The Last Door I Locked as an RA

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The last time I locked a door as a resident assistant at the University of Tampa, I stood there with my keys in my hand and looked back down the hall. I’d already graduated. My family had gone home. I’d been commissioned as an Army officer. And somehow, standing in that quiet hallway was when it really sank in that college was over.

A job I knew by heart

Being a resident assistant was my first real job at the University of Tampa. I got it before I got a work-study job, and I started as a sophomore. So for three of my four years in college, being an RA was part of my everyday life.


By senior year, I knew the routine cold. My friend Ginger and I had been RA partners all three years. We did our weekly rounds together. I knew how to set up the bulletin board so people could find out what was going on. I knew how to plan a program, welcome students when they moved in, and check their rooms when they moved out. I knew where to look for damaged furniture and where somebody might have left something behind.

Most years, I wanted to get through checkout as fast as I could. I might be trying to catch a bus or get out of there to see a friend. As long as the hall director was satisfied that I’d done everything I needed to do, I was ready to go.

That last weekend, I took my time.

When the floor went quiet

I graduated on Saturday. The residents had until noon Sunday to move out, and I had until noon Monday. Even after the ceremony and the goodbyes with my family, I still had students to check out.




Some of the people on my floor were seniors, too. I knew them from seeing them around and being responsible for the floor. We had our own circles. As I went from room to room, it hit me that this ordinary conversation about moving out might be the last time I’d ever talk to each of them. You can see people all the time for a year and still have no reason to expect your paths to cross again.

After the last resident left, I stood out on the balcony and took in how quiet it was. Then I went through the rooms with my keys and my inventory sheets. I’d saved the rooms of the students who’d left early so I could do them all in one pass. There were about six rooms besides mine. In each one, I checked the inventory, looked for damage, pulled the door shut, and locked it.

When I got to that last room, I looked down the hall at the doors I’d already locked. I knew this routine so well I could hurry through it. That day, I wanted a little more time with it. It had taken me three years to get that comfortable doing the job, and I was going to miss knowing exactly what to do next.

I’d already walked across the stage. Locking that last door was how I finished my last responsibility as an undergraduate. By noon Monday, I’d be the one moving out.

If you’re thinking about what comes after graduation, explore this week’s featured e-book, My First Year After College. https://mynameisreeves-shop.fourthwall.com/products/lost-broke-and-figuring-it-out-my-first-year-after-college 

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