LSESU AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL

Rajaa Saleem Sahgal

With a firm grip on my folder and my documents organized in the likelihood of being examined, I await my turn in the mazelike queue. A man awaits me with a stern expression, deciding whether to give me one stamp that would guarantee the security of my status as a student. I hastily run through all the flagged emails assuring me that circumstances had been noted down and passed on to the relevant departments, but how can I rely on just one institution that is under-staffed and over-worked? These fears and insecurities are not mine alone. They’re shared by a community – the community of international students subjected to vulnerabilities at the hands of the Tier 4 Visa regulations.

Put simply, the reported absences policy at the LSE operates on a “three strikes and you’re out” basis. Should a Tier 4 Visa student miss three classes in a row, an automatically generated warning email is issued, explicitly stating the sanctions that will follow should such behaviour continue. Even when missing classes isn’t your fault, even when you send constant reminders to the relevant individuals and departments with appropriate evidence attached, such emails continue bombarding the inboxes of already distressed students, calling into question whether you have done enough or whether it was it too little, too late.

The student attendance policy in line with the rigid structure of the Tier 4 Visa for the international student body has run its due course in fuelling an already dreadful environment by playing on the physical and mental wellbeing and vulnerabilities of its targets. There can be no one-size-fits-all sanctions mechanism that appropriately caters to individuals coming from significantly varying backgrounds who deal with personal dilemmas that may or may not be linked to their backgrounds. The marginalization begins, even before one is subjected to these contractual terms, with the Tier 4 Visa requirements themselves. This involves, for some nationals, police registration upon arrival, a Tuberculosis test, skyrocketing visa prices, an NHS surcharge, and/or a detailed intensive visa interview. The processes for such procedures are anything but clear or transparent, and occasionally there have been cases of false diagnosis or misdiagnosis of the medical proof required. These inconsistencies do not end with the clearance of sponsorship; they are replicated afterwards and make life as a Tier 4 Visa student all the more frustrating.

To compensate for one’s absences under extenuating circumstances, evidence either in the form of a death or a medical certificate is mostly required. In the case of a sudden emergency, obtaining this kind of proof on short notice in addition to coping with an incident is a burden that, to say the least, ought to be done away with. A&E waiting times, extremely limited GP appointment slots, and additional queuing for follow-up tests (be it blood labs, x-rays or ultrasounds) further delay a students’ ability to obtain explanatory proof. Under the standards for evidence requirements, prescriptions and test results do not count as sufficient. The proof that universities do accept – medical certificates – are increasingly difficult to request, as they rely on the results of tests which may take several weeks to carry out. Practitioners may simply not empathize with or take into serious consideration the extent of the pain or illness, may dismiss it as irrelevant or, in a rush, may end up misdiagnosing students. This serves to be a pertinent issue for women especially, who have been subjected to longer waiting times, been denied pain medication prescription, and had their pain dismissed as routine and trivial. Medical certificates in some surgeries cost up to £25, further complicating accessibility. Acquiring a death certificate in due course is another constraint since governments follow different timelines and procedures, and it can take even longer to procure an officially notarized translation. It is furthermore questionable how issues of more personal issues, relating to mental health or family troubles, for instance, can be reductively documented or diagnosed with proof in the first place. The derogatory justifications required to address the attendance monitoring add fuel to the fire.

Once a student clears all these hurdles, the next stage involves them having to continuously update, follow and remind their department, seminar teachers and academic advisors – despite having provided proof – to be marked as an “absent with reason” in student registers. Responses are not always guaranteed, and neither is the assurance that one’s circumstances be taken into consideration and implemented for the duration. While students have access to coping strategies in the form of inclusion plans and individual exam adjustments, the issue at hand remains: Students first point of contact, their academic advisors, are often unaware of such options and don’t understand the ways in which they operate. Having to constantly chase them down to allay students’ fears, students’ situation is made worse by a lack of awareness about the support they can receive to tackle such situations.

For Tier 4 Visa students, adjusting to a massive cultural shift in every way possible – be it the university teaching style itself or integration as a whole – already requires strenuous efforts. But to do so in an increasingly hostile, policed environment by being tracked through attendance monitoring and deportation threats causes nothing but emotional and psychological damage. The site of a mere Home Office van could be enough to trigger one’s doubts, even if all the necessary evidence, documents and clarifications have been clearly presented. As the motto “to know the causes of things” remains embedded in the LSE student charter and if raising student satisfaction and ratings truly is the chief concern of the institution, then students require a more lenient, empathetic approach in terms of class attendance, not the constant threat of poison-laced warnings.