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Tag: student

Tax doesn’t have to be taxing

Is calculating tax returns your idea of hell?
Image: Darren Shaw.

As students, we need all the extra cash we can get, and often a part time job will help considerably with rent, bills etc. But what about self employment?

It may seem like a scary proposal: how would I be able to run my own business while studying? What do I need to get started? What would I do? Will I have time? Are students even allowed to do that?

The answer is yes, you can be self employed while studying!

I recently registered as self employed for freelance writing. It’s something that I enjoy doing, which means it doesn’t even feel like I’m working. I also feel that it would be almost impossible to fit in a “real” part-time job around university, particularly because the veterinary course has so much contact time, and it would be very difficult to find fixed working hours that would accommodate that. The freedom and flexibility are definitely major positives of being self-employed.

But writing isn’t the only option; there are lots of things that you could do and make a bit of spare cash from. There are a few self-employed students out there, you just might not be aware of it.

Could baking be your way of earning a few extra pounds? Image (and chocolate button cake) by Rebecca Hubbard.

I know of people at Glasgow and other universities who earn money from a variety of sources. One of my high-school friends makes teddies from different fabrics by hand and sells them via her Facebook page. Another student makes very high quality professional-looking cakes for occasions in her spare time.

As an employee, you get paid every month and generally won’t get taxed because a part-time job would mean you don’t come anywhere near the earnings threshold. If you did get taxed accidentally, filling out a simple form (or having a word with your employer) would ensure a tax rebate. So getting your hands on your hard-earned cash and keeping hold of it is fairly straightforward.

Self employment, on the other hand, involves a much more proactive process. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been learning the jargon, trying to get my head around National Insurance contributions and making a start on my tax return. It’s all very new and while it seems like a headache at the minute, once I get into the swing of things, I’m sure I’ll get the paperwork done in no time.

All in all, the extra paperwork is completely worth being able to do what I love, when I want, while getting paid for it.

June 5, 2013
To cull or not to cull?

For some time now, the badger cull debate has been ongoing, and finally, despite continuing setbacks from the RSPCA and other supporters of “Team Badger”, such as iconic Brian May, things seem to be moving.

Brian May filming for the BBC’s The One Show for an anti-badger culling campaign. By Norbie (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
With a well-loved famous figure heading the “against” argument for the cull, the public are easily led to believe that this argument must be the right one. Unfortunately, however, the naivety of these “townies” obscures their view of the bigger picture.

Since the proposal of the cull, badgers have become something of a national mascot, with the public claiming that they are an irreplaceable element of the British countryside; part of the wildlife we simply cannot afford to lose. This is all very well, but before the proposal of the cull, were they seen as anything more than roadkill that could easily write off your car? And I wonder that if it were found that rats or pigeons were carrying a disease such as TB, would there be equal public outcry?

The RSPCA claims that culling is not the solution to the problem of TB in cattle. Again, it’s difficult for the sheltered public to consider the possibility that the most well known animal charity in the country could have gotten it wrong. The truth is, the cull would never have been suggested if there were no need for it. We are not a nation of bloodthirsty, mindless killers, but we are a nation that believes in doing what’s right for our animals.

Defra claims there is scientific evidence for an increased incidence of bovine TB in areas where the badger population is high. In areas where, 10 years ago, TB was unheard of, since an increase in badger numbers, the disease is now rife among cattle. This effects both the beef and the dairy industry considerably, and cannot be allowed to continue to do so. It essential that we halt the increasing incidence of bovine TB, and currently, our key method of control would be to, indeed, pursue the badger cull.

Thanks to increased publicity, such as this ‘anti-cull’ poster from the RSPCA, badgers have become something of a national mascot.

For many farmers, badgers are seen as pests in a similar way to foxes. In addition to carrying TB, they destroy land and have been known to steal stock, such as chickens. I doubt there are many farmers that are opposed to the cull.

One of the most significant arguments against the cull is that vaccination could be used as an alternative. However, vaccination would be considerably more expensive and time consuming, not mention less effective than the cull. While possible, this alternative is simply not plausible.

There is a proposed public march in London on June 1 to protest the badger cull. It would be interesting to see what proportion of people turn out to wave their banners. Will there be many people that see the TB problem on a day-to-day basis, such as vets and farmers, or will the protesters predominantly comprise those who like to think of badgers as cute and cuddly, but have an involvement in the dairy industry that extends only as far as buying milk from the local supermarket?

As a vet student, I believe it is important to have an opinion and take a moral standing on issues such as this. On more than one occasion, I have found myself quizzed about my view on the cull, based on my course of study. We need to be prepared and be able to respond to public interrogation with calmly reasoned arguments. After all, we will be the face of the veterinary profession before we know it.

