Predictions for 2026: the counselling version

At this time of the year it is customary for newspapers and magazines to publish their predictions for the coming year. So why shouldn’t THE Counsellor jump on the bandwagon? 

Luckily, most of those annual predictions prove wildly inaccurate, so there is no pressure on me when mine prove to be equally unreliable.

A prediction about predictions

Those of us who work with A-level or IB students, and therefore inhabit the world of predicted grades, live in eternal hope that our students will achieve those predictions. We live in the future rather than the past. 

One of the issues with basing applications on predictions is that different countries use them in different ways. UK universities often make offers to international students despite their predicted grades being lower than the standard offers (I might be a bit cynical – not in keeping with this season of goodwill to all – in thinking that money might play a part here).

Meanwhile, in some other systems, a minimum-entry requirement is just what it says it is. 

And so my first prediction is that we will continue to have to explain to confused students that what is flexible in some contexts is inflexible in others.

Not-so-intelligent use of artificial intelligence

AI is creeping into our work, in some instances usefully and in others less so. I’m not going to make predictions along the lines of “AI is going to take your job” but I do foresee ever-growing use of AI by students to undermine the work they do in writing personal statements and application essays. 

The scenario I am addressing is this: 

• Student writes a first draft of their piece, in his/her own voice and full of personal details, albeit in need of a little bit of polishing.
• Student then decides that the piece doesn’t sound impressive enough so asks his/her favourite large language model to “improve” it.
• The LLM then turns the piece into something generic, bland and boring, usually adding a quotation that at best is tangentially related to the topic.

As an illustration, my original paragraph about AI was full of jokes, clever puns and witticisms that you would probably want to use yourself. And then I asked ChatGPT to improve it...

When is a deadline not a deadline?

Some words have multiple meanings, or nuances that are not obvious to everyone. As Humpty Dumpty says in Alice Through the Looking Glass, “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.”

A word that means one thing to university counsellors and something completely different to students is “deadline”.

My prediction for 2026 is that there will be more exchanges along the lines of:

Me: “The Ucas deadline is tomorrow, and I still haven’t seen your draft personal statement.”

Student: “I’ve been very busy with my extended essay, the school band and a basketball tournament. And it was my birthday last week – I’ll have a go at the PS tonight and let you see it next weekend.”

Uninvited guests

As counsellors at international schools, we are familiar with conversations with university reps who are keen to visit us to talk to our students. 

These visits can be very useful and, managed properly, can help develop fruitful relationships between the university, the school and the students. We have had some excellent presentations from universities this year, delivered by reps who understand what we want from these visits: not a hard sell of their institution but something informative and entertaining. 

These relationships have often resulted from a meeting with a rep at a fair, opening up a dialogue that leads to a successful visit. Increasingly though, I get cold calls and emails from universities that have never made contact before, and which are very prescriptive about the date and time that they plan to visit. 

My prediction is that I will get even more emails that begin: “Dear school counsellor, I am going to be in Thailand for three days during my tour of South-east Asia and I would like to talk to your students about my university tomorrow at 2.45pm. Please confirm that this is fine, and send me directions.” 

Back to the future

Technology is supposed to make our lives easier by eliminating repetitive tasks and allowing us to make more efficient use of our time. The fax machine replaced the need to post letters; email supplanted the fax as a means of communication; message apps allowed people to do their work on the move, in the bath or while eating. 

But the world of university applications exists in parallel dimensions: the need to fax or post documents exists (younger counsellors will never even have seen a fax machine) in the same time frame as asynchronous, AI-assessed video interviews and chatbots. 

A trend that continues to grow – and that I predict will become even more prevalent this coming year – is for university websites to remove (or make virtually impossible to find) contact information. Instead, there are only enquiry forms with dropdown menus. And these are invariably aimed at students, so counsellors have to fill in requests for information as if we are interested in applying and then receive an automated response that contains links to parts of the website that we already knew about. Definitely not time-saving.

Groundhog Day

On a personal note, two predictions that I’m certain will come true…

The first is that I will continue to miss out on the best university marketing initiatives (aka freebies) because I invariably spend time at the wrong university stands at education fairs. 

I have an extensive collection of tote bags, mostly in black, but then see my colleagues carrying state-of-the-art branded power adapters, insulated bottles that will keep coffee hot for a week, iPads, business-card holders and other desirable items. (Note to universities: if you are reading this, my contact details are at the end of this piece.)

This also extends to fact-finding trips: “Are you going to Tokyo/Rio/Geneva for the study tour next month?” To which my answer is almost always, “No, I wasn’t invited.”

The second prediction is that my colleagues will continue to look at my mostly blank school timetable and think that a) I don’t do much work, and b) that I am therefore always available for lesson cover or exam invigilation.

And on that happy note, I wish you all the very best for 2026 and beyond.