See You Next Year... Or Not!
See You Next Year… Or Not!
Written by Lily Brown
It’s timeeeee! That’s right. Winter break closing season has arrived, which means three things:
You’re exhausted.
I’m exhausted.
Mariah Carey is officially defrosted, warmed up, and currently sprinting down the LB halls chasing you to scan the break leave QR code before you go.
As you pack up your emotional baggage and your literal baggage, let’s talk. I know you’re tired. You’ve powered through five-ish finals, completed four course evaluations, submitted three portfolio reviews, survived two “quick” film shoots that somehow needed a full lighting kit from the EDC you definitely returned late, and wrapped one group project where your team decided to go completely off-grid.
And listen: I get wanting to flee. I, too, would like to barrel-roll out of LB like it’s a Mission Impossible stunt the moment my last duty shift ends. But unfortunately, you cannot just Irish-exit the residence halls. You cannot ghost us like you ghost your Discussion Board replies. I don’t care if your roommate already vanished, evaporated, and/or teleported back to Ohio the second their final ended. You cannot leave your room in shambles; you still have to do this right.
Thanksgiving closing was rough. Not “oops, I forgot to take out my recycling” rough. More like “CSI: Emerson—Special Trash Unit” rough. After going through your rooms for a literal four-day break (it was… bad, guys. Just bad), you’re going to want to read closely about what winter break closing involves. Consider this your warning slip like a “You missed a UPS delivery” notice,except it’s me, and I will find you.
Yes, You Actually Have to Leave Your Room
The time has come… to lipsync for your life! Just kidding. But you do have to sashay away. I know. Shocking. Tragic. Devastating. A personal attack on your freedom of expression, activism, and artistry. But yes, residence halls close. They go night-night. They become massive, echoing, RA-patrolled versions of the Backrooms.
And you? You get to go home, or go on a trip, or go sit in your childhood bedroom and stare at your elementary school wall art. Some residents do stay over winter break, but you would have already filled out that housing application. If you’re reading this now, the deadline is long gone. It’s too late for you. You are going home. Pack your bags.
Scan the QR Code. PLEASE
I’m going to say this calmly, professionally, and with all the warmth of a Boston winter: Scan. The. Break. Leave. QR. Code. It’s posted literally everywhere—elevator bays, lobbies, outside the RA/RD office, plastered on the front doors. It’s impossible to miss unless you’re actively ignoring it, which, let’s be honest, you are.
Do us RAs a favor and just fill out the housing form. It takes 20 seconds. Maybe less if you're a digital native raised on TikTok. This is the same generation who can edit a video, write captions, add music, cook dinner, and overthink their last interaction all at the same time. You can scan a little box.
Right now, Mariah Carey is warming up her vocal cords, cracking her knuckles, and preparing to belt “All I Want For Christmas Is You… to finish your closing form.” She is unstoppable. She is eternal. She can smell unscanned QR codes. Do not test her.
What You Actually Need to Do
Okay, deep breath. This is where your eyes glaze over, but I promise this part matters. If you don’t do these things, consequences will occur. Not legal consequences. Emotional consequences. Spiritual consequences. Olfactory consequences. Please. Spare us. Spare yourselves. Spare the ecosystem forming in your trash can.
If you think we haven’t seen:
Entire wardrobes on the floor like someone lost a fight with their laundry
Old El Jefe’s bowls fossilized into new life-forms
LED lights arranged in what can only be described as “a cry for help”
Unplugged fridges with contents that legally qualify as a crime scene
…then you have underestimated your peers.
So, here is your Winter Break Closing To-Do List:
Take out your trash. You’d think this would be obvious. And yet… every single break, at least one person leaves behind a trash bag that may or may not have another form of life growing from it. And guess who has to dispose of it? (Me.) Do not be that person. I will remember. I will find you in January. I will stare at you, wordlessly, in the elevator. You’ll know why.
Unplug everything. Thanksgiving closing lets you keep fish tanks and fridges plugged in. But winter break? Absolutely not. Everything must be unplugged. Lamps. Fans. Air purifiers. Projectors. TVs. Chargers. LED strips. If it has a cord, just unplug it.
Empty your fridge. The land of forgotten yogurts awaits. Throw everything out. Yes, everything. And leave your fridge door open afterward so it doesn’t mold. No, this will not “attract ghosts.” The ghosts are already here and they don’t care about your fridge.
Put away your belongings. Look, it’s your space, but I don’t want to see your personal…whatever. We enter every room for the final check to confirm nothing will explode, melt, catch fire, summon demons, or worse, summon T&P majors. Make sure some of your more prized possessions are put away. You know the list of prohibited items. Be wicked smaht about it.
Close your windows. You laugh now, but no one laughs when snowflakes or movie clips are projected onto the Common View dorms and suddenly everyone can see your entire room because you forgot your shades.
Turn off your lights. We love energy efficiency. We love saving the planet. Remember: “Be the change you want to see in the world,” — Gandhi, probably referencing your overhead lighting.
Don’t forget your ID. It will choose violence. It will hide from you. It will ruin your first week back. And guess who doesn’t have tap access until we return for Spring semester? You (imagine me pointing at you dramatically like Tyra Banks in America’s Next Top Model yelling “We were all rooting for you!”).
The MBTA will let you down. If you’re taking the T to the airport, it will be delayed. It will stop. It will make you reconsider everything. Plan accordingly because once the clock strikes 12 p.m. on December 17th, there’s no fairy godmother coming to let you back into your room to wait it out.
Closing feels chaotic. Finals have turned your brain into warm academic oatmeal. Packing feels like wrestling your personality into a duffel bag. But we believe in you. You are capable of greatness, responsibility, and removing perishables from your fridge.
And we want you to have the best time off imaginable. Truly. But we will, respectfully, lose our marbles on closing day if someone overstays their welcome or leaves something still plugged in. Look, winter is coming, but do not make me unleash Winter Break RA. No one wants that. Not even me.
So, scan your QR code. Clean your room. Pack your life and go have a magical, cozy, restful winter break knowing you did not contribute to the next episode of “CSI: Emerson.” See you in January, besties!