Scaly college situations prepare us for real world

Thursday, April 11, 1996

From Dragon Ladies to lines, daily hassles can make students
stronger

It was the beginning of the school year when I first met the
person I will hereinafter refer to, rather affectionately, as the
"Dragon Lady." She was a fourth-year student, big, loud, demanding,
scary, intrinsically hard to get along with ­ the roommate
everyone has nightmares about before they start college. Well,
unfortunately for me, she was my roommate.

At first, I was terribly upset. What had I done to the housing
people to make them enact revenge against me? I certainly didn’t
want to live with the evil Dragon Lady for the rest of the year.
(And yes, I was sure she was evil.) But I knew I was
overreacting.

"Get a room change," my parents advised. But what if the Dragon
Lady was truly a nice person? What if I was doing us both a
disservice by taking into account all the stereotypes I had stored
up in my mind (which, I have to say, fit her quite nicely)?
Shouldn’t I get to know how she really was? Frankly, I was
confused. I felt like a fish on dry land: I flopped around and
floundered. Classes hadn’t even started yet, and already I had a
problem.

I quickly decided that I should try to make the situation work.
Besides, it wasn’t possible to get a room change before October.
Quite simply, I was stuck. Might as well not make a bad situation
worse, I thought. So, I tried to talk to the Dragon Lady. Really, I
did. (Of course she later denied that I ever said two words to her.
And with all the force of my youthful enthusiasm, I was actually
trying!) In any case, I began to realize that ­ disregarding
any and all stereotypes ­ this living situation just wasn’t
going to work. The Dragon Lady and I, we had a personality
conflict. Plain and simple.

Then, the yelling started. (You knew it had to get worse before
it could get better, right?) One day, when I innocently asked the
Dragon Lady when she was going to be finished with phone, she
actually yelled at me. I couldn’t believe it. And the yelling kept
on. It almost seemed that whenever I came into the room, she would
yell at me. By this time, I knew I needed a room change. I
desperately needed a room change. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t
October.

To make a long story short, after many tearful sessions with my
RA (that’s resident assistant, for those who don’t know), my
relationship with the Dragon Lady finally came to a close. I was
ecstatic. I called up all my friends and e-mailed everyone I could
think of to tell them the joyous news. I moved out and got along
quite fine with my new roommate. I barely ever think about the
Dragon Lady anymore.

Despite my happiness at leaving the Dragon Lady’s rather twisted
lair, I actually think I owe her a thank you. If she hadn’t stomped
into my life and assumed that making me miserable would be her sole
focus, I never would have known that I could deal with such
conflicts. Under the Dragon Lady’s tutelage, I learned how to cope
in a frightening situation, that I needed to speak up for myself
and that not everyone is going to help me.

Yes, when I eventually moved out, it was a triumph. It was my
triumph. Sure, I had some help from my parents. But you’ve got to
understand, I wasn’t even 18 yet. And I was definitely, irrevocably
homesick. What homesick 17-year-old do you know who isn’t going to
call up her parents in tears when faced with a yelling roommate?
(Wait ­ don’t answer that.) Even with help from my parents,
though, I followed procedure. I was the one dealing with the
housing staff and the residential-life staff. I did it myself.

Maybe getting out from under the Dragon Lady wasn’t that big of
a task in the overall scheme of things. Maybe the only person to
whom it made a real difference was me. Maybe I’m just making a big
deal out of it ­ and making this big deal unnecessarily. But
then again, for a self-admittedly shy, 17-year-old first-year
student, away from home for the first time, it took a great deal of
effort. I know I matured because of the situation.

If I had to deal with the situation now, I tell myself that
there would be a lot less awkward fumbling. The truth is that there
probably would be. But during your first time doing anything,
there’s always some awkward fumbling. None of us would have ever
learned to walk or talk or do anything without some awkward
fumbling.

OK, maybe I’m saying this in a kind of roundabout way, but I
became a stronger person from my dealings with the Dragon Lady. I
grew up. I learned something. Which brings me to my ultimate point:
roommates from hell, ambiguous professors, long lines to buy
textbooks, parking problems and all the other hassles of campus
life serve to make us stronger, to help us deal with the "real
world" that I’m told is out there.

I see college as a sort of training ground. Four (or however
many) years here, and you can deal with just about anything. Sure,
some have learned these lessons long before they ever step foot in
Westwood. But there are so many of us and so many things to
learn.

Still, I fervently hope that I never have to see Dragon Lady
again. And I hope that she doesn’t have a twin.

There’s only so much one person can take.

Kotadia is a first-year biology student. Her column runs on
alternate Fridays.

But during your first time doing anything, there’s always some
awkward fumbling. None of us would have ever learned to walk or
talk or do anything without some awkward fumbling.