I remember vividly the day I received my offer to study at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music.

It was 2006. I thought I wanted to study media and communications to become a journalist (spoiler alert: I did neither).

I had applied to ‘The Con’ thinking it was just a whim, but there was absolutely no way I’d make the cut. I definitely wasn’t good enough.

Most of the teachers at my school thought the same thing.

My accompanist – a lovely older gentleman with the patience of a saint – seemed to have faith in me, though and encouraged me to apply.

Offer day came at the beginning of summer. I was at the beach with my girlfriends and went home to log on to the family computer. Still dial-up internet, so it took a while (thanks, dad).

There it was: acceptance to The University of Sydney, Sydney Conservatorium of Music. Bachelor of Music (Composition).

I was gobsmacked and anxious.

But so incredibly excited.

Fast forward a year or two, and my cousin introduced me to his girlfriend at some family thing. She asked me what I was studying, and when I answered, she responded, ‘So what will you do for your real degree?’

Ouch.

It seems that almost 20 years on, people still have the same response to music students.

The Australian National University appears to be taking that view for the sake of budget cuts.

It’s disappointing.

I went on to do two more degrees in intellectual property law, plus too many short courses to count.

I’ve worked in the music industry, education, the public service, the private sector, and for a number of associations. In policy, advocacy, sales, marketing and now as an Executive Director for a small membership organisation.

My ‘fake degree’ set me up for all of that.

Studying music taught me more than I could have anticipated, and more than people who have never done it could know.

I was put in situations that terrified me (performance anxiety is real for musicians, too!). I had to overcome fears and learn that the show does indeed have to go on.

I worked hard. Harder than I’d ever worked before, and I’ve ever worked since. I practised. And practised. And practised.

I learned to write. Writing about music can be subjective, and turning that subjectivism into academia is an art-form.

I made friends. They were just like me – driven, busy, and hard working. No one was accepted simply because they were ‘legacy’ or fudged their entrance exam. Everyone worked hard to be there.

I learned how to think. How to analyse. How to be different and creative. Not simply to follow the herd.

I learned never to miss a deadline. Because practise or no practise, you were on that stage at the designated time. Good luck to you if you weren’t prepared.

These days, there’s not much you can throw at me that I won’t be ready for. I put a lot of that down to my four incredible years of training at The Con (plus a year of an unfinished Master of Music).

Sure, I’m not working as a musician now, but is that always the outcome of a degree? To set the course of a career?

The Australian Bureau of Statistics estimates about two million Australians are working in jobs unrelated to their highest attained qualification.

That sounds about right.

For many of us, an undergraduate degree is about learning to learn. Learning to think. Learning what our skills are and how we can apply them in future.

To the ANU I say this: the pedagogy may look different from other degree structures, and the outcomes may come in the form of a performance, or a piece of music, rather than an essay or exam.

But in the end, students are learning the fundamentals they come to you to learn.

Just because the process looks different, does not mean the degree is unworthy of support.