A real answer to the question every student is asking, for Maths, Physics, and Computer Science

This is the question I am asked more than any other between September and January: what should I put in my personal statement? It is asked by students, by parents, by colleagues teaching tutor groups for the first time, and by the students I taught two years ago who have just realised that their younger siblings are now in the same boat.

It is also the question, I think, on which the most confident-sounding advice is most often wrong. The internet is full of personal statement templates, opening lines you must use, opening lines you must never use, ratios of academic to extra-curricular content, and the firm assertion that admissions tutors want X. Most of this is invention. Some of it is the right answer to last year’s question. A surprising amount of it is what the writer would do if they were applying, dressed up as universal advice. So I did the sensible thing. I wrote to fifty UK university admissions departments — across Maths, Physics, and Computer Science — and asked them what they actually wanted to see. Some replies were generic. Some pointed me back to the UCAS website. A substantial number, however, were genuinely thoughtful, often candid, and occasionally surprising. What follows is a synthesis of those replies, organised around the new three-question UCAS format introduced in 2025. It is written for students. It should be useful for teachers. And it tries to replace confident invention with what actual admissions tutors said.

What has changed since 2018

A note for any teacher or parent reading this who last looked at personal statements seven years ago. In 2018 an aquaintance and I ran a similar exercise with forty universities. Much of the core advice has held up — curiosity, honesty, subject-specific enthusiasm. But the structure of the statement has changed, and the way it is used has changed with it. The single-essay personal statement has been replaced, from the 2025 cycle, by three separate questions. Why do you want to study this subject? How have your studies prepared you? What else have you done outside formal education to prepare? The change is not cosmetic. It forces applicants to address motivation, preparation, and wider engagement in their own right rather than blending them together into a literary-feeling whole. The good news, for anyone who finds the blank page paralysing, is that this makes the statement easier to write well. The bad news, for anyone hoping to drift through it on charm and metaphor, is that it makes it harder to write well badly. Universities are also more aligned than ever in what they discourage. Generic, exaggerated, or impersonal statements are out. So are the famous opening clichés — ever since I was small, the future is computing, the obligatory quotation, the Big Bang. So is the laundry list of activities with no reflection on what any of them taught you. Almost every reply I received used some variant of the same word: reflection. They want to know not what you did, but what you made of it.

How important is the personal statement actually?