May 7, 2013
Luck of the draw

During the Easter holidays, I had my first EMS placement. Although I’d hand-reared cade lambs before, I’d never actually been lambing. Someone in the year above at Glasgow had been to the farm that I and some of my friends had arranged to go to. While they said it would be a good placement, we still didn’t really know what to expect.

Luckily, the farmer didn’t just set us doing menial tasks such as feeding and watering.

It turned out that it probably couldn’t have been better. We got a really friendly farmer who explained everything to us and seemed to strike the balance perfectly between teaching, supervision and leaving us to it when confident enough.

He also didn’t just set us doing menial tasks such as feeding and watering. Of course, we did do some, but he was eager to get us involved in as much lambing as possible and more “vetty” tasks such as injecting sheep or lambs, tube-feeding colostrum and worming. It definitely seemed like he went out of his way to make sure we experienced all aspects of ewe and lamb care during lambing time.

While talking to both the farmer and the other students that were there, we discussed horror stories of placements other people had been on. We’d heard of people sleeping in caravans, cooking for themselves (in said caravan) and being abandoned with very little instruction with a field of lambing sheep. Having warm beds to sleep in the farmhouse, home cooking and as much food as possible thrown at us, we felt very lucky, considering what we could have ended up with.

Unless a placement has been recommended, it is very much luck that determines what sort of accommodation or people you’ll end up working with. We were so grateful to draw the long straw with lambing. It would have been very easy to end up with a placement on which we wouldn’t learn or do nearly as much.

March 23, 2013
‘Real’ doctors

Image ©iStockphoto.com/Alfsky

Everyone knows that there’s an ancient feud between vet and medical students. Glasgow is no exception – only the other day, I had a heated debate on the topic with another student (who, annoyingly, wasn’t even a medic).

While, for the most part, it’s just friendly banter, there is some truth in both arguments.

A doctor will usually have one area of focus and will spend his whole career becoming more and more specialised in that particular field, whereas a vet will be the GP, surgeon, physio, neurologist and much more for several different species, not just one. As a first year student, it’s sometimes a little scary and overwhelming to think about the broad spectrum of knowledge we need to gain in just five years.

When the medics graduate, they’ll become junior doctors and from then on will begin narrowing down their fields of interest until eventually finding themselves as “left toe specialists”, or something. In 4.5 years, we’ll be let loose into the world of veterinary and, at the end of day one, will have probably already spayed a cat, pregnancy tested a few cows and euthanised a dog, with a rabbit or bird thrown in somewhere too.

Not only are the medics likely to be more specialised than us, they also “go further” than we do in terms of treatment. In my interview for Glasgow vet school two years ago, after expressing an interest in orthopaedics, I was asked the ethical question: “How far is too far?”

The Bionic Vet

I didn’t really have an answer but tried to reason my way through it, discussing things like kidney transplants in cats in America and The Bionic Vet, and came to the conclusion that every case must be treated individually, having weighed up the pros and cons of “heroic treatments” in each situation.

Now I realise that these heroic treatments are fairly uncommon in the veterinary world. Kidney transplants, for example, which are routine in medicine, are non-existent in veterinary in the UK. Is this a consequence of lack of funding and resources or lack of experience and knowledge in the field? Probably a little of both.

The GP vet will play the role of all these specialised fields to some extent (some being more qualified to do so than others). While we can specialise and work in referral practices, the average mixed or small animal vet will find themselves becoming a “Jack of all trades and master of none”.

Does that make us more intelligent than the medics, or just more well-rounded? Is it better to have a broad spectrum of knowledge and practical skills or to be very skilled at a few specific procedures?

February 25, 2013
Three little pigs

One little piggy’s in a farrowing crate, one little piggy gets his tail docked and one little piggy is left alone.

Illustration by L. Leslie Brooke, from The Golden Goose Book, Frederick Warne & Co, Ltd (1905). Image taken from Project Gutenberg eText

I know I’ve already mentioned pigs, but something came up again this week that seriously rattled me. Using an online programme, an example came up in which a sow had given birth to her litter in a pen, not a farrowing crate. One of the piglets was injured and later died because she’d laid on it. The conditions were described as “cramped” and it was insinuated that the death had occurred due to the lack of space.

While the conditions were not the point of the example (it focused more on the attitude of the stockman), I couldn’t help but feel displeased at the way in which the information was portrayed.

Coming from a pig farming background, I know from experience that it is better to put sows in farrowing crates for the sake of the piglets, saving them from being squashed. The farrowing crate would, in fact, give the sow less room than the pen used in the example.

The principle facts in the programme were wrong, regardless of whether it would be considered “cruel” by some to confine sows in this way – the reason for the piglet’s injury was too much space, not too little.

In another example used in the same programme, it was, again, insinuated that tail docking piglets is cruel.

