It was 3 a.m. when the VA on-call phone started to ring on a Saturday in mid-December of last year.

I was holding the phone, and when that horrible ringtone started blaring, I felt both dread and exhaustion. 

“VA on call, this is Keeley,” I answered into the flip phone that we get the pleasure of toting around with us while on duty. 

Flip phones already provide low-quality reception, but at 3 a.m. when you’re barely awake, it’s worse. The words I did hear were ‘cops, fight, come quick.’ No matter what order you arrange those words in, it’s bad.

So, my on-call partner and I ran down four flights of stairs and raced through the snow to the other freshman building only to find ourselves face to face with a lobby crowded with onlookers. They were gawking at four campus safety officers and three police officers surrounding a resident’s door at the end of a men’s hallway. We told the surrounding residents to disperse and when they didn’t listen, I could feel myself getting angry. We said it again hoping they would listen and made our way cautiously down to the end of the hall.

We put together the pieces from the hall director on call and found out that the resident in question was suicidal and his roommate, who he usually listens to, couldn’t help him and was panicking in the hallway. 

If that wasn’t enough to handle, the roommate had decided to pick a fight with the police because he felt they weren’t doing enough to help.

Even though I wish it wasn’t, my first instinct was to turn around and run far away.

But, I’m in a leadership role and had to figure out how to control the crowd. I also had to inform the campus safety officers that I was on-call but didn’t know about the ongoing incident. This made me feel ineffective, but contrary to what they tell you in mental health training, residents rarely announce when they’re suicidal. 

Meanwhile, I was simply praying that the suicidal student didn’t make a decision that would have changed the lives of everyone in the building. My prayers were somehow answered, but when the student was finally coaxed out of the room and walked down the hallway, my on-call partner immediately stepped in front of me. 

I will never unsee the eyes of the student; they were bloodshot, unfocused, disturbed and terrified. I found myself thinking that we had almost been involved in a tragedy.

Much later on I found myself thinking that I was only a year-and-a-half older than most of the residents, if that. But, I was in charge. I was responsible. If something would’ve gone awry, the outcomes would have fallen on my shoulders. If I would’ve thought about that too hard, maybe I would’ve quit.

Dawn Papandrea is a journalist who studied the evolving role of resident advisers.

“Parents and students expect RAs to solve roommate problems and ensure dorms are conducive to study time and sleep. But with an amplified national discourse on sexual assault, gun violence and mental illness—not to mention some high-profile campus tragedies in recent years—today’s resident assistants are on the front lines of a whole host of issues related to safety and overall wellness.”

Of course, as VAs, we go through training sessions on all of those topics — from how to report a Title IX case to responding to an active shooter to how to talk someone down from a panic attack. 

However, no amount of training can prepare you for the real thing. 

I’m not here to say that VAs shouldn’t have to deal with these situations. We’re on the front lines of student activity, and we see more than any professional staff member of the university sees. We should deal with these situations.

What I am here to say is that we should give ourselves a break. The professional staff always does its best to support us both in the moment and after the fact, but there is no linear timeline for recovery.

After the situation with the suicidal student was resolved that night, I didn’t get a break. I was still on-call for the next 12 or so hours, I was still assisting my own residents and I was still a student and a human being. 

On Sept. 10, 2019, three EF-2 tornadoes hit Sioux Falls. While the tornadoes were wreaking their havoc on the city, residence halls were full of panicking, terrified students. 

VAs were never trained on any tornado protocol. We received no direction in the moment on how to handle the situation, and the direction we did receive was unclear and mixed. Most of us handled it on our own, doing the best we could. 

I was in my building that night where scared freshmen were running all over and constantly asking me, “What do we do? Where do I go?”

I had to look at them and tell them that I didn’t know. The basement in my building was not built for holding students during a natural disaster. Instead, because I’m on the first floor, a whole crowd of students gathered on my floor. They sat in the hallway, wrapped in blankets, constantly refreshing Twitter and some attempting to do homework. 

I, myself, am terrified by tornadoes. So, while I may have appeared to be the picture of serene tranquility and composure, I was wracked with anxiety and fear. 

After it was all said and done, I was still a VA. I still had to get up the next morning and go to class. I still had to answer questions from my residents about classes and dorm life. 

That’s why we deserve to give ourselves some grace. We see and deal with a lot in the course of a school year all while we continue to be students. 

We deserve to lock ourselves in our rooms once in a while with our phones turned off and refusing to answer the door if anyone comes knocking. We deserve to get off campus, even if just for an hour. We deserve to say no when someone asks us for something that isn’t in our job description. We deserve to ask for help when we feel like the free room is no longer worth it. 

Of course, it’s easier said than done, and I am the last person to be giving this advice. However, if we allow ourselves to make mistakes and forgive ourselves for not handling every situation perfectly every time, we’ll be better VAs. 

When I think back on that December on-call night, I think of a million ways I would’ve handled the situation differently. But then I remind myself that everyone is safe and healthy.

And for now, that’s enough. 

Source: “The Evolving Role of RAs” by Dawn Papandrea