First Year: Fairly typical. My wife (then girlfriend) and I moved over-seas and started our first year at uni in Plymouth, UK. We lived in a "student flat" and mostly ignored our flat mates. She switched courses from architecture to psychology and needed to wait a year because psyc was already full-up. I finished my first year with excellent marks. Otherwise we made some friends and did the usual pub-crawling when I wasn't at lectures or labs. Good times.
Second Year: We got married and had a child. He was born there in the UK part-way into what was my second year and her first. Being across the Atlantic with a new born and nowhere near the usual support of family, it was.... interesting. We still managed to get out occasionally, but for the most part social life ceases to exist. We could hardly blame our friends though. It was uni. They were young and there to have fun & study. We were the young idiots with the kid, we could hardly expect them to stop drinking long enough to come 'round for a quiet night at the flat. And speaking of, we moved into our own private flat, since given the addition to the family a private space was certainly needed.
Third Year: My last year. In the same flat. Still across an ocean raising our son. We managed though and still made a good time of it. I graduated and got my lovely degree.
Fourth Year: I was done, she was in her last year. I worked a part-time job at the Uni making as much money as I was legally allowed to based on my visa. Spent the remainder of my time at home with my son. Same as the previous year really. Going out, having a good time. Just not in the pub-crawl sort of way.
Then home to the US. Then work. Then our own apartment. Then our own house. Then the dog. Then.....