What I would consider cruel would be to let pigs die of spinal abscesses arising from excessive tail biting, which would be the result of not tail docking them. Would you argue that vaccination is cruel? No, because a small, short term burst of pain is better than contracting a disease that would later prove fatal. Same principle.

Practices such as tail docking or the use of farrowing crates do not come about without reason. Farmers do not inflict mindless cruelty on their animals – it’s not in their interest to do so. These methods are used because they are the most efficient way of managing worse problems. This should be made more evident to vet students who have little experience of farming.

So which little pig is the odd one out?

February 11, 2013
Common vs anatomical

In anatomy, we have the ongoing debate about whether we need to use the anatomical names for bones or the “common” equivalent. Though we are examined only on the anatomical terms, how important is it to be aware of the others?

Credit: Owain Davies

“In the distal limb, we have the third metacarpal bone, proximal, middle and distal phalanges and the proximal and distal sesamoids.”

Imagine saying that to a horsey client. You’d probably receive a blank look.

Horsey translation: “Cannon bone, long pastern bone, short pastern bone, pedal bone, navicular bone and sesamoids.”

Now the client more than likely has a rough idea of what you’re going on about.

The importance of being able to relate the different terms is not only essential to the client-vet relationship, but also to your credibility. If someone were to ask about swelling around the cannon bone, and you only know it as the third metacarpal, things become somewhat awkward.

Perhaps it comes down to experience. Those of us from horsey backgrounds take things like that for granted. But it’s not just names of bones. I’m sure during our clinical years, we will learn about equine exertional rhabdomyolysis. Again, a horse owner probably won’t have a clue what that is. Mention azoturia, tying up or Monday morning disease, and you’re now on the same page.

Although anatomical names are “correct”, I feel that the importance of common names is paramount, and this should be emphasised more to us as students.

November 11, 2012
Welfare inside out

A sow nursing her piglets in a farrowing crate.

As vet students, welfare is always being rammed down our throats – and rightly so (even after only two weeks of first year). As future veterinary professionals it will be part of our job to ensure the welfare of the animals entrusted to our care.

Deciding what is “the right thing” to do can often be tricky, as there is never a straight black and white answer. Knowing whether an animal’s welfare is at risk is often down to individual opinion and, therefore, relies on experience.

There is a famous quotation: “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

I believe this applies to evaluating welfare. Often, from the outside, without understanding the reasons behind particular procedures or practices, it’s easy to think from a first impression that something is cruel or unnecessary. But, in reality, there is usually a good reason for these practices, particularly in the production industry.

In one welfare lecture, we were made to believe that keeping sows in farrowing crates was cruel. The sow has little room to lie down, she can’t turn round and may bite the bars of the crate in frustration, resulting in mouth sores. But what about the piglets she is about to farrow? It is their welfare that is protected by keeping her in the crate. The crate prevents her rolling on them, allowing them to suckle without the danger of getting squashed. What good is giving a sow more room if it results in half a litter of dead piglets?

A humane twitch: a useful aid for difficult horses, especially when clipping around horse’s head and performing other ‘frightening’ tasks.

On the same note, coming from a pig farming background, I have seen pigs kept in pens of about five, instead of staying in the open pen, opting themselves to lie in the feeding crates if they’ve been left open (not at feeding time). Confining a pig to a small space may seem cruel from the outside, but is it really, when the pigs will lie in feeding crates out of choice, probably to keep cool and avoid fighting with the others in the pen?

Another example of a misunderstood practice is twitching a horse. Twitches may be made of rope or metal, and can look horrific when being used, since they are twisted tightly around the horse’s muzzle.

An outsider would not understand that the twitch is designed to pinpoint a pressure point that induces release of endorphins. Consequently, this calms the horse and is a very useful technique when the horse is being difficult to handle during clipping or other veterinary procedures, and avoids the use of sedatives.

Assessment of welfare is very much based on individual opinion. Personally, I have had little experience with dairy farming so might at first think that some procedures are cruel when I set out on EMS in the summer. But it’s important to remember to stand back and understand the reasoning behind the actions of those who handle the animals every day before prejudging an establishment based on what you see or think you are seeing to begin with.

November 4, 2012
Tracking degrees?

Is choosing a fully tracked degree like putting all your eggs in one basket?

Earlier this week, I was asked my opinion on the proposal of “tracked” veterinary degrees.

All the time, the bigwigs are trying to think of innovative ways to change veterinary education to produce the best prepared graduates they can for the big wide world. The new idea compromises the suggestion of either “partially tracked” or “fully tracked” degrees.

Partial tracking would involve allowing students to take an elective to allow them to focus on a particular species or discipline. A multi-species exam would be taken and graduates would still qualify to practise in all species.

Fully tracked degrees would mean not all areas of veterinary medicine were covered during the course; the students would choose to study a limited number of species and would take an exam specific to their choice. Therefore, graduates would only be able to practise in the area or species they qualified for.

