Why I do my job

As a Hall Advisor there are many days I think "Really? Why do I do this to myself?" Cleaning checks, behavioral issues, pranks and so many other things can raise that question quickly. But the days when I think "This is why I love my job" come around much more. Some of those may include one of my Resident Assistants telling me how they connected to a resident for the first time, a letter from a past resident on a mission thanking me for being patient with him, or just staff meetings with a lot of laughing and story sharing. I had one of those moments this past weekend. Let me share it with you, if I may.

When I first started this position I came from a previous job at a residential treatment center for teenage girls. I had to be pretty tough and pretty stone faced when working with them. We weren't to tell them too much personal information, get emotional or show fear. I listened to more backgrounds that were not just horror stories but real life events that could last me a lifetime. There were times I would physically be holding a girl down to the ground while she attempted to pull her own hair out or hurt herself but ended up kicking me in the face and tearing at my arms and I could not show her I was angry or even terrified. So when I got into this job I was pretty strict and quick to hold residents accountable. I have not changed the fact that my kids need to keep the rules and be accountable but I go about it all differently now. I get to know them, talk with them, laugh with them, validate their emotions and let them tell me what they were thinking or going through before calling them out. But that first year, oh boy would I do things different.

The funny thing is, I had the rowdiest group of boys in one of my halls that I have ever had and I was brand new. Baptism by fire. There were two apartments in particular that pulled more pranks, pushed the line more and questioned more than anyone I have worked with. It was good for me and I learned a lot. But I was a rookie HA straight out of a treatment center environment. I did not know how to reach them. By the end of the year we had a mutual respect for one another and I felt like they didn't hate me. But I never knew. I wondered if I was too hard, or if there was more I could have done to let them know I truly cared about them and not the "rules" at BYU. They always talked about having a reunion on 10-10-10. I did not think I would still be here but two weeks ago I looked at the dates coming up and I thought "Oh boy...they might be coming back." Would missions, life, college or marriage have changed them? Would my tires be slashed? Did I want to even say hello? Of course I did but did they want to see me?

Sunday night I heard a small group outside my apartment in the lobby and knew those voices from 3 years ago oh so well. I walked out, smiled and said "What do you think you are doing here?" in a teasing voice. They turned, smiled and all of them in unison said "JACQUE!" One by one they hugged me and I remembered each of their names. I asked what they had been up to the last few years, they asked how I had been and all about Shortstop, we shared memories, they confessed other pranks I never knew about, we laughed and took pictures. And one by one they said "We are so sorry for what we put you through. Thanks for not hating us." 45 minutes went by and I left them to their apartment reunion. They once again said thank you and yelled out "You're the best Hall Advisor we ever had!" (Of course I was the only one, but I'll take it.) I walked into my apartment and with a huge smile and even tears in my eyes I said to Mark, "And this is why we live in a tiny apartment and why I am okay with cinderblock walls and doing cleaning checks each month." A weight was lifted. I was not as bad as I thought I was. They knew everything I did was for their benefit and although at the time they didn't get it, years later, they knew that. They changed the way I do my job and I am better because of them. I hope they can say the same about me.