The Final Post

"Now we all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, 'that's baaaaad.'"

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, Dead Poet's Society. I've thought much about that movie this past week, even though a John Keating I most certainly am not. This will be the last entry to what I hope was an entertaining, informative, objectively opinionated (ha) look into the life of a Community Director. It has to be the end, because the Community Director has a life no longer. Hmm, no...poorly worded. Rather, the life I live from this point forward will never again intersect with the hall I used to manage. My life as a Community Director is gone. Poof. Kaput.

I wanted to post this last entry in order to say goodbye in the best way I could manage and to make sure that a few things were understood. I LOVED this job. For almost a decade I stayed, year after year after year, because I knew that I was making a difference. I try to remain modest, but I am also being honest when I say that I HAVE CHANGED LIVES. I have made a difference in a way that many people will never be able to understand. I did not discover the cure for cancer. I did not make the lame walk, or part the Red Sea. But I have ignited passions, shaped dreams, mitigated disasters, and helped the quiet find their own voice. I did these things, and I did them well. I did them in the company and with the assistance of great colleagues and mentors whom I wouldn't trade for anything on this earth. They have made me a better man.

History teaches us that the we graduates (and not-so-graduates) refer to our universities as our Alma Mater, and if I may be so bold as to borrow from Robertson Davies: "the college is truly an Alma Mater, a Bounteous Mother, and from one breast she gives her children the milk of knowledge and from the other the milk of salvation and good doctrine." The small part I played on this campus was in guiding my residents as they attempted to face the children they once were on their way to becoming the men they were meant to be. In many ways I stood in loco parentis, but I've always believed that it was impossible for a university or anyone in it to truly stand in place of the parents. I consider myself a little more of a big brother. Having walked many of the same roads, I can tell you where the potholes are when it's raining, or at least hand you a towel to dry yourself off afterwards.

Although I am sure that this will not be the last time I ever help anyone, my time as a guiding force is largely over, or at least on hold. Someone else will have the reins here, and by the end of the semester these freshmen will barely remember that I existed. I don't feel too badly about it however, because I suppose deep down I know that it is time for me to leave. As much as I have always loved my residents and this university, the atmosphere is becoming increasingly toxic and it was increasingly difficult to be the best that I could. I was a Community Director. Not a police office or a father, no matter how badly some may have felt that I needed to be both. But the time for criticism is past. I have boxes I need to pack, a UHaul that I need to load and a road I need to get on.

Don't be mistaken. I am saddened that it has to end like this, but I refuse to let this keep me down. The dreams I dream are too vibrant, radiant and full of daring to be shut down by the petty affairs of small men in off-the-rack suits and hand-me-down principles. I have no time for them; there's nothing they can do for me.

My termination from this university is a minor setback. I'm going... wherever I end up, to lick my wounds and plan anew. To take some time and listen to the universe, and set sail in whatever direction the sun is pointing when I decide to open the door again. Much less poetically, I am leaving this blog and beginning again somewhere new. Slainte.

"Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."


All opinions here are as they have always been...entirely my own. And...if I may be permitted one last "teachable moment." To my residents, past and present, to those I will never know, Be not another if thou canst be thyself.

The End is Here

All good things must end, but I never thought that it would be this soon...

At 9 a.m. yesterday morning I was let go by the University. By 9:30 I was escorted back to the building and asked to turn in my keys. The officer told me that I had about 10 minutes to pack a bag and vacate the premises, which would be fine if I were a standard employee and not someone...who lived in the building. I asked when I would be able to return and I was told that I had to make an appointment with my supervisor, and I would be allowed approximately 2 hours to clear everything out. Fine, except... where do I sleep now? Where am I going TONIGHT?

I think that's what bothered me the most at the time. I am not an overly emotional person, but... I was now homeless. I lost my job and my home in the matter of half an hour. Probably the only thing that saved me was the fact that the Vice-President is a mother. She and I had a very good talk, and eventually I was given a 7 day extension on my eviction. It's better than nothing. Of course, they had to give me new keys since...they changed my locks by 10 a.m.

This was not a sudden decision. Yesterday was a payday. My direct deposit did not appear. Instead I was handed a paper check. That takes more than a day. Apparently there were even students who knew about this weeks ago, let alone the staff members who leaked the information to them. This was just done wrong on so many different levels, not the least of which is that they waited until after right after RA training and Freshman Move-In to do it.

