For
By Emma MacArthur
I came across a Reddit thread, in which someone asked if they should apply for Pollock Halls as a southern boarding school attendee, although they had heard it was ‘snobby.’ The top response was “Mate, if you went to a fairly posh Southern boarding school, then what the f*ck are you even worried about.”
To begin, I feel I should expose myself. I was in Grant House. Yes, I was indeed a first year student in Pollock Halls.
I’m hesitant to comply with the rather Saltburn-esque view that all those who choose to inhabit Pollock are future Made In Chelsea stars with intolerable ‘Binty’ type-names. But those of us who lived and breathed this experience would be fooling ourselves if we denied that the majority stakeholders in the Pollock experience were boarding-school Londoners.
A core memory, if you will, would be finding out in my first semester that prior to even the start of freshers week, there was a group chat formed of those attending Pollock— specifically from a choice few famous boarding schools around England.
Those awkward freshers’ conversations also had a nauseating little Pollock twist. Instead of “What course are you doing?” it was “what school did you go to?” You would watch as faces fell in disappointment, lamenting that you did not attend some Hogwarts-type, established in 130 BC, red-brick boarding school.
I wouldn’t change my first year experience. I made wonderful friends and had a great time. But the stereotype is correct; there is a demographic of deep privilege, with some making friendships that intentionally keep them within the same social microcosm that they have always known. It is this exclusivity which creates the idea within the university that Pollock is a separate entity from the rest of the student body. Thus, a divide based on perceived socio-economic difference is created, which can only be described as unhealthy, and frankly, archaic.
All of us who experienced Edinburgh’s first year would have heard scathing comments and conversations surrounding the (pretty valid) Pollock stereotype. This, to me, confirms that there is not only an unhealthy divide, but a deep dislike from the rest of the student population towards Pollock Halls.
Against
By Eliza Lewin
The Pollock/non-Pollock distinction seems like a clear-cut line. I get it – as someone in self-catered accommodation, all the stereotypes might make it tempting to draw correlations, and it’s all the more affirming when someone from Pollock fits the stereotypes. But ascribing too much power to the Pollock versus non-Pollock distinction can speak an otherwise unsubstantial divide into existence.
Though this division is all the rage in first year, by fourth year it’s often something people neither know nor care about. I’ve met enough people from either side of the
Pollock/non-Pollock divide for the distinction to have become irrelevant. To be honest, I started getting along with people a lot better when I stopped asking them what accommodation they were from.
People love to complain that Pollock Halls is a cult separated by its location from the other Edinburgh accoms, but actually, Pollock isn’t special in the way that it locationally divides people. Student accommodation divides happen everywhere regardless of them being catered or uncatered, whether on Cowgate, Beaverbank, or Shrubhill. It’s natural to bond with who you walk home with from the club every night – but that’s only one part of where you meet people as a student, and after first year the locational proximity is no longer relevant at all.
It shouldn’t be denied that there are high and alienating levels of privilege in the most expensive catered accommodation, but self-catered halls aren’t free from that either. Making a snap judgement of someone’s character (tempting as it may be) based on where they lived in first year is a habit that often misleads more times than it is helpful. Such a lazy blanket description can give many people in self-catered halls a misplaced sense of moral superiority.
“Pollock” has incredible lasting power as an effective and satisfying shorthand for a certain type of privilege. But beyond the jokes, is it really such an easy distinction? There may be many divides and inequalities within the student body, but thinking that they can all be split neatly along the Pollock dividing line is a misconception every first year should unlearn.
One Coin, Two Sides: Does Pollock create an unhealthy divide between students?
For
By Emma MacArthur
I came across a Reddit thread, in which someone asked if they should apply for Pollock Halls as a southern boarding school attendee, although they had heard it was ‘snobby.’ The top response was “Mate, if you went to a fairly posh Southern boarding school, then what the f*ck are you even worried about.”
To begin, I feel I should expose myself. I was in Grant House. Yes, I was indeed a first year student in Pollock Halls.
I’m hesitant to comply with the rather Saltburn-esque view that all those who choose to inhabit Pollock are future Made In Chelsea stars with intolerable ‘Binty’ type-names. But those of us who lived and breathed this experience would be fooling ourselves if we denied that the majority stakeholders in the Pollock experience were boarding-school Londoners.
A core memory, if you will, would be finding out in my first semester that prior to even the start of freshers week, there was a group chat formed of those attending Pollock— specifically from a choice few famous boarding schools around England.
Those awkward freshers’ conversations also had a nauseating little Pollock twist. Instead of “What course are you doing?” it was “what school did you go to?” You would watch as faces fell in disappointment, lamenting that you did not attend some Hogwarts-type, established in 130 BC, red-brick boarding school.
I wouldn’t change my first year experience. I made wonderful friends and had a great time. But the stereotype is correct; there is a demographic of deep privilege, with some making friendships that intentionally keep them within the same social microcosm that they have always known. It is this exclusivity which creates the idea within the university that Pollock is a separate entity from the rest of the student body. Thus, a divide based on perceived socio-economic difference is created, which can only be described as unhealthy, and frankly, archaic.
All of us who experienced Edinburgh’s first year would have heard scathing comments and conversations surrounding the (pretty valid) Pollock stereotype. This, to me, confirms that there is not only an unhealthy divide, but a deep dislike from the rest of the student population towards Pollock Halls.
Against
By Eliza Lewin
The Pollock/non-Pollock distinction seems like a clear-cut line. I get it – as someone in self-catered accommodation, all the stereotypes might make it tempting to draw correlations, and it’s all the more affirming when someone from Pollock fits the stereotypes. But ascribing too much power to the Pollock versus non-Pollock distinction can speak an otherwise unsubstantial divide into existence.
Though this division is all the rage in first year, by fourth year it’s often something people neither know nor care about. I’ve met enough people from either side of the
Pollock/non-Pollock divide for the distinction to have become irrelevant. To be honest, I started getting along with people a lot better when I stopped asking them what accommodation they were from.
People love to complain that Pollock Halls is a cult separated by its location from the other Edinburgh accoms, but actually, Pollock isn’t special in the way that it locationally divides people. Student accommodation divides happen everywhere regardless of them being catered or uncatered, whether on Cowgate, Beaverbank, or Shrubhill. It’s natural to bond with who you walk home with from the club every night – but that’s only one part of where you meet people as a student, and after first year the locational proximity is no longer relevant at all.
Nothing is changing, because feminism and environmentalism are the outcasts of politics
It shouldn’t be denied that there are high and alienating levels of privilege in the most expensive catered accommodation, but self-catered halls aren’t free from that either. Making a snap judgement of someone’s character (tempting as it may be) based on where they lived in first year is a habit that often misleads more times than it is helpful. Such a lazy blanket description can give many people in self-catered halls a misplaced sense of moral superiority.
“Pollock” has incredible lasting power as an effective and satisfying shorthand for a certain type of privilege. But beyond the jokes, is it really such an easy distinction? There may be many divides and inequalities within the student body, but thinking that they can all be split neatly along the Pollock dividing line is a misconception every first year should unlearn.
Photo by Ulia Makoveeva for The Student.
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