Life As a Resident Advisor

As I climb up to my lofted bed in the closet-sized dorm room located in the Freshman building, I quietly laid my head upon my feathered pillow. The thoughts and images of the day run through my head as I think of the somber night ahead of me. Work, class, library for a few hours, back to class, gym, dinner, homework, duty night…my busy schedule never lets me rest. The sound of my Honeywell fan blows calm air; circulating throughout my cluttered room.
Although my dorm hall is full of twenty-eight busy Freshmen, this is the first time I am living alone. The continuous running up and down the hall is vivid in my mind. I wish I could jump off the lofted bed to open the door and tell them to quiet down. But I refuse to get out of my perfectly positioned bed. My cotton sheets warm my body as I turn every which way to find the ideal position. My body sinks into the mattress pad and the sigh of relief twirls out of my nose and chest. The day is done.
Just as my eyes close and I obliterate the moon’s light through the pearl shades, I hear the yells and laughs from the Freshmen outside my window.
“Monica, Monica…are you awake?”
Their joy from a night out does not stay quiet for I hear laughs and excitement through my open window. The only sound I would like to hear right now is the breeze flowing through my window and the occasional hustle of leaves on the tree outside my room. This is part of my position as a Resident Advisor. I am constantly on the job and my residents seem to be nocturnal.
As I turn the other way and face my exhausted bones towards the wall, I hear the Freshmen parting ways and collaborating that I must be asleep. As I attempt to sleep for the second time, I hear the sorrow cries and sniffles outside my door, accompanied by a quiet knock. I realize that this must be the resident who did not go out that night and is feeling alone, just as I am. I toss my blanket off of my warm skin and slowly climb down my wooden ladder. I shake the bedpost as I embrace my body to avoid falling on my injured right foot, which I leave cast-less when I sleep. As I stumble towards my heavy, metal door, I flick on the illuminating headlights that brighten the room.
I peer out the door as I open it cautiously and I see one of my residents with a river of tears running down her face and a box of tissues in her left hand. She waits for me to prop my door open and she lunges towards me to be hugged.
“I…I am so homesick, I want to go home,” she sniffles. Her saddened voice may have been quiet, but the impact it made on me weighted my body down. Her slump shoulders and baggy clothes created a lonely, shriveled image upon her body. She slowly walked in and sat on my futon to talk.
My resident began to pour her feelings out to me about how she missed her parents and her high school friends. “I’ll never fit in here, and I’m beginning to think I should just give up. Everyone is from the same high school or town…it is really not fair, ya know?” Her breathing began to get heavier as she continued, but by intersecting with a slight smile, she calmed her nerves and went back to discussing her opinions of the school.
Her feeling of loneliness and sorrow is typical among students who have just begun their first year at this school. I was also in the same boat she was when I started off, and ironically, I still feel the same even though I have been a college student for almost three full years.
“There will be patches of ups and downs for the duration of your college career,” I explained, “but the numbers of positive experiences will outweigh these few negatives by a huge number.” I wanted to go on and on about how much fun she will soon have once she begins to get more comfortable; however, I knew I should not bombard her with such statements. All I needed to do was comfort her and listen to those saddened words come out of her mouth.
After a little while, the Freshman resident departs and quietly whispers “Thank you,” as she gives me a gentle hug.
I steadily climb back up into my lofted bed to get a decent night sleep before I start my busy day all over again. This is only the beginning of my life as an RA.

-Monica Augustyn