Cutting Corners: a message to the next Vice Chancellor at Goldsmiths

By Dr. Jo Edge

On 1 October 2025, a short announcement was put on Goldsmiths’ website to say that Vice Chancellor Frances Corner was stepping down with immediate effect. This came off the back of an announcement a fortnight earlier, which stated that Corner’s tenure as VC would not be renewed after the end of the 2025–26 academic year.

Corner’s six years as VC were marked by vicious cuts and at least two rounds of brutal redundancies and strikes. While we don’t know the precise details of her immediate departure, it is clear that her vision for getting the university back on a stable financial footing has not worked.

Here is what I want to say to her successor.

You won’t know this, but in 2006 I came to study History at Goldsmiths. I came straight into the second year of the BA, because I’d done my first year part-time at Oxford’s Department for Continuing Education as a mature student, back when you could afford to do part-time studying in the evenings around full-time work. I could have gone to King’s, but they insisted I go into the first year, and I had no time to waste as a 25-year-old with higher tuition fees about to come in. Once I’d got the requisite 2:1 in my foundation certificate, I was welcomed with open arms into the department.

What I didn’t know then, but what I know now, was that I’m autistic and have ADHD. I knew I didn’t really fit in in most places, and I found what I now know to be masking exhausting, but it was just easier somehow to be me at Goldsmiths. Not only were there about 80–100 students in my year doing History, History of Ideas, or some sort of joint honours course, but many of us were mature students like me, locals who lived at home, people who had come up through the amazing Open Book initiative, or regular freshers straight out of A levels. What we had in History, as well as a sizeable academic and student cohort, were two excellent departmental administrators: Carol and Nevenka. They knew everything, were unfailingly kind, and would drop whatever they were doing to help us with various queries and issues.

I really thrived at Goldsmiths, and, as someone interested in medieval history above anything else, was able to take courses that appealed to me. I now realise that I arrived at a time when medievalists were leaving or being made redundant; but courses were covered by hourly-paid lecturers who’d been brought in. And, in my third year, I was able to study my special subject (The Norman Conquest) at King’s, because at that point we were able to go to all colleges within the University of London if there was space. I graduated in 2008 with a first class honours degree.

So, things weren’t great at Goldsmiths in terms of medieval history at this time, but nor was it yet non-existent as a topic of study. The Middle Ages is 1,100 years of history. Even from a narrow ‘relevance’ approach (which I hate), you cannot understand the formation of the nation-state, the rise of the university, the roots of antisemitism and Islamophobia, and many other pressingly important current topics without it, and it is anything other than some niche antediluvian pastime. Students at Goldsmiths deserve to study medieval history as much as students at Oxbridge, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy if you don’t offer courses in something because of perceived lack of popularity. Medieval courses were immensely popular in my time; and remain so today. Why there is no real medieval provision is beyond me; and even the early modern offering is vastly reduced (the Tudors, for example, is also a surefire hit with students).

I went on to do an MA in Medieval Studies at UCL, where I got a High Distinction, and then a fully-funded PhD at Royal Holloway. I graduated in 2015 and have been in fixed-term academic roles ever since, at Cambridge, Manchester and Edinburgh. I’ve never had a permanent lectureship, but given the state of the sector, I think we can agree I’ve been a success. That success began at Goldsmiths, which helped me so much with confidence, encouragement and nurtured my interests. I would not be here without those two years which remain a highlight of my time as a student.

I mentioned the rotten state of the sector; and it’s more rotten than ever right now. So, when my last contract at Edinburgh ended in December 2024, and having had four interviews that year with no success, I found myself needing work. Via a friend, an opportunity had come up at Goldsmiths, to cover the second half of a first-year survey module on late medieval and early modern cultural history, which is perfect for my interests.

I honestly couldn’t believe what I had walked back into, 17 years after graduating in 2008. The problems I list here are not aimed at any one individual: everyone in that department is trying their best. These are systemic issues, largely caused by the devastating rounds of redundancies initiated by Goldsmiths SMT in 2022 and again in 2024. I am also aware that HE policy since 2015 especially has really had an effect on places like Goldsmiths, especially the lifting of the recruitment cap for individual institutions. However, many of the problems outlined below are due to the loss of an extremely skilled and knowledgeable departmental administrator. It is not clear to me why this was done. It was an act of self-defeating vandalism and I cannot fathom the logic behind it. 

The department is now reduced to a handful of staff on open-ended contracts, as opposed to the 20 or so in my time. There is no onboarding for new employees: everything I know is thanks to the exceptionally generous help of colleagues who were happy to talk me through processes and procedures. On my first day, I hadn’t been told that the time and place of my class had been moved from 11am to 1pm; and so went to the wrong room to teach the wrong students. This sort of thing is *especially difficult* for neurodivergent people, as we find unexpected problems very hard to cope with, especially on the first day on the job. Luckily my friend was working that day and he was able to tell me where to go and when. If he hadn’t been, I’d have had no idea who to ask. Again, this is very difficult for people like me.

It took me about five weeks to get a contract. To get this contract I had to threaten not to show up for work. This is not the fault of the (excellent) administrator who is now responsible for an entire school; or the one person who seems to work in HR; they are as overworked as the rest of us. This contract was for six months, and was 0.0435 FTE. That’s right. Less than a quarter of a day a week for teaching on a course new to me, with adequate materials only provided for the second half of the semester. It is fatuous to expect anyone can do a good job with those hours, so of course, I’ve worked a lot more than that. I do not know why this is considered acceptable, let alone at a university that markets itself on being radical, tight-knit and concerned with social justice.

I was offered bits and pieces of extra work as they came up – marking and moderating, mostly: and, of course, being fractionally employed, I needed the money. The problem was each little request for extra money (the odd £80 or so here and there) needed to go through my line manager, and be actioned by the one administrator I mentioned earlier. This administrator then had to liaise with HR about it. If I’d just been given a fair salary, I could have simply taken on this work as necessary. Obviously, I was on at least one occasion not paid until a month late, because people went off sick, balls were dropped etc. And it was me who had to chase this. £80 is nothing to you. It is my month’s water bill to me.

There were 17 students in the first year, perhaps 12 of which came to class regularly. SEVENTEEN. Some of these students had come to Goldsmiths for its expertise in Queer history, but of course, after introducing a unique MA in this, hiring staff, trumpeting their arrival, and then briskly abandoning both the course and the staff that teach on it last year, these students have been sorely short-changed. Students are either customers who pay a lot of money or they aren’t, but they cannot be both. And they have been excellent in class, despite everything that was done to the department. They are generous, funny and kind, even though the world is falling down around them and their university experience is mostly studying, living at home and working part-time to make ends meet.

I am not expecting you to work miracles: a lot of the problems I mention are down to the wider situation in HE. But you can’t expect to recruit students if you don’t put the effort in to attracting them. And you do that with your unique selling points. For Goldsmiths, for example, one thing you could do is tap into the neurodivergent market. My story should make you happy and proud of Goldsmiths, and it should serve as inspiration.

Since my contract ended at the end of June, Goldsmiths have declined to make me an honorary research fellow, which would at least give me a desk and colleagues, even after I put a massive shift in and worked way over my hours last year, and I’m not in the habit of begging, so I won’t be coming back.

But whatever happens, you owe the amazing staff in this department (and others) so much. They’ve kept the show running despite everything they have experienced during these redundancies, or are casualised and employed on substandard contracts like I was. What gives me hope is the radical kindness and generosity of staff and students alike which should be a source of immense pride to this institution, which I still believe can thrive, but this will need honest conversations and courageous actions.