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Class has shaped every stage of my experience of academia - often in ways I could never quite put my finger on at the time. 
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If you have no economic cushion, you can& #39;t afford to give yourself time to rest and develop. When ill as a postgraduate, I couldn& #39;t take the leave of absence I needed, because if I didn& #39;t get any doctoral funding that year, I knew my only option was our grim welfare system.
When fixed-term posts were coming to an end, I found myself counting the number of months I could survive on my savings before I& #39;d be evicted. That was not something that could be mentioned in polite conversation with a manager.
My decision to reject a lectureship at a prestigious university in order to teach primarily working-class students is often met by utter incomprehension by academics. I& #39;m never so conscious of academic hierarchies as when someone is trying to conceal derision for my institution.
Success in academia often relies on projecting a delicate mix of authority and conformability. That is particularly difficult when operating in an environment dominated by the upper middle-classes, whose temperaments and formative life experiences are poles apart from your own.
