You take in the bones of your new room, the small, white-walled sanctuary that offers all that a bedroom should: a bed, a desk and chair, as well as a door that locks. On the other side of that door, your door, is your sudden family, a soup of different people, of different cultures, from different places. Behind that door, you have one grandmother, a supervisor, wise and kind, a solid frame of experience. There are 15 nieces and nephews, day students, if you will; you don’t see them often, but you know them, you still look after them when the time calls for it. Seven spouses, other RAs, people you might never have met before, whom you now work with, live with, rely on, and trust. And of course, 64 kids, pre-teen to teens, dorm students, your charges, the children of summer, the ones you will watch over and protect, to keep safe and ensure their fun.