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As a first-year mental health nursing student I started my course inSeptember 2011, along with around 20 other enthusiastic would-be nurses, of allages and backgrounds. With the pride and excitement of achieving a place on anursing degree course still freshly buzzing around my head, I believe I madethe mistake of focusing on how many sharpened pencils were in my brand-spankingnew pencil case instead of getting stuck straight in, despite severalpre-warnings from newly-qualified friends. Perhaps three or four weeks prior toassignments being due for submission, I found myself desperately trying tosearch for books in the university library that were already on loan and tryingto avoid having to learn to search for journals.

With regards to my first clinical placement, I may as well have skipped ontothe ward with a sign stating the words ‘Florence Nightingale II’ stuck to myforehead with a drawing pin. Needless to say, I left the dementia assessmentunit after my first shift with tears being determinedly held back, and tailfirmly tucked between ones legs. My first experience of dementia certainlyopened my eyes.

I have never been frightened of working. Although unfamiliar, the shiftpattern was something I grew accustomed to rather quickly. However, it was mysheer ignorance of how many learning opportunities that would suddenly beplaced in front of me that really took me aback – first-year ignorance at itsexemplory best. I also found that almost every single nursing student has an “Iwill never cut it as a nurse” moment; in my case, there were more than one.Being a nursing student genuinely is a case of learning something new everysingle day; luckily, I was blessed with the opportunity to work with afantastic, supportive group of staff on my first placement.

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