When I began my degree in early 2023, one promise rang in my ears: You will graduate at the end of 2025. I built my life around that date. Rent, work, travel, everything was structured around a finish line I could see from the starting block.
Now, that promise has collapsed. Not because I failed a class. Not because I took time off. But because my university gave me incorrect advice about my study plan. That single misstep snowballed into two missed core introductory units that now stand between me and graduating on time.
The most frustrating part is how it came to light. After three years of emails, check-ins, and meetings with both the faculty and HiQ, each one assuring me I was on track, the truth emerged by chance. It was not a faculty member who noticed. It was an unrelated staff member who happened to spot the gap. Without her, I would still be unaware.
When I asked how this could happen after years of confirmation, the response was almost dismissive: “At least we found it now and not at the end of the year.” As if late discovery is a favour. As if that statement erases the stress, the financial burden, and the disruption to my future. The official explanation? A neat little phrase: a system error.
A system error, as though my future were no more significant than a frozen webpage that simply needs refreshing. As though it were not months of sleepless nights, recalculated plans, and thousands of dollars in additional fees, rent, and living costs if my degree stretches into 2026.
The Paper Trail
I have kept every email, every message, every screenshot of my study plan confirming I was on track. You never realise how important that record is until you are in an office, explaining to yet another staff member that you are not the problem.
From my first semester, I followed every piece of advice: tick this box, enrol in that subject, you are on track. No one flagged the missing units. By the time the mistake surfaced, it was too late to enrol through standard channels.
The “Solution”
The university’s proposed solution is to push my graduation to July 2026. They even suggested mailing my parchment earlier, as though that compensates for missing the ceremony with my peers and delaying career plans.
In reality, the solution is simple: late enrolment into those two units in the current semester. Two classes. That is all that stands between me and graduating on time. Yet instead of fast-tracking that decision, given the university’s role in creating this problem, I am trapped in a bureaucratic maze where “system error” is somehow not sufficient grounds for an exception.
The Ongoing Fight
After weeks of back-and-forth, I finally secured faculty approval to overload to 72 credit points this semester, above the normal 60. This allowed me to enrol in the two missing units, but the battle is far from over.
Because they are “introductory,” I am now pushing forward with recognition of prior learning. I already work in the industry, applying the very skills these units are designed to teach. If I have come this far in my degree without them, it seems unreasonable to insist I cannot meet the learning outcomes. Pursuing advanced standing has meant gathering statements, endless paperwork, and justifying why I should not be forced to retread ground I already cover in my professional life.
What concerns me most is how many other students may be in the same position without knowing it.
Universities assume students will manage their own study plans. To an extent, that is reasonable. But when you are new to tertiary study, you rely on faculty advice to be accurate. You trust the people responsible for your course to guide you correctly. When that advice is wrong, the consequences are not just academic. It can mean another year of your life lost.
Meanwhile, institutions benefit from prolonged enrolments: more tuition fees, more government funding, and more full-fee-paying international students filling places. I am not suggesting my case was deliberate, but when the system is structured so that delays benefit the institution, can it really be considered neutral?
The Emotional Toll
This situation is not just about money or time. It is about the psychological burden of being forced into limbo. Every plan I had for 2026 is now uncertain. I cannot apply for jobs that require a completed degree. I cannot move cities without clarity on my finish date. Even my parents, who booked flights to attend my graduation, must change their plans.
And all of it because my future was reduced to a tick box that went unchecked.
What Needs to Change
If a “system error” can derail an entire degree, there must be a process for immediate rectification. Not weeks of deliberation. Not “case by case.” Students in this situation should be granted automatic late enrolment or an alternative pathway at no additional cost.
There should also be proactive, annual checks of every student’s study plan, not simply a disclaimer that “it is your responsibility,” but genuine faculty confirmation that a student is on track.
And most importantly, there must be accountability. A “system error” is not an explanation. It is evidence of a failure in process, and that failure should not come at the expense of students.
Why I Am Writing This
I am sharing my story because I know I am not the only one. If you have not recently reviewed your study plan, do it now. Book a meeting. Ask for written confirmation. Keep every document.
Universities like to speak about “student success.” But real student success requires more than motivational slogans. It demands systems that support students rather than quietly sabotaging them.
For now, I am still fighting for recognition of prior learning and the chance to prove that I am more than capable of completing my degree on time. I have the emails, the paper trail, and the belief that when an institution makes a mistake of this scale, it should be the one to fix it. Students should not be forced to pay the price for errors beyond their control.
I am not angry. I am not sad. I am enraged. Enraged that I have been let down by a system, an institution, a community of people I have given so much to.
