WTF Is A Student Connection (and Why Is It Knocking at Your Door)?

Written by Lily Brown

Knock knock. Who’s there? It’s RA Lily. RA Lily, who? Bestie… it’s April. And if you still don’t know who I am as your friendly LB Resident Assistant, or what (RA)nts is then that’s kind of on you.

But silly me. Where are my manners? Knock knock, because it’s me. And I genuinely want to know how you’re doing. Not just as your RA, but as a friend, a neighbor, and someone who lives in the same slightly chaotic building as you.

But jokes aside, one of the main reasons I’m at your door is to connect with you. I know. Scary. Your RA is knocking. She’s about to ask you questions. About yourself. Sounds a little sus, but I promise it’s not like that. What you might not realize is that we actually do care about you. Not in a performative, checkbox kind of way, but in a very real “we’ve been there before” kind of way. Because a lot of us have.

And freshman year? It’s hard. Like, wicked hard. Especially here at Emerson. You’re learning how to be a college student and how to live in a city at the same time. You’re figuring out what works academically (and what absolutely does not). You’re adjusting to independence while also realizing you have no idea what you’re doing half the time. You’re making friends, losing friends, finding your people, questioning everything, and maybe reinventing yourself every other week.

On top of that, you’re balancing:

classes
social life
mental health
maybe a job
maybe family expectations
getting involved in orgs
and trying to feel like you actually belong here

You’re seriously dealing with a lot. And what person makes more sense to check in on you than your RA?

Also, a quick behind-the-scenes moment, but we RAs actually do have to log our interactions with you. Sounds wild, right? But I promise it’s not some weird surveillance system. It’s partly accountability (like, yes, we are doing our jobs), but more importantly, it helps us track how our residents—and our community—are doing over time.

Knock and Talks

Me when I show up at your door.

This is the classic. The one you all know. The one some of you actively avoid.Think of student connections as a vibe check, but more official. Not the scary kind. Not the “you’re in trouble” kind. More like:

“Are you sleeping?” (Be honest.)
“Have you eaten something today?”
“How are your classes going?”
“Are you okay, like actually okay?”

Sometimes the answer is, “Yeah, I’m thriving.” And I love that for you. Sometimes it’s, “I’m surviving.” Also valid. And sometimes it’s, “I don’t know.” That last one matters the most. Because if something’s off—academically, socially, emotionally—we can help point you in the right direction. Not fix your life (I wish I had that kind of power), but connect you to resources, or even just listen for a minute so you’re not carrying everything alone.

The themes of these conversations change depending on the time of semester, but they usually revolve around five big things:

Academics
Emerson Involvement
Self-care
Change/transition
Identity exploration

So if I randomly ask you about your sleep schedule and your five-year plan in the same conversation, now you know why.

A real pic of you when I come by. Not kidding.

Finding All 30 of You

Believe it or not, student connections are an across campus thing because we’re not just trying to connect with the freshmen. (Though, if you ask me, they probably are the ones that need it the most.) That said, our direct numbers vary RA to RA. I have around 30 of you, which is a lot, since the floor is split between three RAs. Thirty. Individual. Humans. And I’m expected to check in with every single one of you multiple times a year. Some RAs have fewer, maybe 15–20. Sometimes even less. But in LB? We’re working. So if it feels like I’m everywhere, it’s because I kind of have to be.

And while knock-and-talks are the main method, I know some of you dodge us like it’s a full-time job. So we adapt. Maybe I catch you in the elevator bay. Maybe in the elevator itself (no escape). Maybe while I’m on rounds and you suddenly remember you “have somewhere to be.” Maybe it’s on your very public IG page. Whatever it is, we find ways. Not to be annoying (okay, maybe a little), but because connecting with you actually matters.

Writing Them Down (AKA The Paper Trail You Didn’t Know You Had)

After all that, I have to write it down. Every single time. Your name, your building, your room number, which connection it is (out of four), what we talked about, and a summary of how you’re doing. And while I am a writer who prides herself on getting every single one of you in the books, it’s a tedious process.

And because I’m extra, I really do try to get all 30 of you. Every round. Every semester. Imagine doing that 30 times, four times a year. It adds up.

And the real question is: who reads the thousands of these coming in? No one. Just kidding! Professional staff—like RDs, Housing Directors, and Student Affairs—use them to get a sense of how students are doing overall. So, it’s not like we’re writing one measly little sentence about you saying that you’re fine and calling it a day (well, not me at least). I’m paying attention. I’m noticing patterns. I’m trying to understand what your semester actually looks like.

So, wait… Why does this matter? At this point, you might be thinking, “Okay, but why should I care that my RA is basically journaling about me like I’m a Sims character?” Fair question. Again, student connections aren’t about surveillance. I promise I’m not building a conspiracy board in my room with a red string connecting all of you. It’s more like a structured excuse for us to check in on you in a real way. To make sure you’re not slipping through the cracks. To remind you someone notices you’re here.

Next time you hear that knock on your door, don’t panic. It’s not a horror movie. It’s not a pop quiz. It’s not me trying to catch you doing something. It’s just me, your RA, checking in. Maybe I’ll ask about your classes. Maybe I’ll ask about your plans. Maybe we’ll talk for two minutes.maybe 10! Maybe you’ll tell me something real, or maybe you’ll just say, “I’m good,” and that’s okay too. So yeah. Knock knock. Who’s there? It’s your RA. And no, you don’t have to hide.