As the academic calendar nears its end, chatter in my classes often turns to what people are going on to next.

There are animated discussions - often to the detriment of the actual thing I’m attempting to teach them - on the relative merit and availability of particular jobs and their prospects, continuing courses, institutions and all the other things that for them represent the next step of their journey.

It serves as a reminder to me that although I’m just about ready to press that reset button and start again with the next batch of learners, the ones in front of me are going to try to get to the next level. I don’t envy them one bit - navigating the end-of-stage boss can be hugely frustrating.

Invariably (and perhaps unwisely) they eventually ask me for advice. This request usually takes the form of peppering me with questions as if I’m a hostile witness in a legal TV show.

‘The storm of possibility’

Is this course any good? Do I get travel? Should I do the foundation year? Is it coursework or exams? How much is that per month? How much is that per hour? Would I be able to do that and keep studying? Would I have to study? Is that the same as a C? Do they need a C? How long would that take me? Would I be good for this? Is there an apprenticeship available? Will I have to pay for the uniform?

The questions they batter me with project an uncertainty for the future and a desire not to waste it. It makes me a little bit thankful that my own career pathway is relatively set. I feel for them having to navigate the storm of possibility - I have trouble navigating my lad in his buggy around folk in the park most days.

And a lot of the time these aren’t students who are clueless about what they want to do. In many cases, they’re just unsure about what’s the best way to reach their goal.

Now, I’m all for choice, but I’m not certain that the myriad courses, progression routes, entrance standards and the like are particularly helpful for getting someone to where they want to be. There’s a certain lack of explicitness that many of mine struggle with - as do I, if I’m honest.

‘Our business is vocation’

But then again, I’m not an expert - which becomes patently obvious to them five seconds after they’ve asked me.

Luckily, there are people at my place who work in the careers and courses department who are dedicated professionals that help learners see their paths a little bit clearer and give them solid direction.

In further education, our business is vocation and it’s unfortunate that the path to that fairly straightforward goal is perhaps not as clear as it should be.

Skilled careers guidance departments help immensely, but when I see learners confused as to their next step, I often think of the question that gets thrown at me more than the others: does it really have to be so complicated?

Tom Starkey teaches English at a college in the North of England