One irritating thing about this has been some of the support I received. "This is the kick you needed," "Now you're free," "You can move on to what you're meant to do," etc. ad infinitum. I will agree that I probably needed a bit of a boost out of here, but again...I'm homeless. This isn't the kind of boost that anyone should have to endure. I love you all and I am thankful for the support, but I was thinking in the immediate. I couldn't even shower and change clothes, or make breakfast. Being fired is one thing, but being locked out of your home is another.

So how do I feel? Betrayed. I have shown a tremendous amount of loyalty to my University over the years. I have skipped classes to work the desk because no one else would do so. I have turned down summer internships because I knew that no one else would step up and do the work that needed to be done. I worked one entire summer without pay because they needed me. (That was a very long and hungry summer.) I've continually done more with less and less, and rarely complained. I just made it happen. And when it was time for me to go, it was without a great deal of fanfare, or consideration. Indeed, there was only the slight rustling of a few papers, a signature or two, and a police escort...

I wasn't even fired. I was summarily dismissed... The distinction is an important one. They chose the far colder and more impersonal option. It was grouped under the en masse at-will layoff the University has been executing over the past few weeks, but I'm confused. Someone has to run the hall. You can't just eliminate my position. Well, maybe you can...

The worst part is that my staff is leaderless. My sudden and impromptu termination has left them without someone in charge. I don't know how long they'll have to be this way. Half my staff is new and half of them are going to be too busy with school and personal matters to try and fill my shoes. They have questions that I cannot answer. Or should not...I actually took a break from writing this post to help them out, and when I realized that I was again behind the desk, I felt... I don't know what I felt, but there was the sensation of walking into one's childhood home after someone else has bought it and changed the carpet.

My university's motto has always been Veritas et Utilitas, which they translate as "Truth and Service." But that has always been misleading. It translates more correctly as "Truth and Usefulness," and it fits. Because as soon as you're no longer deemed useful enough, well...I'll let you finish that sentence on your own.

In truth and...service, ladies and gentlemen, it has been my pleasure...

Legal Note: Opinions in this post are my own and not representative of the university I work for or the people I work under. All suppositions, presumptions, theories, hypotheses, etc. are my own. This blog is for entertainment purposes only, blah blah blah. There are purposely no names included in this post, and I have revealed nothing that violates either general expectations of privacy or the University confidentiality agreement, which, actually... I never signed anyway. All of that is to say...don't be trying to sue me.

The Circle of Life

I'm still here...and so are the new residents...

Move-In weekend went much more smoothly than I would have expected. In the past, when the building was in better condition than it is now, I have always been forced to find ways to pacify the nitpicking parents who were unsatisfied with what we had to offer. Whether they thought there was too much dust for their asthmatic son or the room was too small or the furniture wasn't new enough... it has always been something. And that's in a good year.

Hey, guess what? This isn't a hotel.

This year, the building was most certainly not ready and I spent days gearing myself up for the complaints and dirty looks I knew I'd be receiving...but didn't. This might have been the quietest move-in I have ever experienced. Oh no, don't be misled, there was the occasional voice here and there. "I see a bigger room, can I have it?" "I've paid too much money for my son to live like this..." "This building is cracking my swag..." (verbatim by the way) but at the end of the day, the residents moved into their rooms largely without complaint. And I'm glad it's over.

Actually I'm still waiting for the phone calls I get every year once the students acclimate to their surroundings and report back home. "Is your hall really known as the gay one? I can't allow my son to live there." But that's a tale for another post.

I'll be honest. I'm not really in the mood to get to know this batch of residents. Knowing that I'm on my way out, and that I've been here long enough to have personally welcomed and presided over 2,000 people...I'm not that enthused anymore. I might be burned out on the idea of guiding 18-year-old dreams, enlightening 18-year-old ignorance, suppressing 18-year-old outbursts and comforting 18-year-old emotional angst.

Plus, this 18-year-old swag seems to conflict with my not-18-year-old mojo. I think it's time to go the way of Robert Frost. My road is diverging from theirs, and in about 10 months' time I must take the less-traveled course.

And that will make all the difference

Legal Note: Opinions in this post are my own and not representative of the university I work for or the people I work under. All suppositions, presumptions, theories, hypotheses, etc. are my own. This blog is for entertainment purposes only, blah blah blah. There are purposely no names included in this post, and I have revealed nothing that violates either general expectations of privacy or the University confidentiality agreement, which, actually... I never signed anyway. All of that is to say...don't be trying to sue me.