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Showing posts with label dorm life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dorm life. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Lessons Learned: Paper+Water+Flour+Balloon

As a pretentious 24-year-old, I knew I had a lot to offer when I took this job. What I failed to realize was that this job had so much to offer me. I forget that sometimes.

In the two and half years I've been in this job, I've learned so much more than I could ever imagine. Some things I never actually expected to learn...like how to papier-mâché. Never in my 18 years of living at home, my 4 years in college, and 2 years in California did I ever have the need to papier-mâché. But apparently, as a Residence Director for a freshmen girls' dorm in the middle of nowhere, it's a necessary skill.


I first learned this skill during Homecoming my first year here. By my third year, I told the girls absolutely no papier-mâché for homecoming. It's a mess. I hate it.

I couldn't totally get rid of it, but at least this project was for something worthwhile.

We celebrated the dorm's 60 years of existence, but that's a mouthful so we called it our 60th birthday. We had a whole week of celebrations that was probably a little bit of an over kill. Friday was the birthday bash. We had karaoke, dance party, food, and...piatas. One of the girls came up with the brilliant idea of having pinatas. Who doesn't like hitting the crap out of something and getting something good in return? The same girl volunteered to make the pinatas, and what does it require? Papier-mâché, of course.

She did the first layer and I came over a few days later to help her with the second and third layer.


Papier-mâché isn't that bad. It's just a mess and requires long periods of drying time so they have to sit there. I don't really know why I have such an aversion to it. Bad first experience, I guess.


These turned out well. The girls had a blast smashing it to pieces and when they're happy, so am I.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Crazy or Stupid?

There are times in an RDs life when one has to choose between crazy and safe. Bed races are one of those times. When I started this job three years ago, I thought people were nuts! What the heck are bed races? I had no clue what they were talking about until I saw this:



This beast is the bane of my existence. Mine is a monster. Someone made it before I even started here and went a little weld happy. It's made of all bed materials (except the wheels, obviously), while other beds, like Nicole's, are part bed, part bike. So much lighter and so much more efficient. As efficient as you can get with a bed with wheels.

The morning started out with me praying for a miracle that the bed will stay in one piece and that no one gets hurt. Then, one of my girls and I put the wheels on the bed. Wheels with flat tires. No prob! We have a bike pump. After three years of doing this, I came prepared. We had just enough time to pump up the tires, get the racers ready, and do one test run. The spirit and energy that my girls had reminds me of why I love my job!

After bed blessings (yup, we bless everything at Catholic schools), my girls lifted the bed to put it on the trailer and one of the wheels fell off. My heart sank. They got it back on there and moved on. While it was on the trailer, one of the rods that was holding the far right wheel fell off. I panicked at this point. It turned out okay because our Monster has more wheels than is necessary. The wheel was also attached to the other rod. It looked safe enough to keep going.

Of course I had to give them the safety talk. "If the tires start falling off, just stop! Just stop! I'll come get you." I think they got it.

Half an hour after this incident, the boys and co-ed team turned the corner to get into campus and cross the finish line. A minute or two later, the girls came. A couple minutes after the girls, I feared the worst. My girls were nowhere close. I started walking towards the street to see where they were. On my way there, I see my girls turning the corner singing and pushing our still-intact-bed. I breathed a sigh of relief and started screaming to get them pumped. We were last...as always. It's "tradition." Happy to continue it.