I smoothed down the edges of the tape and leaned back to admire my work. The photo wall in my dorm room on the third floor of 118 W 13th St. was complete. My first month of college had been relatively smooth-sailing so far.
Little did I know, that in just a week I would be taking down my photos and leaving the place that finally seemed like home.
On Friday, Sept. 21, two days after designing my wall, I checked my email and saw a note from University Housing: “13th Street Residence Relocation.” I would be moving soon, very soon, because mold had been found all throughout the walls of the building. The home that I’d established, the roommates I’d bonded with, the photo wall I’d created – all of it would be uprooted after only a month.
That night, the first person moved out to Loeb Hall.
The housing staff provided free packing materials in the lobby. I hadn’t been assigned another place to live, but I grabbed a cardboard box and started organizing my belongings.
Over the weekend, my roommates, HeeEun Chung and Jude Rodriguez, and I wondered about our new situations. What would the rooms be like? Would each of our new roommates be chill? Would they let us blast our music and have dorm room dance parties like we (occasionally) did? Would we even get along?
None of us were ready to say goodbye. We hadn’t requested to be together, beginning the year as total strangers–but by month one, we were an unstoppable trio.
On Monday, when Jude moved out to Marymount Manhattan’s dorms on 57th street, I gave my first tearful hug goodbye.
Walking through the halls, I heard irritated students talking about the mold and the building condition.
“Don’t touch that wall, there might be mold!”
“I’ve been coughing for two weeks, it’s obviously the mold.”
“Did they, like, not inspect the building over the summer?”
I, too, was disgruntled by the process (and slightly grossed out by the mold).
Some students were going to Brooklyn, others were going to the 92nd Street Y. Any vacancies in the school’s other dorms were quickly filled. My RA shared updates whenever he received them and checked in on how the residents were doing. The university tried to accommodate us by providing us small lockers to keep materials and emailing out a list of students affected by the move to their professors. Absences would not be excused, but the faculty would hopefully better understand the situation.
I went out and found a few potential apartments, but without a roommate and furniture, my parents and I agreed it would be best if I just stuck it out in the dorms for the year.
Two days later, on Wednesday, my other roommate moved across the street to the Markle Residence.
I considered joining her. At least they won’t have the added commute and there are free meals, I reasoned. But adjusting to life in a women’s only residence with strangers ranging 18-55 years old, and a rumoured dress code? Not the place for me.
An hour or so after my last roommate had left, I received my relocation assignment.
The housing staff assigned me a large dorm shared by Baruch and LIM College on the Upper East Side by 97th street. The school would give me an unlimited Metrocard each month and an $100 Visa gift card as an apology for the inconvenience.
They also gave us goodie bags containing a small pack of Kleenex, six lollipops, two Tide pods and a single tea packet. How… thoughtful?
Friday afternoon, I moved. I placed my boxes in the lobby, and the school took care of moving them to my new dorm.
I was placed in another triple. The room is larger than my old one, and there’s a large communal kitchen downstairs, so I’m excited to start cooking again–kitchens were a luxury not provided in 13th. We have a fully-equipped gym, lounge areas and our own TV in each room. It’s not a half-bad place to live. Fortunately, I’m locked into my old housing rate, so I don’t have to pay extra for these added amenities.
I have two new roommates who I’m getting to know. Since they’d been rooming together at 13th street, their transition seemed a bit smoother than mine. While both are very sweet (and tidy), it’s frustrating to have to repeat this process of adjustment.
Currently, the plan is to move back into the old building for spring semester and I’m already dreading having to box everything up again. While nothing has been guaranteed, the RAs I’ve spoken with believe we will return to our previous living arrangements with our original roommates.
A common complaint from students was that by separating everyone, a community was being torn apart.
It’s true that we’re now spread out over the city, but I met and talked to more people in the week leading up to my move than I had the whole month.
People wanted to engage, and it was an easy conversation-starter since we were all experiencing it. But conversations would then change from mold to discussions of our personal backgrounds, and next thing I’d know, I’d be hanging out in the basement or patio with a group of people I didn’t know.
Knowing we were losing our community only helped us build it faster.
I think it’s true that the school could have made a better effort to keep roommates together, or at least explain better why they couldn’t. I wish they would tell us more information about the mold itself. How much was there? When will it be tested to see if it is harmful? How can I find the results of the test?
I recognize that this was an unforeseen problem, and I respect the school’s quick action. The RAs and residence staff have been under tremendous pressure, and I recognize that they’re doing their best.
But until “take two” of move-in, you can find me on the 6 train in the morning or working out in my new, luxurious gym in the evening.
It’s been a strange, unstable first month of college for the residents of 13th street. I suspect that – much like the way that moving out gave us a common experience to discuss, moving back in will do the same. I have no doubt that this will only make our community more tight-knit and stronger.
Photo by Jessica Davies