Due to some sort of continuing mix-up in one of Tufts' acronymed agencies, I didn't get paid last week for my on-campus job. Considering this was only going to be my third weekly check in six weeks of work, I wasn't surprised at the incompetence. I was, however, surprised that I was never told that I wouldn't be paid last week.
Unaware of my empty bank account, I kept spending as if I'd received my direct deposit until my bank told me I owed $120 in overdraft fees and NStar told me my utilities check had bounced. Whoops. I needed money, and fast, so I signed up to drive EPIIC panelists to and from the airport.
Driving to the airport was fun. After all, my dream fallback job in case college didn't work out has always been chauffeuring some wealthy client in a luxury car. In this case, I got to chauffeur really smart people in a Kia, which is close enough for me. I drove, and a helper sat in the passenger seat in order to assist the panelists with their luggage.
On one trip, a panelist asked if both of us lived in dorms. I answered, as I always do, "Tufts doesn't have enough housing for all their students so I live in an off-campus apartment." As if haunted by the spirit of Hosea Ballou, my fellow classmate interrupted me to say that, "no, some students prefer to live off campus."
Huh? The denial of one of the biggest drawbacks to student life at Tufts has always puzzled me. I remember the first time I heard of the housing shortage, and of course it came well after I'd agreed to come here. My parents had gone to an event at April Open House at which another parent had asked about housing guarantees. The answer from the Tufts representative? "We guarantee housing for freshman and sophomores. Most juniors go abroad, and juniors and seniors with good enough housing lottery numbers get to live on campus."
My parents and I realized that a housing shortage on campus must be the reason why there are so many dilapidated Philly Victorians and triple-deckers peppering neighborhoods along the Medford-Somerville line. Was this destined to be my fate if I went to Tufts?
Turns out, yes. The housing crunch affected me before I even got onto campus. I came home from work one day the summer before my freshman year and my mother was holding a letter from Tufts. "You're in a forced triple, with two roommates," she said. I suddenly wondered if it was too late to re-apply to Brown.
On the first day of school, I moved into a Hill Hall cell with two strangers. Shortly after we figured out how to arrange the beds so that nobody had to sleep in a bunk, Administrator Extraordinaire Lorraine Toppi came by to tell us that first, we would hate living in a triple; second, the three of us would soon hate each other; and third, we would receive no financial compensation for our cramped quarters because, and this is a quote, "Who needs money?"
She was faced with icy glares from the three students and our parents. Only the third promise came true. Those two roommates became my best friends and housemates to this day.
My junior year housing lottery number was lower than my current bank balance, so my friends and I moved into a drafty 86-year-old house that is sagging so much in its foundation that the front door is cut on an angle. The heat works intermittently, the wiring isn't up to code, the ceiling leaks, the horsehair plaster is cracked, and more than one "wall" is made of papered-over plywood.
The upside of not living on campus is that we've all gained a lot of real-world experience that students at colleges with fewer homeless students do not have. For example, in the two years I've lived here, I learned how to do some painting, flooring, minor carpentry and electrical work. I've installed a light fixture, laid linoleum, painted the bathroom, fixed a hot water heater, set up an internet router, fought parking tickets, arranged a mattress delivery, shoveled snow, budgeted for utilities, bought my own toilet paper and talked with neighbors - all experiences that most students at other top schools need to wait for until after college. Even then, most of them hire someone else to do the work.
I propose that instead of putting the usual party-line, North Korean newscaster spin on the dreaded junior year homelessness ("All juniors have been happily relocated abroad! Those who chose to stay exercised their free will and moved off campus!"), Tufts needs to embrace the off-campus experience. It's a step towards both personal independence and community formation, and it certainly builds character.
Tell the truth about off-campus living. Yes, utilities are expensive. Yes, you have to pay for a full 12 months unless you find a subletter. Groceries can cost a lot of money. Even free furniture has to be moved. Insuring your car in Somerville can double your premium. But even if you aren't spending your junior year abroad, you can get a whole other life experience in college once you move out of a dorm.
And since I doubt that I'll be paid for driving that van until well after spring break, I was wondering if any of my loyal readers would care to loan me enough money to buy an Italian sub at Nick's. I'm very hungry, and I doubt my oven is working.
