Western Kentucky University - Talisman Yearbook (Bowling Green, KY)

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Sharon O'Hara stuck her head out the door of her Central Hall dormitory room, listened to the shrieks and giggles coming from the opposite end of the hall and con- templated going to tell the offenders to shut up for the third time that night. Meanwhile, across campus, Cindy Reinert as facing a similar problem at Bates- p 2 nannies noe e onace dormitory. She Discarded washrags litter the bathroom knocked on a door down from her own, and memories of last night’s water fight from which an unpleasant ordor was seeping, linger in the mind of the resident but there was no response. “I! know that girl is smoking marijuana assistant. Although he feels reluctant because we can smell it coming from her to reprimand friends in the dormitory, room pretty often,” she told her dorm di- : 2 - Z A rector the next day. ‘I’ve tried and tried university policy still prevails. In but I just can’t catch her at it.” reality, the resident assistant is... At Hugh Poland Hall for men, Carroll Wadlington, a senior resident assistant, was working behind the lobby desk when he glanced up in time to see a girl glide quickly past him and into the stairwell. Luckily he was able to catch her quickly before she reached her destination. Robert ‘Bo’ Greene at Douglas Keen Hall came in from a meeting and found stereos blaring on one end of his wing. He asked the music lovers to quiet down a bit, and soon the floor was reasonably quiet. These four people, as resident assistants (R.A.s) in dormitories across campus, have the responsibility of enforcing rules set down by Western Kentucky University’s Office of Student Affairs, yet all will tell you they feel they are caught in the middle between uni- versity policy and the approval of their friends. “| try to handle things pretty much on my own, but it’s extra hard to jump on my friends,” said Miss Reinert, a senior from PeeWee Valley who has been an RA. for two years. “The girl who is smoking (marijuana) is something different because she is breaking the law,” she said. “For something like that | have to go to the dorm director.” Wadlington, who is a junior from Eddy- ville and a senior R.A., which means he doesn't actually supervise a floor, said they use a system in the men’s dormitories called the instant report. “It's kind of a crutch or an easy way out because you don’t have to go to the guy yourself if he’s made an offense,’ Wadlington said. The complaint is filed directly with the dorm director. All The R.A.s said noise is the major problem with which they have to cope. “The rule says they have to be quiet at 7 p.m. but | give them a break,’” Wadlington said. ‘| start enforcing quiet hours at 10 p.m.” Miss O'Hara, a junior from Owensboro, said she thought a lot of her problem with noise stems from the fact that she has only been an R.A. for a year and she was friends with most of the residents before she be- came their R.A. “Now they just don’t seem to have any respect for me as their counselor,” she said. Another problem for the R.A.s is being required to enforce rules they do not neces- sarily agree with. Greene, a sophomore from Morganfield, said if it were left up to him he would take away the rule that says a resident cannot Zl Resident Assistants Profile Clockwise: Sharon O'Hara .. . Central Hall Cindy Reinert . . . Bates-Runner Carroll Wadlington . Hugh Poland Robert “Bo” Greene . . Keen Hall