There are obviously advantages and disadvantages for both ideas. Partial tracking would allow students to take an interest in one area more than others, but still keep their options open on graduation. A possible downside would depend on the proportion of the course that is elective. If choosing to study to a greater depth in one species or discipline would become detrimental to the rest of their studies, then would it just result in the production of students who are slightly stronger in one area but considerably weaker in the other aspects of the profession?

At first, fully tracking seems like a fantastic idea – graduates would be very knowledgeable in their field of qualification. They would be highly specialised and so extremely valuable to the field into which they wish to proceed.

But what if they changed their minds? Currently, it doesn’t matter if you start your veterinary degree thinking you’d like to be a farm vet but finish it thinking you never want to see a cow again. Taking a fully tracked degree would mean you’d be stuck with the path you chose – and how would a vet ever go into mixed practice if this were the case?

I think there is a lot of debate yet to be had on this subject. Personally, as a student, I wouldn’t choose to fully track because I wouldn’t want to have to put all my eggs in one basket just yet. Partially tracking at the later stages of the course could be beneficial though, when we all have a better idea of where we’d like to end up.

October 28, 2012
In the beginning…

I think it’s fair to say I have a less than conventional pre-veterinary school story. In early 2011, after years of working hard at school, gathering experience at different animal establishments and doing regular work experience at a nearby practice, I finally received an offer for veterinary school.

Student blogger Jordan Sinclair.

All I had to do was get the right grades in my final A-Level exams that summer. Or so I thought. In March, a horse I’d been exercising had other ideas.

One moment I was mounting in a car park at a showjumping competition; the next thing I knew, I was waking up in hospital 10 days later.

Involuntary gap year

Despite 12 broken ribs, a punctured lung, a collapsed lung, a broken clavicle and nerve damage, I was still determined to go to the University of Glasgow that year. After a month, I came out of hospital and soon realised I couldn’t fight the sleepy side effects of the morphine long enough to pick up a book, let alone try to catch up with the schoolwork I’d missed.

Glasgow were fantastic – I remember mum being on the phone trying to explain the situation, while I tried to gauge the response from half the conversation. They would not only allow me to defer, but told her I needed to, in order to guarantee full physical fitness for the start of the course.

So what did I do with my involuntary gap year? I spent quite a lot of it recovering. The Air Ambulance Service saved my life by operating at the scene of the accident, and since it is a charity, I started volunteering and fund-raising for it.

When I was well enough, I rode again. Over Christmas, I visited family in Australia and, while I wasn’t allowed to scuba dive due to the previously collapsed lung, nothing was stopping me snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef. I then returned to school to finish my A-Levels.

The long journey begins

Finally, after seeing my friends go through it the previous year, results day came. And so began the mad rush to kit up for veterinary school; books, wellies, overalls and goodness knows what else were gathered up and rammed into the car. Unfortunately, my horse wouldn’t fit in the boot, and I heard cats weren’t permitted in halls. So, petless and not knowing what to expect, I started the long journey north.

I thought A-levels were hard; veterinary school is a whole new ball game. You know it’s not going to be easy when even working out your timetable is almost impossible. It was equally daunting to see the proportions of internationals and postgraduates who all seemed to know everything compared to us Brits, who were fresh(ish) out of school.

One moment I was at a showjumping competition, the next I was waking up in hospital.

Anatomy was like learning a new language, with hundreds of obscure words being thrown at you in one lecture; in a whole sentence, the only recognisable words could be “the” or “and”.

Dissections took some getting used to, when you’ve only ever observed surgery and never actually made contact with a cadaver before. However, after a couple of weeks you can actually visualise where everything is and things start to slot into place.

A whole new world

For those not from farming backgrounds (I’m not sure what I consider myself – my horses were kept on a pig farm), husbandry was a whole new world. We all have varying degrees of experience in some area of farming or animal care, otherwise we wouldn’t be here, but trying to learn a lifetimes worth of experience in keeping sheep from someone in six hours seemed crazy. Now, it’s easy to see the importance of preclinical EMS – you can’t learn everything from a book. Though it is good to take a break from bookwork and head out to the uni farm for handling sessions every so often.

After my riding accident, I was given a CD with all of my radiographs and CT scan pictures on. Although the idea of having my own x-rays was novel, aside from seeing the obvious snap in the collar bone, they meant very little. After being shown an example of a radiograph showing the collapsed lung in a dog in the first couple of weeks at Glasgow, I went back to my stashed away x-rays. To my delight, I could see things more clearly, although did find it odd being able to understand how smashed up my insides had been. So far, the CT pictures still remain a mystery though.

I’m not sure if the beginning of vet school is what I expected or not. In some respects, it seems very real now, with professionalism being drummed into us from the outset. And in others, it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel from here.

October 21, 2012