To many people across our campus, I am not looked at as just Connor. 

Some may view me through the lens of this very publication and make assumptions about me based on stories I have written.

Many students see me as their Orientation Leader from the three years I have worked with that program, and I cannot tell you how many times I have been told, “You gave me my tour!”

But the identity I have held most fondly over the last few years is that of RA Connor. I was blessed to spend two transformative years working with first-year students in Seavers Hall, and I even gushed about my first group of students at the end of our year together in May 2023.

They gave me life. There were so many days when I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but the sounds of social hour happening right outside my door made all my problems temporarily disappear. We were a support network for each other, and so many of us are thriving and still connected two years later.

The relationships that environment allowed me to create — Jack, Caitlyn, Jayden, Luke, Annie, Braden, Ella and so many more — are among some of the most valuable to me during my first three years at SU.

I went above and beyond for them, and I prided myself on the passion I put into my work.

That passion is gone.

I came into this semester knowing things were going to be different. Housing had made significant changes, and first-year students were now on the west side of campus in McCune and Kieffer. 

As a third-year RA, I was confident that my preferences would be heavily considered when making building placements. I have worked three years in summer orientation and two years in our summer bridge program, so I have a lot of experience supporting first-year students. 

I wanted to be in first-year building Kieffer or McCune, but I ended up with my fourth choice of Lackhove. Lackhove, to put it gently, does not have a great reputation. It is the largest suite-style hall and is infamous for fire alarms. 

I knew it would be different, and it has been.

For one, we are no longer allowed to put students’ names on their door decorations. Housing cited security concerns as the impetus for this change, but a seemingly simplistic change has turned communities into hallways. Doors used to be a window into the lives of those who lived behind them. Now, they are just doors.

My RA experience this year has been different from the second it started. I am used to meeting my residents on move-in day; this year, I was working Fall Welcome Week, and my floor of almost entirely sophomores gradually returned to campus over a few days.

Fewer than a dozen attended my floor meeting. Only a third are in my floor’s GroupMe chat. Our report-writing system still does not show students’ ID photos — despite being more than halfway through the semester — and it is exponentially harder to match names with faces and room numbers. I do not know who is who and who lives where.

I am someone who struggles to thrive unless I can feed off the energy I get, and I am getting nothing. Now, I have decided that I have nothing left to give. After this semester, I will no longer be an RA.

It is incredibly painful for me to step away from something that has brought me so much joy over the last few years. But I know this is the decision I need to make in this moment. 

I know deep down that I do not want to step away from this position, but I can no longer complete the job I was hired to do. I respect the housing department enough to not overstay my welcome when I am no longer invested.

I am eternally grateful for the relationships I have built through this position, and I wish every student the best on-campus housing experience possible.

Because every student deserves an RA who wants to be there. I no longer do.

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