#66 My Oxford University interview. (Part 2)
21 July 2026
PART 1:
PART 2:
So there I stood.
18-year old me. At the reception of this campus building, with nothing but a tiny suitcase.
The interview for Oxford University wasn’t like the normal interview. The interview to get into their law school (during my time) was a two-day ordeal. You come and check in the day before, mingle with the other applicants (i.e. your competition) and stay overnight in their campus. Which I guess is pretty cool to get a preview of studying there. You get to walk around the campus, you get catered meals in their cafeteria and you get to speak to the professors you admire (if you’re that nerdy or suck-up-py).
“Yusof… Yusof…” the lady looked for my name on her sheet.
“Down at the bottom,” I suggested. It’s either V or Y, I’m always at the bottom of every sheet.
“Ah, yes, Vivy Yusof, there you are, love,” she said, as British as can be.
She gave the key to my room and gave me directions. I looked around, everyone had keys in their hands, trying to find their own rooms. When I got to my room, I was impressed. The room was so nice - spacious, wooden furniture, a single bed, a desk, with a view of greenery. Closet... was small. But everyone lives in sweaters and jeans here. My heels felt out of place. #shortpeopleproblems
I unpacked and sat on the bed. Ok now what? I had no friends there and nothing to do.
Go to the common room and mingle, Vivy, I told myself.
Ok time to put my friendly face on. Friendly, but not too friendly they think you’re not smart. I practiced my “I’m friendly but I’m also really smart, ask me questions about philosophy but actually please don’t” face.
In the common room, a few candidates were already there. One was reading a dictionary like what on earth... there was a group of tall matsallehs in one corner talking. I went to get a (halal) drink at the pantry and sat down with them, thick-faced. Can’t remember the conversation, but they all seemed relaxed and confident. The alcohol probably had a thing or two to do with that. I don’t drink, so immediately, I felt out of place.
After a while, I went back to my room and waited for dinner time. I wasn’t sure about the halal-ness so I think I ended up eating bread. Sat with some people but didn’t feel any chemistry whatsoever. I usually can make friends easily so this was weird for me. Sigh, this place really wasn’t for me.
I spotted a few elder people around just watching us - oh my god, were they part of the interview team? Maybe the interview began the moment you checked in at the reception. Bet there were some in the common room earlier, just watching how confident these applicants were – and then there was me clutching my soda nervously nodding along. Maybe they were observing how we immersed ourselves in conversations, how smart we sounded – how Oxford-y we were? I think 38-year old Vivy could probably do just fine now in those situations. But 18-year old Vivy just wanted to curl herself and roll back to the train station.
The next day was the formal interview sessions.
There were two - one was a personality one, and another was the legal one.
Believe it or not, I found the latter easier than the former. The personality interview haunts me till today.
Read on.
The legal interview was simple – they give you a few paragraphs to read, and then ask you questions about it. It was twenty years ago so forgive my memory, but what I remember was it was a case about peaceful vs non-peaceful demonstrations (riots). What constitutes a peaceful demonstration and what are the limits that then makes it not peaceful. One discussion I had with the interviewer was whether I agreed with the judge’s statement, and why. And then I remember her asking me if I were the judge, how would I determine how many metres away from the road/highway/building is a peaceful demonstration – i.e. how do I know if it’s 10 metres, or 100 metres or 40 metres etc. And what is defined by “causing harm” – if the protestor brings a gun, it’s clear, but what if he brings a sharp pencil – would that fall under potential of “causing harm”?
My heart: WHAT THE, HOW ON EARTH WOULD I KNOW THAT.
My mouth apparently said something smart because I passed to get to the next stage - the personality interview.
“Is there anything I should prepare for the personality interview?” I asked the Oxford University staff.
“No. Just be yourself, love.”
Gulp.
You see, you hear some scary stories about Oxbridge interviews, unsure if they’re myths or not. There’s a myth that they put you on the other end of the room and ask you to shout the answer. There’s a myth they pretend to give confused expressions so you will get more nervous and doubt yourself. There’s a myth that they ask the randomest questions like “Why is the manhole round?” and “Why do we have eyebrows?”. The seniors will scare you like this so it makes the interview prep even more daunting. Because you literally can’t prepare for what you can’t anticipate.
2pm, Room XXX – my sheet wrote.
I don’t even remember if I even had lunch that day because I was just too nervous. 1.30pm, I think I was already at the waiting area. One of those rare occasions in life that I was actually early.
A candidate walked out and looked traumatized. I felt 100 times worse.
SOMEONE PASS ME A BREATHING BAG PLEASE.
“Yuuuussss….of?” the staff called out to the waiting room.
“Me,” I croaked, as I stood up and walked to the room. My limbs felt extra heavy that moment, resisting the interview room.
When I stepped in, my jaw almost dropped at what I saw before me.
There was a…