Here is the part of the conversation that students find most difficult to hear, and which their teachers should be honest about with them. For most universities, the personal statement is not the main thing. I cannot put this more directly. Several of the most prestigious departments in the country told me, in plain terms, that grades, predicted grades, and admissions test scores (MAT, TMUA, ESAT, Physics Aptitude Test) carry far more weight than the statement does. “For Maths at Warwick, the personal statement is not the main focus… simply because of the number of applications we receive.” — University of Warwick “Grades are in fact the most important factor when we make our decision.” — University of Surrey “We don’t generically assess personal statements as obviously a number of factors have to be taken into consideration – school rating, private or state, personal circumstances etc.” — Durham University “I think the personal statement is stressed over more than it needs to be by applicants. When it comes to deciding on eligibility for an offer, academics are key. For me, there’s no personal statement so mind-blowing that it can make up for not meeting the entry requirements. The main thing I’m looking for… is simply a clear interest in mathematics and a desire to study it at degree level.” — University of Manchester Leeds offered perhaps the most measured framing of all the responses: “We are looking for a plausible picture of an enthusiastic and talented young mathematician. But this could take many forms and we do not have a check-list of specific things we are looking for. Certainly wider reading, enrichment activities, or competitions are the kinds of things which could help paint that picture, but we would not look to penalise people who don’t tick a particular box… For what you might call standard applications, so long as this overall picture is honest, presented well, and broadly convincing, the truth is that personal statements are not likely to be make or break.” — University of Leeds This is liberating, once you accept it. It means that for the vast majority of applicants the statement is not the lever it is sometimes made out to be. A good one will not save bad grades. A merely competent one will not torpedo good ones. The statement does, however, matter in four specific situations, and they are worth knowing about. It matters at the borderline. If you are a marginal case — you missed an offer by a grade, your background is unusual, your route through education has not been the conventional one — a strong statement can tip the balance. “I do [read them], but the main use is as a distinguisher for borderline students.” — University of Birmingham “We consider personal statements when the student has followed an unusual route…” — University of Warwick It matters as a course-fit check. Tutors want to know that you have applied for the right thing. They are looking, in many cases, for a basic sanity check: does this applicant have a coherent reason to study this subject at degree level? It matters at interview. If you are applying somewhere that interviews — Oxbridge, Imperial, some other places for some courses — the statement is the document the interviewer will most likely have in front of them. Things you write will be asked about. Books you mention will be discussed. If you cannot defend a claim in your statement, do not put it there. “Many institutions will use the personal statement as a starting point for discussion at interview.” — Anonymous admissions tutor And it matters as a first impression. Even where it is not decisive, the statement shapes the way an admissions tutor reads the rest of your application. “This is the first encounter that your future lecturers have with you… it’s important to make a good first impression.” — Anonymous admissions tutor There is also a category of universities where the statement matters more than the general picture suggests. Oxbridge, smaller departments at strong research universities, and any course where motivation is part of what is being assessed all read more carefully than the modal case. “Tutors will… seek in successful candidates a capacity to absorb and use new ideas, to think independently, and perseverance and enthusiasm.” — University of Oxford The most heavily subscribed courses — top-tier Computer Science is the obvious example — often go in the other direction, relying heavily on admissions tests and grades because the volume makes anything else impossible. So: not as central as students fear, but not negligible either. Read it for what it actually is.

What every department wants, regardless of subject

Across all fifty replies, four things came up again and again. They are worth treating as the foundation on which the subject-specific advice sits. The first is genuine enthusiasm. Tutors are remarkably good at telling the difference between I love this subject and I have been told to write that I love this subject. The University of Nottingham captured it as well as any: “We’re more interested in what excites you than what you think we want to hear.” — University of Nottingham The statement that opens with a quotation from Einstein and a confident assertion that physics is the most beautiful of the sciences is, almost by definition, telling them what the applicant thinks they want to hear. The statement that begins with a specific question that has stuck in your head — why does ice float?, what does it mean for an algorithm to be efficient?, why are there infinitely many primes? — is telling them something true.

