End of the semester

My suitemates finally took down the Christmas tree and the snowflakes, not because the holiday season is over long long ago but because they have to move out. The bunch of smiley faces that used to squat in the room next to mine said their goodbyes and apologized for their late night madness. The resident that cooked up storms in the basement kitchen gave us a really fancy box of tea.

The official ending to the spring semester was marked by a very long and hectic move-out process. I had to go up and down to check out residents and their rooms for 6 hours on both Thursday and Friday, and 4 hours Saturday morning. The entire Hemenway was blocked by cars of parents that the ghettofabulous police had to come and shout over loudspeaker, “MOVE YO CAR!” There is no room to walk in the building either. At one point I saw my life flash in front of my eyes when a parent walking up the stairs in front of me almost dropped a box of kitchen wares. I wonder if there had been knives in the box.

12pm on Saturday we had the whole building emptied. “Emptied” and I really mean it, by pushing the procrastinators, harassing the pack-as-he-go movers, or threatening to sue the rich kid that said, “I don’t want them anymore, can’t I just leave them all here?” The RD wanted a ghost building by 12pm and we didn’t want to be stuck checking out residents all day on such a sunny Saturday either. This girl was nowhere to be found at 11:45am and a lot of her stuff were unpacked. We were told to stuff everything into five trash bags and take them out of the building. Of course it was followed by intense drama when she came back. Emotions as well as profanity flew high but my RD is an amazing smooth talker and actually got her to apologize. I’d like to think I have learned a few things from my RD, at least by passive diffusion.

When the last resident returned his keys, I am technically relieved of my RA responsibilities although I will still have free meals and ID access for another ten days. No more house arrest of duty nights and mind-eating boredom of proctor shifts. I really think I enjoyed this semester despite all the unfortunate things that included: dealing with bloody broken fingers of a resident very late one night; calming down the girl that obtained a court restraining order against her roommate who jokingly threatened to kill her; talking to the girl who bawled her eyes out 2am in the morning; and listening to the entire history of the troubled family of an 18-year-old. Now no more of that. When they all moved out in one piece, both physically and emotionally, it is as much as a burden off my shoulders as a dance that finished nicely. I am responsible for only my own body and behavior and not the whole building. I feel like dancing.