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.
They don’t come as a surprise, you know how many there will be, you count down the days till you meet them, yet it’s still sudden and unexpected, but not unwelcome, quite the opposite in fact. Every day, every single day, you discover something new about the people around you, and yourself, as cheesy as that sounds. You see what they like and what they don’t, what they excel at and what they need help with, you learn who they are, and they help you learn more about yourself as well. You eat breakfast and dinner with them, ride the same bus and live in the same building; after all, their safety is in your hands. But don’t worry too much, or worry, you’ll find out that it’s all a learning process anyway, a step-by-step game plan for busy days and restless nights.
The position of resident assistant, or “RA,” is that of a cat wrangler, someone who must take the salt from one ocean and move it to another. With only a paper cup. A seemingly impossible task, yet, it is as rewarding as it is difficult. Some days, your 64 or so new children will drive you off the cliff of sanity, down the hills of logic and into the canyon of Wait, You Did What!? Other times, when they think you’re not looking, they will do something that touches your heart, making you smile, even if you don’t want to. It’s like learning a dance by practicing with an experienced partner, with a short temper, who can be kind, but speaks a language you’ve never heard of. Oh yeah, and you’re dancing in front of a paying crowd.
And yet, if someone asked you to quit, to walk away from the stress, for the laughter and tears, from the drama and the satisfaction, to walk away from it and leave those 64 kids, your 64 kids, in the hands of another, you’d say, “No.” You’d say no for the same reason you pause before saying no. Because while being an RA requires every last bit of energy from you, to the point where you’ll nap for four hours a day and sleep for 11 that night, if you were lucky, which you’re not, it is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have. In a way, it’s like Stockholm syndrome, but you don’t have to take my word for it, I’m sure if you want to become an RA, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.
Kā’ai Fernandez is an English major at the University of Hawaiʻi Manoa. While off-duty, he enjoys watching nature documentaries, playing video games, reading, writing, simply “chilling” in general, and observing the world and the people around him.