The second is reflection over listing. This came up so often that I will say it as plainly as I can. Naming an activity is not the same as discussing it. “Grades, work experience, additional reading, lectures attended / MOOCs (in person or online), UKMT (and the like), extra-curricular e.g. DoE, sporting commitments (time management) – a common mistake is referencing any of the above and not elaborating what has been learnt as a result.” — Durham University The statement that says “I have read A Brief History of Time and Six Easy Pieces and watched several Brian Cox documentaries” is a list. The statement that says “Feynman’s account of why rubber bands are elastic made me realise for the first time that entropy is not the same thing as disorder, and I have been chewing on it ever since” is a reflection. Activities without reflection are decoration. Activities with reflection are evidence. The third is clear links between super-curricular activity and academic ambition. A super-curricular activity is anything you have done that goes beyond your formal courses but is connected to the subject you want to study. Reading, coding projects, lectures, summer schools, competitions, MOOCs. The point is not that you have done these things; the point is what they led you to think about, what questions they opened up, and how they shaped your sense of what the subject is. “Engagement outside the classroom sets apart exceptional applicants. They can showcase participation in physics-related competitions, summer schools, or research projects. Independent learning — such as reading scientific publications, following developments in physics, or engaging in online courses. Perhaps they have some practical experience, like building electronics, coding simulations, or attending public science lectures.” — University of Oxford “I like to see that a student will have staying power. This relates to the first two bullet points — having experience doing summer schools, attending public lectures, extra-curricular STEM clubs etc are all good signs.” — University of Bristol Both meant the same thing: a coherent picture of someone who has been pursuing the subject under their own steam for long enough to know what they are letting themselves in for. The fourth, particularly for Physics and Computer Science, is communication and collaboration. These are subjects in which working with other people is a fact of life, and tutors do read for signs of it. This does not mean you have to claim leadership of every group project you have ever been on. It means that if you have worked on something with other people, you can probably say something useful about what that taught you. Two practical tips on this front, both from named tutors: “We also like to advise students to read their statement out loud to themselves (perhaps when no one else is around!) so they can ‘hear’ how it would ‘read’ to an admissions team or even a tutor; it also helps with flow and picking out spelling and grammar errors too.” — University of Oxford “Make sure that there aren’t lots of spelling and grammar mistakes as this takes away from the picture the student is trying to build (an obvious one, but you’d be surprised some of the stuff that gets through).” — University of Birmingham A representative summary from one admissions tutor — Andrew Brown at Queen’s University Belfast — was probably the single most useful response I received. It is worth quoting at length: “My main piece of advice, having read many MANY personal statements in the last several years is to be realistic and honest. The number one thing I’m looking for in a personal statement is evidence that the student is curious. That’s the one character trait which you can guarantee will motivate a student through a degree. Reading extra-curricular mathematics books is just one way you can show curiosity. Other effective examples I’ve seen are of students teaching themselves programming, or really engaging with the mathematical side of another school subject (e.g. physics or biology). Even if it’s ‘just’ a subject they really enjoy and want to continue, but their curiosity lies in other areas, fine. Is there a way you can connect the degree with your social advocacy work or your passion for cricket?” — Dr Andrew Brown, Queen’s University Belfast Robert Bowles, Admissions Tutor at University College London, put it as succinctly as anyone: “My advice has always been that the applicants should simply describe the sort of person they are, what they enjoy doing and why. Do not try and put a spin on the facts, or make claims that are even a little bit of a stretch. This honest approach should be enough for the reader to identify whether the writer is a good bet for a demanding degree and writing it should also help the applicant decide, themselves, whether they are applying for the right sort of degree.” — Robert Bowles, UCL

For mathematics applicants

The new three-question format gives Maths applicants something to push against, which is helpful.

Why do you want to study mathematics?

The strongest replies on this point all said the same thing: be specific about what excites you. A favourite problem, a moment when something clicked, an idea that has stayed with you. Pure or applied, abstract or numerical, geometric or algebraic — what is the version of mathematics that you actually love? If you cannot answer this, you are not ready to write the statement; you are ready to do more mathematics until you can. Unique angles matter. Maths is a broad subject, and the way you have come at it tells the reader something. Are you drawn to puzzles? To proofs? To the structure that underlies everything else? To the surprise of a result that ought not to be true and is? Tutors would rather see one genuine angle than three claimed ones.

How have your qualifications and studies helped you prepare?

Connect courses to skills, not grades to claims. Calculus has sharpened your ability to think about rates of change. Statistics has taught you to be careful about what data does and does not say. Further Maths has shown you that the techniques you learned at GCSE were a small corner of a much larger room. STEP, MAT, or TMUA preparation has forced you to sit with problems for longer than the school curriculum expects. The grades themselves live elsewhere in the UCAS form. Do not repeat them. Describe what learning the material was like, and what you can now do that you could not do two years ago.

What else have you done outside of education to prepare?

UKMT challenges and olympiads matter, and recent successes (as several tutors noted) carry more weight than older ones. NRICH problems. Maths clubs. MOOCs from edX or Coursera, with a clear sense of what you got from them. A note on books: A Mathematician’s Apology and Gödel, Escher, Bach are wonderful and frequently named — so frequently named that you need to say something substantive about why this one mattered to you, or pick something less obvious. The point is never the title. The point is the thinking the book set off. Hobbies that exercise the relevant muscles count. Chess, programming projects, strategy games, even Minecraft — anything that demonstrates how you think under your own steam. Part-time work and volunteering can come in too, provided you can connect what you learned (discipline, communication, time management) to the kind of student you will be.

