So, the Ucas applications should have been submitted by now. Slowly and rather randomly, the offers to our students will begin to trickle through. Some students will have interviews or other selection tasks; offers will be accepted or rejected. Eventually, results day will arrive and, for a few, there will be the flurry of clearing.

University applications is a process largely unchanged since I was a head of sixth form in the early 2000s. Or even since I applied myself in the 1990s.

Last year, however, I also went through it as a parent - and as my daughter’s A-level teacher and headteacher. And I suddenly saw this world from a different perspective and how far, actually, things have shifted for our most disadvantaged students who wish to attend university.

University access problems

One of our students applied for a prestigious course at a Russell Group university. We prepared him for the interview to come, the sorts of questions likely to be asked, well-considered responses, how to come across as keen and committed. He never made it into the interview room.

When he was waiting with other prospective undergraduates, they shared where they were from and which school they attended. He was one of two state school students and the only one from our town. The others laughed, ridiculed his accent and his background, and he left.

We can prepare our students for interviews, but now it seems we also need to prepare them for the other interviewees.

Bullying by peers

As soon as my daughter started receiving offers from universities, she also started receiving invitations to “offer holders” WhatsApp groups.

As far as I can tell, these are not set up by the universities themselves. My daughter and her peers saw posts on social media and got involved.

Sounds like a great idea in theory; like-minded students exploring options and making friends. But membership of these groups is huge, with no apparent checking of who actually holds offers.

Quickly, the sad descent into sexism, racism and classism started. Bragging about private schools, skiing holidays, luxurious proms and ponies seemed the norm; apparently, some unsolicited photos were shared. Although the admins threw the perpetrators of intimidation, bullying and sexual harassment out, it had still happened.

And the result for many in these groups was the feeling that they simply didn’t belong. As a parent, I didn’t know my daughter was in a group until this exploded.

Financial troubles at university

Then came more problems. Despite a promise from my daughter’s first-choice university that there was guaranteed university accommodation for those making it their firm choice, this did not happen. Instead, an apology and an offer of something further away and more expensive.

For her friend facing the same issue, £1,000 per month was not realistic with no financially comfortable parents to help. She has ended up in a shared flat some three miles from the university, not on bus routes and with no access to local shops. Her brother dropped her off, needed to get back, and left her with no food in a strange place.

We have to better prepare our students, especially first-generation attenders or those from under-resourced backgrounds, in terms of what they can do if things go wrong. If they need to eat and the maintenance money has not yet arrived. Who can they speak to in such circumstances without fear of judgement?

It seems that once schools have managed to encourage young people to apply to university, even sometimes against their parents’ wishes, we need to do much more to make the experience truly accessible to all.

Keziah Featherstone is currently an executive leader in The Mercian Trust and former executive headteacher. She is co-founder and vice-chair of WomenEd, as well as being co-chair of the Headteachers’ Roundtable. Her first solo book, Punk Leadership, has recently been published by Corwin

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