Housing has failed us. Ask anyone who has requested a mid-year room transfer, a housing accommodation, or alternative housing — chances are they encountered resistance, delays, or silence. As housing selection season approaches, instead of looking forward to next year’s living situation, I find myself uneasy about repeating a process that has already proven unnecessarily difficult. As rising juniors, my classmates and I should feel confident entering the housing lottery. Instead, many of us are bracing for another year of uncertainty. We deserve better — and it is time to demand it.
Last year’s decision to designate Currier Quad as first-year housing fundamentally reshaped the options available to rising sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Students were forced into a precarious choice: Live in Mission again or sacrifice the possibility of securing a single. Many of us ended up in unfavorable arrangements because there was little alternative.
During my first year, I entered the housing selection cautiously optimistic. My friends and I formed a room selection group to improve our chances of living near one another. Yet, when our selection time arrived, the only available option was Mills-Dennett 0 (MD 0), historically known as temporary “COVID housing.” Being in the forgotten basement used for mid-year room switches was far from ideal, but it was what was left. I was one of the lucky few in my group to have lived in Frosh Quad during my first year, so I did not have to repeat a year in Mission, widely regarded as the worst first-year dorm before the Currier switch. Many were not as fortunate. Once again, we conceded.
After touring the space, we began to see potential. The common room was spacious, the floor quieter than traditional Mission housing, and with effort, it felt livable. When move-in arrived, we made MD 0 a home. We decorated, cleaned neglected corners, vacuumed dead insects from forgotten crevices, and repeatedly explained to confused friends where exactly we lived. Self-sufficiency defined our first weeks on campus.
What we could not provide for ourselves, however, was institutional support. MD 0 lacked a designated House Coordinator, and my friends and I, along with the other residents of MD 0, were left without the resources that House Coordinators provide, such as community funding, communication, and advocacy if something goes wrong. In practice, my neighbors and I became our own House Coordinators — submitting maintenance requests, organizing community efforts, and addressing problems ourselves, without the training, authority, or recognition normally provided. We built community where we could, but it was clear we were doing work the College was supposed to do. We knew we deserved better.
On Sept. 12, my neighbors and I emailed Housing, requesting support for our floor community. Our message emphasized a simple point: MD 0 deserved the same care afforded to any other residential space on campus. The email went unanswered for over a month.
Realizing we weren’t going to get a response, a fellow resident and I visited the Office of Student Life and Leadership. Only after visiting the office in person were we able to secure a meeting with Zach Cramer. We were told that the message had been read but that responding had simply not been prioritized. Improvements eventually followed, but only after sustained student advocacy. Support should not depend on persistence that borders on excessive.
One of, if not the biggest, drawbacks to living in Mission is that it is designated winter break housing. Mission residents’ dorm rooms are subject to use by students staying on campus, meaning they may have to pack up their belongings before moving out for winter break. This was an agreement all residents of Mission made when we selected the dorm — although it was in fine print at the bottom of the description.
Last year, residents volunteered their rooms and were only required to pack up if a resident was already assigned to live there over winter break. This year, however, every resident of Mission, Tyler House, and Tyler Annex that I have spoken to was required to prepare their room, regardless of whether someone would be staying there over winter break. In a Dec. 8 email from Housing notifying me that my room would be used, it was stated that not everything had to be packed up. The email said it was “up to you as far as the extent you do so” but “on-campus storage is not available.” The email outlined that selected residents needed to strip the bed of linens, clean the room, remove any perishables, clean the fridge, and clear at least one flat surface, either a desk or dresser.
Housing told us that failure to comply would result in severe consequences: A reduction of 150 housing points and a fine of $500, plus a potential report to the Dean’s Office for disciplinary action. These are significant consequences that differ from last year’s policy, where students could volunteer their room for winter break housing, in return for housing points. These changes also meant that I and other residents needed to make my own arrangements to pack up my room in the busiest week of the semester: finals.
We all likely have different opinions about having a stranger occupy our space for two weeks. Perhaps you would be worried about damage to your room or your belongings. Or theft. Or coming back to a mess you did not leave. I, like many of my friends, chose to err on the side of caution and I spent hours duct-taping drawers shut and hauling my valuables back home. The consolation prize of 20 housing points for making Mission and Tyler residents pack up their room is simply not sufficient.
As it turned out, I ended up packing my room for nothing since I did not receive any extra housing points because no one ended up moving into my room. The College’s website specifies that points are only awarded under the condition that another student actually occupies the vacated room during winter break. I was emailed to pack up my room under the impression that someone would be staying there, when this was not the case.
It is true that my friends and I agreed to live in Mission, and that we were aware that our rooms may be selected for winter break housing. But when Currier Quad was removed from upper-class housing options, many students had little real choice but to select spaces that come with serious drawbacks. Consent loses meaning when alternatives disappear. I would have no qualms if I had volunteered my room to be used, but instead my room was assigned with no regard for my opinions of its use or the circumstances that led me here.
If I believed that my story was unique, I would not have shared it. But in addition to my own experiences, I have heard far too many secondhand stories of students having similar bad experiences. I cannot sit idly by any longer. So here it is — my demand for more support.
First, I suggest that Housing should improve its communication with students. It is unacceptable for emails to get no response for months. It is unacceptable to ask students to email before walking into the Housing office. It is unacceptable to turn students away if the doors are open. It is unacceptable to not be able to offer students a secure, permanent place to stay on campus. Students deal with enough in their academic and personal lives: It is unacceptable that they should have to worry about their housing circumstances.
I also suggest that Housing should reconsider the design of the winter break housing model. In an ideal world, students who need to remain on campus over winter break — for whatever reason — would simply be allowed to stay in their own rooms. I understand the rationale behind the policy: Limiting open buildings saves energy and reduces custodial, electrical, and operational costs for the College. But acknowledging these constraints should not mean ignoring the burden placed on students under the current system.
In practice, however, it creates a losing scenario for everyone involved.
The model asks roughly 300 students to pack up their rooms for potential use, while simultaneously requiring other students to temporarily occupy those same spaces. Students are asked to leave what has become their home – their safe space – for three weeks, trusting that strangers have prepared the room adequately for their arrival. This arrangement places temporary residents in an inherently uncomfortable position while offering little reassurance to those surrendering their space.
Residency is a right at the College — we all either pay for housing or have it covered through our financial aid. Residents deserve to have their needs met with clarity, efficiency, and empathy. It is time for Housing and the College to start treating it as a right, not a promise that is continually being broken.
Devlin Madden ’28 is from Taunton, MA.
