There are many classic Glasgow student fears: The Subway shutting at 6pm just when you needed it, the JMS lifts deciding they’ve had enough of this life, or a pigeon clocking your Greggs bag from across Kelvingrove Park like it’s personal. But nothing—absolutely nothing—sends you into a full psychological spiral like that tiny, polite, devastating notification: “Feedback available.”
It’s always at the worst possible time.
Maybe you’ve finally found a seat in the library that isn’t next to someone blasting TikToks raw. Maybe you’re in the Fraser Building pretending your £4.10 latte is “self-care.” Maybe you’re trudging through sideways rain on University Avenue, already emotionally fragile as is.
And then your phone buzzes. Your stomach drops. You briefly consider changing your name, degree, and postcode.
You stare at the email like it’s a hex. “View your grades,” it whispers ominously—like the academic version of a Byres Road landlord asking if you’ve “read the contract properly.”
You start the dance every Glasgow student knows far too well:
- Pretend you didn’t see it.
- Realise you definitely did.
- Walk aimlessly past the Main Gate as if fresh air will make this better,
- Open the email. Close it. Reopen it. Panic.
- Finally click the link while whispering “please be a C3” like a prayer.
Then Moodle loads at a pace that feels truly hostile.
You think about that essay you submitted at 11:58pm from a damp flat in Partick with a WiFi connection powered by sheer hope.
You remember that one paragraph that was… ambitious.
You remember the referencing you “fixed later” and absolutely did not fix.
And then—because Moodle exists solely to test character—the page loads all at once.
There it is. A number. A verdict. A comment beginning with the chilling phrase: “While you demonstrate some understanding…”
Your soul departs the premises.
Sometimes the feedback is fine. Sometimes it’s brutal. Sometimes it’s written so vaguely you wonder if your tutor is describing your essay or the weather. And then there’s the worst-case scenario: The attached feedback file. A full PDF. Multiple pages. Lines highlighted. Comments in the margins. A written autopsy of your all-nighter.
That’s when you know you’re not seeing the light of day for a bit.
But here’s the most Glasgow part of all: You walk out afterward, rain smacking you horizontally in the face, thinking, Aye… could’ve been worse.
Because being a Glasgow Uni student means accepting that between rogue crows, weird student politics, the Reading Room’s unspoken crisp ban, and paying £650/month to live in what is essentially a shoebox with windows, the scariest thing in your life will always be that email.
So next time “Feedback available” pops up on your phone, remember: Somewhere in your student accommodation, or in a Kelvinbridge flat with questionable mould, or in the Fraser Building pretending they “just came here to study,” another student is screaming internally too.
We survive the cold.
We survive the rent.
We survive the bus that never arrives.
But tutor feedback? That’s the final boss.