For physics applicants

Why do you want to study physics?

Pick a real moment, not a generic enthusiasm. I was fascinated by the universe is the answer everyone gives; it is the placeholder for an answer rather than an answer itself. What was the specific question that you could not let go of? Why did it matter to you? What did you do about it? One small piece of practical advice, raised by enough admissions tutors that it is worth passing on: be careful about Brian Cox. He is a fine communicator and a real inspiration to many students, but tutors have read thousands of statements that mention him, and they will not be moved by another. If he was important to your route into physics, fine — but frame it as what you took from him rather than that you watched him. The same applies to A Brief History of Time. Be specific about what you find interesting. Relativity, quantum, astrophysics, condensed matter, particle physics, optics — these are different subjects in many ways, and saying which excites you (and why) shows you have looked. If you have a career direction, name it, but do not pretend to certainties you do not have. Most physicists I know did not know at eighteen what they would be doing at thirty, and tutors know this.

How have your qualifications and studies helped you prepare?

The relationship between maths and physics is the one to lead with. Many physics courses lose students in the first year because they did not appreciate how mathematical degree-level physics is. If you have taken Further Maths, say what difference it made. If you have not, say how you are preparing for the maths content of the degree. Bristol explicitly said they look for evidence you appreciate the importance of maths in a physics degree, and they recommended naming particular topics — calculus, differential equations — that you have already met. Practical work matters. Talk about a required practical that taught you something, a lab where you saw the gap between theory and measurement, a piece of data analysis you did and what surprised you. If you have used Python or any other tool for data work or simulation, mention it. The skill of plotting, fitting, and interpreting data is a real one and you are allowed to be proud of having it.

What else have you done outside of education to prepare?

The British Physics Olympiad, the Senior Physics Challenge, a successful Crest project, a piece of work for an EPQ. Public lectures. Trips to observatories or research institutes. A telescope you built or use. A simulation you coded. A piece of equipment you fixed because you wanted to understand how it worked. Reading: pick books you have genuinely thought about. Better still, pick an article — from Nature, Physics World, New Scientist, or a physicist’s blog — and say what you made of it. Tutors much prefer applicants who can give an opinion on something specific than applicants who can list five popular science titles. If you have done outreach, science communication, or worked with younger students on physics, say so. Physics has a serious communication problem at a public level, and admissions tutors are aware of it. Anyone who can explain physics to a non-physicist is, in some small way, doing the discipline a favour. Bath summed up the wider point neatly: “Evidence of your interest, motivation, and commitment to the subject, including your wider reading or any events you’ve attended, and your extracurricular activities.” — University of Bath

For computer science applicants

Why do you want to study computer science?

This is the subject where the cliché problem is worst, and tutors are explicit about it. Computing is the future. I have always loved computers. I got my first laptop at three. These openings are, in the words of one Oxford tutor, a big turn-off. They are also the openings that AI tools, predictably, produce by default, and admissions tutors have noticed. “Many statements are similar, bland, impersonal. Make yours personal, specific, and concrete.” — University of Oxford Be specific about what excites you now. A recent development in machine learning, a programming project that taught you something, a question about algorithms or systems or security that has stuck with you. Then show that you understand what computer science is. The field is much broader than coding — algorithms, complexity, AI, cryptography, graphics, theory of computation, programming languages, human-computer interaction. Knowing this and being able to say which corners interest you signals that you have looked. Make the connection to your goals concrete but not grandiose. If you want to work on a particular problem, say so. If you want to start something, say so. If you do not yet know — also fine, provided you can say what you want to find out at university.

How have your qualifications and studies helped you prepare?

