Workplace wellbeing in UK higher education is often framed as an organisational duty of care: strategies, resources, policies, surveys, and centrally designed initiatives intended to support staff in increasingly pressurised environments. These approaches matter – but they are rarely sufficient on their own.
Wellbeing is not only something that is delivered to staff; it is also something that is practised, negotiated, and sustained through everyday working lives. In universities where workloads are high, identities are strongly tied to roles, and boundaries between work and personal life are increasingly blurred, opportunities to restore energy and connection are limited. This has become even more pronounced since the pandemic, as hybrid working has reduced informal contact and eroded some of the shared rhythms of campus life.
I want to reflect on what one small, staff-led initiative reveals about workplace wellbeing in higher education. Using the example of a grass-roots staff choir at Durham University, I’d like to make the case that collective activities initiated and sustained by employees themselves can complement formal wellbeing provision – and that this tells us something about the shared responsibilities of institutions and individuals in creating healthier academic workplaces.
Why the choir began
In 2019, while balancing full-time work with caring responsibilities, it became clear that something essential was missing from my working life. Music. Singing in particular had always been a vital way for me to manage stress, replenish energy, and maintain a sense of wellbeing. Wanting to reintroduce this in a way that could fit around work and childcare, I set about creating a lunchtime choir on campus.
Drawing on my musical background and existing professional networks, I approached colleagues I knew were musical and interested. A small group came together, initially around a dozen people, meeting once a week during the working day. Over time, the choir grew to a wider mailing list, drawing staff from across academic and professional services roles, and it now has 50 members on its books.
The choir developed organically rather than strategically. It was not created in response to a wellbeing framework or institutional target, but out of a shared desire for something that many colleagues felt was missing: a space that felt restorative, communal, and separate from day-to-day pressures.
Why the choir matters
Feedback from members has been remarkably consistent. Rehearsal is often described as the highlight of the week on campus. Some staff who otherwise work from home regularly choose to schedule their on-campus days around choir rehearsals so they do not miss them.
In the rehearsal room, job titles recede. People arrive first and foremost as singers, not as managers, administrators, researchers, or lecturers. In a sector characterised by hierarchy and role differentiation, this temporary levelling matters. It creates a rare form of psychological safety and shared focus, where people feel present, connected, and valued beyond their formal roles.
The physical effects are visible as well as reported: lowered shoulders, deeper breathing, relaxed posture, and lighter moods as people leave the room. These moments are modest, but cumulative. They shape how people experience their working week and their sense of belonging within the institution.
Over time, the choir has been invited to contribute to a small number of institutional events, including occasions hosted by senior leadership. While these moments have been affirming for members, their significance lies less in visibility or prestige and more in what they demonstrate: that grass-roots wellbeing initiatives, when sustained and supported informally, can become part of the wider fabric of university life without losing their original purpose.
The wellbeing case for workplace choirs
The evidence linking singing to wellbeing is well established. Research shows that singing can lower cortisol levels, improve breathing and posture, release endorphins and oxytocin, reduce stress and anxiety, and strengthen social bonding. These benefits are valuable in any context, but they are particularly relevant in higher education, where staff morale is often under strain and opportunities for informal connection have diminished.
Workplace choirs offer something that many formal wellbeing interventions struggle to provide: regular, collective, embodied experience that builds relationships across departments and roles. They are relatively inexpensive, adaptable, and sustainable, particularly when they emerge from staff interest rather than top-down design.
But – crucially – initiatives like this do not replace the need for structural change. Fair workloads, secure contracts, supportive management, and realistic expectations remain fundamental to staff wellbeing. Structural problems cannot be solved through cultural activities alone.
What staff-led initiatives do show, however, is that wellbeing is most effective when it is co-produced. When institutions create the conditions that allow such activities to emerge, through trust, permission, and practical flexibility, and when staff feel able to claim time and space for collective wellbeing within the working day, something more durable can take root.
In a sector grappling with declining morale, rebuilding shared experiences may be one of the most overlooked resources available to higher education. Universities are not only systems and strategies; they are communities of people. Supporting the everyday practices that help those communities to flourish should be understood as a shared responsibility and a central part of how we think about wellbeing at work.
