Letter to Residents

Dear Residents,

Whatever time of the year it is, I hope you’re doing well. I know that it’s often unflattering to think of survival as an achievement, but I’d like you to recognize that it’s hard. Fall or Spring, through rain, sleet, snow, and (occasional) sunshine, the gorgeous gorges of Ithaca bring with water and ice their own turmoil. The fact that you’re here, reading this, is sort of an achievement in itself: you are here. Here, in itself, may not seem particularly pleasant to you; it isn’t meant to be that way. Regardless, though, the fact that your two legs occupy this space in front of this pinboard is a testament to something.

Whether you’re a freshman or a fossil, welcome to Clara Dickson Hall. I’m your Resident Advisor, Yash. This message serves no other purpose than to be here when you need it.

Whether you’re moving in, moving out, or simply moving by, I want you to know, first of all, that you’re doing well. You’re doing well regardless of whether you flunked Oceanography or got an A+ in a CHEM class; whether you lost your way to the Arts Quad or finally found Riley Robb; whether you had three meals today or are currently waiting for DoorDash. Your small victories, big failures, big victories, and small failures are all part of the constitution of who you are, but not its definition. Get this: when Ruth Bader Ginsburg was in her freshman year, she lived within a sixty-second sprint of where you are right now. And yet, come Slope Day, you are statistically guaranteed to come across a Ruth Bader GinsBORG. Personally, I sincerely doubt that she’d ever imagined in that first year that her name would adorn milk gallons for decades to come. I’d ask you not to discount that probability for yourself either.

Second of all, I should talk about a few of the reasons I’m the one writing this message. I do, of course, carry the honor of being your RA. Besides that, however, you should know that I’ve been through some of the same things you have. I’ve done badly on prelims—heck, I’ve flunked Oceanography in Fall 2024. I’ve had my challenges: I’ve summoned firetrucks and ambulances and police cars, I’ve gotten locked out in the snow wearing shorts and a t-shirt. All of that is alright. If I am to reflect on any of those experiences, I am grateful to have made it through all of that. I may not fully understand what you are going through right now, but I can appreciate and validate it. If nothing else, come and talk to me if you think it’ll help.

Finally, I should reiterate what it is that I can help with. I can talk you through a problem, give you advice, and call emergency services (or someone else) if necessary. I do need to summarize things for the sake of propriety, but you can trust that I will do my personal best to help you. If I cannot help you, I will find somebody who can. I have been where you are, and I want to leave behind a better Cornell than the one I discovered. Please don’t be afraid to become some small part of that.