Maths is the single biggest predictor of success in a computer science degree, and tutors know it. Logical thinking, abstraction, proof, discrete structures, the ability to sit with a problem until it gives — these are the foundations. If you took A-level Computer Science, talk about what it gave you that A-level alone would not. If you did not, do not panic; many strong applicants haven’t. But say what you have done to fill the gap. Programming projects matter. A small but real project — a game, an app, a tool, a website — is better than a list of languages. I wrote a simple inventory tracker in Python and learned that error messages are usually telling the truth is more interesting than I know Python, Java, and JavaScript. Side projects are evidence; language lists are claims. Online courses count if you can say something about them. CS50 from Harvard is excellent and widely taken. Python for Everybody on Coursera is a reasonable starter. MIT OpenCourseWare is a goldmine for the genuinely ambitious. Mention what these gave you, not just that you completed them.

What else have you done outside of education to prepare?

Hackathons. Competitions like the Bebras Challenge or the British Informatics Olympiad. Contributions to open source, even small ones. A GitHub profile with a few real projects on it. A coding club at school, especially one you helped run. Outreach — teaching coding to younger students, helping older relatives with technology — counts more than students realise, because it forces you to translate technical ideas for non-technical audiences. Durham specifically asked applicants to write about how they work with others: “Write about how you work with others. Have you been part of a team or led a team… organise something complex…?” — Durham University Computer science is, contrary to the stereotype, an intensely collaborative discipline at the professional level, and tutors want to see signs that you have done collaborative work and can reflect on what it was like. Hobbies that exercise the same muscles count if you can make the link. Strategy games, puzzle solving, building computers, managing an online community — all of these can be useful in a statement, provided you can connect them to the way you think.

Common ground: rules every STEM statement should follow

Some of this is obvious. Some of it is obvious and yet ignored.

• Answer each question. The new format is three separate questions, not one essay broken into three. Address each prompt directly. The questions are not evenly weighted in importance; spend the most words where you have the most to say.

• Be personal. Write in the first person, write about your own experience, and write in your own voice. The single most common failure mode in personal statements is the production of a document that sounds like it was written by a committee for a hypothetical applicant. Yours should sound like you.

• Use evidence, not adjectives. I am hardworking is a claim. I spent two terms working through Hardy and Wright in the evenings is evidence. Tutors are professionals at distinguishing the two. Replace adjectives with the experiences that would justify them.

• Avoid clichés. Opening with a famous quotation. Opening with the year you were born or how old you were when you got your first computer. Calling computing the future, physics the most beautiful subject, or mathematics the language of the universe. These statements are all true. They are also all uninformative, because anyone could have written them. Start with something only you could have written.

• Proofread. The point is not that good writing wins prizes; the point is that careless writing makes a tutor wonder how careless the rest of your work will be. Read the statement aloud. Read it backwards if you want to catch typos. Show it to someone who will tell you the truth.

• Be honest. If you have not read the book, do not list it. If you did not enjoy the project, do not pretend you did. Tutors can tell — and at interview, they will find out anyway. Several tutors mentioned, with the slight weariness of people who have seen this many times, that fabricated statements are usually obvious within a paragraph or two.

• Stand out in the details. If grades are marginal, this is where it can matter. A specific, memorable detail — an unusual project, a striking insight, a piece of work nobody else will mention — gives the tutor something to remember you by. As one tutor put it, the question is whether there is something special in the statement. The detail does not have to be exotic. It has to be true and yours.

• Structure it. Use the question structure UCAS has given you. Inside each answer, write in coherent paragraphs with logical flow. The point is to be easy to read; the point is not to demonstrate vocabulary.