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The back entrance of a residence on Chestnut Street occupied by Jay Weth- ington and Bobby Betler illustrates the upkeep problems off-campus housing can bring. The steps were recently in- stalled as a landlord improvement, ac- cording to the residents. Traditional Thanksgiving foods were concocted by residents of the third floor in McCormack Hall as 30 people cele- brated the holiday on Nov. 24 with a pot-luck dinner. Nancy Kesselring said she traditionally prepares sweet potatoes for the meal in the dormitory kitchen. he students began arriving in droves and they kept coming and coming... The dormitories filled quickly. Two individuals were assigned to a room. “No private rooms available” became a repeated phrase. A new dormitory had to be opened. Students were indignant all because of a new rule — something called ‘‘man- datory housing.” Western's campus became a sea of people involved in a com- mon college experience known as the ‘housing game.” Like any other game this one had its own set of rules. Rule number one stated simply all freshmen and sophomores must live in residence halls. If you play your cards right, you just might get a “full house.’ Western did. A few students thought it was a good ruling for freshmen but protested that the sophomores are getting a “bum deal.” ‘I think everyone should live in a dorm at least one year,” said Jackie Downing, a sophomore from Allensville. ‘Dorm life is a neat experience and students need that experience, but two years is asking more than a lot of students want to put forth,” she said. An important day in the lives of freshmen women was Oct. 31. That was the day the curfew ended. In compliance with federal Title IX guidelines, which state that institutions receiving federal aid, such as Western, ’. . . shall not, on the basis of sex, apply different rules or regulations, impose different fees or require- ments or other different services or benefits relating to hous- ing ...', women were no longer required to obtain parental con- sent for self-regulated hours. But what about dormitory life itself? Martha Owen, a senior from Hardinsburg, would have nothing to do with it. “I lived in a dorm one summer and couldn't stand it,” she said. ‘It was like living in a hotel.” Miss Owen said she disliked dormitory life so much she drove 140 miles to school and back home daily. Ronald Barger, a senior from Guston, said he didn’t mind the dormitory. “It’s here where my classes are,” he said. “I don't want to bother with an apartment. | can’t afford one,” he said. For those who outgrew rule number one or who chose to dis- regard it, another option was available. Rule number two states: if a student is a junior or senior, of if he can bypass the mandatory housing rule, he may live in an apartment. The quality of apartments ranged from less than desirable to decent dwellings. Scott Johnston, a senior from Louisville, has lived in his share of both types. “By the time | graduate I'll probably have lived in ten different places,” he said. ‘I’m tired of moving.” Finding a place to live may become even more complicated if the College Inn, a privately owned student residence hall at 1149 College St., is converted into a home for the elderly. A Memphis, Tenn. firm is negotiating for purchase of the College Inn with the intent of converting the complex into a low-income project for the elderly. No major decisions were made during the current aca- demic year, however. The major problem met by students wanting an apartment was the cost. Unless students had two or four roommates to share the rent, affording an apartment was almost impossible. Other students who needed a place to live were the married couples. They played the housing game, too, and lived by the “first come, first serve’’ rule. Western owns 39 units for married students, and they were all filled. Ninety-seven couples were put on a waiting list. Many couples applied early, and they still had to wait a long time. One family, Pam and Hearne Harralson, waited one and one-half years. Gr eg and Sherry Lewis waited one year. They said they like their home but feel improvements can be made. “We had to paint the inside ourselves. It was either that or let it look terrible,’ the Lewis’ said. The housing game had its share of winners and losers during the year. The university was a winner. It increased its housing budget. Freshmen and sophomores who disliked dormitory life were losers. They: had to obey the “mandatory housing” rule. Apartment dwellers were both winners and losers — winners if they found a cheap apartment, losers if the apartment was a ‘rat hole.’ Married students were winners if they applied early and they were losers if they were placed 97th on a waiting list. But it is often said it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. @ A sign posted at Bogle Trailer Park on Russellville Road indicates one of the rules for residents — no car washing. A spokes- man for the park estimated that 50 per cent of rental trailers are occupied by students. The trailers run about $225 per person for a two-bedroom trailer for one semester Utilizing a Honeywell Pentax Spotmatic F 35 millimeter camera with a 135 milli- meter telephoto lens, Steve Benson shot this self-portrait in his Barnes-Campbell dormitory room. Benson said photography is a hobby and he was preparing this picture on dormitory life for a personal portfolio 28) Housing

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4 il . [i MIDDLE PQs | have female visitors in the dorm. “I think col- lege students are adult enough to be respon- sible for their own actions,” Greene said. “Butsince it’s ajob | have to follow the rules.” Miss Reinert said she does not agree with the rule against drinking in the rooms, even though she realizes it is a state law and not just a university policy. ‘My parents instilled in me as | grew up that it is much better to drink in the privacy of my own home instead of being out on the highways somewhere,” she said. “And what is the dorm now be- sides my home?” The R.A.s said they felt they are under- paid for the amount of work they have to do. “We get paid $1.70 per hour for the hours we work the desk, but we're on call 24 hours per day,’ Waddlington said. ‘‘Ideally we should be paid two dollars per hour.” Miss Reinert said she was under the impression that private rooms would be available to R.A.s as sort of a fringe benefit, but the overcrowding of the dorms this year has made it impractical. Greene said he also thinks the private room is almost a necessity. “When in a private room you can counsel a person easier if he has a problem,” he said. “If an R.A. has a roommate you have to take into consideration it’s partly his room, too, and you don’t always have the liberty to talk to people.” The R.A.s insisted, however, all the things that happen to them are not bad, and they wanted to tell about some of the rewards of being an R.A. Miss Reinert said it was rewarding to her to be in a leadership capacity. “| was in- volved in a lot of things in high school, and being an R.A. is bringing back a part of my leadership capabilities that were missing my freshman year in college,” she said. “There was a freshman girl on my floor who was the only freshman among juniors and seniors and she was lonely,’ Miss O'Hara said. “She would just look out the window all the time, and she would avoid me like | was some sort of an ogre or something.” She said she made an attempt to draw the girl out one night during an open house, and the girl opened up, talked about herself and seemed much more happy and relaxed. “That was a reward — getting that girl to feel like a part of something,” Miss O'Hara said. “It just thrilled me to death.” Other rewards were not as complex. They mentioned favorably the pay for the job, which is approximately $80 per month, even though they said they are underpaid, the involvement with the dorm they might other- wise miss, and getting to meet many people both in the dorm and from other dorms. They said they attend periodical workshops for R.A.s on campus. Asked if they will consider taking the job again next year when the time comes to decide, all the R.A.s responded favorably. Greene said, “I'll say yes because | like the money, | like to be in charge of people and | like to have some authority. The only bad thing is that it cuts free time,” he said. Wadlington at first said he would probably be back, then he said, ‘| know | will be. The bad thing is a lot of residents don't realize you're a human, too,” he said. “You have to live up to a lot of expectation.” ry 2S) Resident Assistants Profile