus flowers might symbolise losing their way or becoming disconnected from their purpose, Circe’s island might represent a leave of absence in the student journey – not the end of a voyage, but a transition point to pause before continuing. Athena almost perfectly represents an excellent personal tutor, supporting, guiding and empowering Odysseus to navigate his own journey, rather than steering the ship for him.

The crew represent peers and remind us that no meaningful voyage is undertaken alone. Clear expectations and transparent curricula are the detailed maps, safe harbours become transition points, moments of reconnection and reorientation, where students pause, reflect and prepare before setting sail again. Even predictive analytics can be viewed differently in this metaphor, not as identifying students “at risk,” but as forecasting where storms may lie so that preparation and support can begin before the weather turns.

Perhaps most importantly is the realisation that the purpose of The Odyssey is not that Odysseus enjoys calm seas or an uncomplicated voyage. Indeed, quite the opposite is true. The story is about challenge, uncertainty and adversity, and, ultimately, like our students, Odysseus is transformed by these experiences.

The storms are not incidental to the story, they are the story.

Not every storm can be avoided

This is not to romanticise adversity, nor to suggest that avoidable barriers somehow benefit students.

In higher education, we focus on removing barriers, and where we can, we absolutely should. Our institutional structures may represent the gods in this metaphor; much of Odysseus’s journey is shaped by external forces, decisions and conflicts over which he has little influence or control.

Higher education has its own hierarchies, policies and bureaucracies that can similarly shape a student’s journey, sometimes enabling progress and sometimes placing obstacles in its path. Part of our institutional responsibility is to recognise when the storm is not inevitable, but one we have created ourselves.

However, many of life’s storms cannot be avoided. Students will experience uncertainty, setbacks, illness, and moments when they question whether they should continue. Perhaps then, we should reframe the purpose, not simply to create smooth journeys, but to help students become skilled navigators, equipping them with the skills, knowledge, confidence, and drive to navigate storms successfully.

Keeping sight of Ithaca (progression) matters too. When students can keep the end in sight, today’s storms become less likely to cause them to abandon ship. We must help them focus on the destination that gives those challenges meaning.

Smooth sailing

Continuation, completion, and graduate outcomes rightly matter, but they can inadvertently reinforce an idea of success as smooth sailing. However, if university prepares graduates for an increasingly uncertain world, why would we define success as the absence of uncertainty? Perhaps we should ask instead, how do universities help students become capable navigators?

Navigation is not an innate quality. It is learned. Sailors, like Odysseus, become navigators through experience, reflection and practice. They learn to read changing conditions, seek advice when needed, and trust both their own judgement and their crew.

The same is true of students. They develop confidence through overcoming challenges, a sense of belonging through travelling alongside others, and critical appraisal skills through reflecting on experiences – and writing assignments – that do not always go according to plan.

Perhaps then, this concept of the skilled navigator offers a perspective on a much broader issue currently facing our sector, the value of higher education itself?

In an age where knowledge is increasingly accessible, and artificial intelligence can explain almost any concept, it is understandable that prospective students question whether a degree is still worth the investment. Public debate often reduces this question to salary, tuition fees or return on investment, overlooking something more profound.

Value in the voyage

If knowledge alone was the intrinsic value of HE, then its value would inevitably diminish as knowledge becomes more accessible. Perhaps the distinctive value lies elsewhere, not simply in what students know when they leave, but in who they have become through this journey of learning.

Perhaps this offers an explanation for why many employers recruit graduates from a range of disciplines rather than insisting upon specific degree subjects. They are not simply employing a body of disciplinary knowledge, they are investing in someone who has demonstrated the capacity to learn independently, solve unfamiliar problems, collaborate and adapt in changing circumstances, reflect critically and persevere against uncertainty.

In other words, they are employing someone who has become a skilled navigator. Seen through this lens graduate attributes are not separate from the student journey. They are the product of it. The storms matter because they transform the navigator.

Like Odysseus returning to Ithaca, graduates return to society not as the same people who embarked on their studies, but with new knowledge and perspectives, greater confidence and a different identity. They move into employment, postgraduate study or other opportunities, carrying not simply a qualification, but the capability to navigate future challenges.

Perhaps that is the true purpose of higher education. It’s not to promise a straightforward voyage, but to cultivate people who can navigate an uncertain world with wisdom, confidence, purpose, and compassion. Through meaningful relationships, inclusive learning, and timely guidance, universities can equip students not merely to survive the voyage, but to sail with confidence beyond it.

Graduation is therefore not the end of the journey, but the moment students leave the harbour under their own command, ready to navigate the seas ahead and, ultimately, to find their own Ithaca.