A note on projects, EPQs, and the curriculum advantage

For students at schools that offer an extended curriculum, project-based work, or specialist preparation, a small but important point. When admissions tutors recommend doing extra work beyond your A-levels, they are not, in most cases, thinking of students who already do this as part of their normal week. They are speaking to the average applicant. If you are at an institution that offers enritchment lectures, doing curriculum-X-style enrichment, working on an EPQ, or part of any programme that adds depth and breadth beyond standard A-level content, all of that is a goldmine of material for your statement. The work you have done in those programmes — projects, presentations, group work, mathematical investigations, physics extensions, coding work — is exactly the kind of evidence admissions tutors are asking for. You do not have to invent extra-curricular activity. You have it. The same applies for EPQs. A well-done EPQ in a relevant area is a genuinely powerful piece of evidence, because it shows the one thing tutors care about most: sustained independent engagement with a question of your own choosing. Talk about it. Talk about what you found, what surprised you, what you would do differently. Do not just name it.

Further enrichment, if you are looking for more

For students who want to go further, a short and honest list — picked from the suggestions tutors actually made.

For mathematics:

UKMT competitions and the Senior Mathematical Challenge as a starting point, moving on to the British Mathematical Olympiad if you can. NRICH for problem-solving. Project Euler if you enjoy programming. MOOCs on Coursera, edX, and Khan Academy — but with a specific learning goal, not just for the certificate. A Mathematician’s Apology by Hardy, Gödel, Escher, Bach by Hofstadter, Concepts of Modern Mathematics by Stewart, How to Solve It by Pólya. Pick one or two and think hard about them, rather than listing four.

For physics:

The British Physics Olympiad and the Senior Physics Challenge. The Senior Physics Challenge residential at Cambridge if you can get a place. The Institute of Physics has a wide range of online resources. Public lectures from the Royal Institution, the IOP, and many universities. Six Easy Pieces and QED by Feynman, The Road to Reality by Penrose if you are ambitious, anything by Carlo Rovelli for the philosophical-historical side. Try writing a short summary of a piece in Physics World or Nature — it is harder than it looks, and it teaches you something every time.

For computer science:

CS50 from Harvard, free on edX. Python for Everybody on Coursera if you are starting from scratch. MIT OpenCourseWare for serious depth, particularly 6.006 (Introduction to Algorithms). The Bebras Challenge and the British Informatics Olympiad. Hackathons, which are run more widely than students realise. A GitHub profile with a small number of real projects, not a long list of forks. Follow a couple of tech podcasts or feeds and write something honest about what you make of the discussion. The thread running through all of these is the same: depth over breadth, reflection over claim, and a few activities you have something to say about rather than many you do not.

A closing thought, for the students

The first thing to say is that the personal statement is not the gatekeeper it can feel like in October of Year 13. Most of your application is in your control already. Work as hard as you can on the academic side. Prepare properly for the admissions tests. The statement is, for most of you, an opportunity rather than a hurdle. The second is that the statement is most useful — to you, not to the university — when you write it honestly. The act of writing a serious answer to why do I want to do this? is, in itself, a way of finding out whether you do. If, three drafts in, you are still struggling to make the case, that is information. It does not necessarily mean you have chosen wrong. It might mean you need to read a few more articles, work a few more problems, or spend an afternoon with a teacher talking through what the subject actually involves at degree level. The third is that the people reading your statement are not your enemies. They are, almost without exception, academics who got into the field because they loved it and who would like to find students who love it too. They are not trying to catch you out. They are trying to find you. Make it easy for them.

For the teachers reading this:

The most useful thing we can do is read drafts honestly. Not nicely. Honestly. Tell them when the opening is a cliché. Tell them when the list of activities is not doing what they think it is doing. Tell them when a paragraph is filler. Tell them when something they have written is, actually, very good. It is one of the few moments where careful adult feedback makes a real difference, and we should not waste it on an excess of tiptoeing politeness. The statement will not, for most students, change the outcome. But the process of writing it well, of being made to articulate why this subject, why this degree, why now, is one of the small number of genuinely valuable exercises Year 13 forces on you. It is worth taking seriously, if only for the reflective nature of it. Notes from The Science lab is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, subscribe to the rss feed. Alternatively ~buy me a coffee~