When I first applied to be a resident assistant (RA), I imagined Pinterest-worthy bulletin boards, cozy movie nights, and the occasional lockout or two. I told myself it would be the perfect blend of leadership, community, and a free single room; what could go wrong?
Spoiler alert: a lot.
Being an RA is one of those jobs people think they understand until they’ve lived it. From the outside, it appears to be a laid-back gig with a catchy title. But behind closed doors (and the hundreds of knocks on them), there’s a mix of chaos, responsibility, and emotional whiplash that nobody really talks about. And I have learned that the hard way.
What people don’t tell you is that being an RA is a “Crash Course” in adulthood, emphasis on the “Crash.”
It’s not just a job; it’s a lifestyle, one that’s equal parts rewarding and ridiculous.
The late nights.
Every RA has their horror story, and mine started with a knock at 3:15 AM.
If you’re an RA, you know the knock, those knocks. It’s the sound that instantly spikes your heart rate because it could mean anything: a homesick resident, a lockout, or someone crying in the hallway. My first night on duty — I learned very quickly that “sleep” is more of a suggestion than a guarantee. The sound of the duty phone ringing is ingrained into our brains, a form of PTSD, if you will.
There’s nothing quite like standing in a hallway, half-asleep, in pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, trying to sound professional while figuring out who set off the fire alarm this time, or how someone managed to lock themselves out of their room at 3 AM. And the best part? You still have to wake up early for class and pretend to be a functioning student the next morning, as if you didn’t just spend your night mediating chaos in your pajama pants.
The emotional labor nobody warns you about.
In training, they’ll teach you how to fill out an incident report, check smoke detectors, and decorate bulletin boards. What they won’t tell you is that you’re also signing up to be a part-time therapist, problem solver, and emotional support human.
Being an RA means you’re the person residents go to when they’ve fought with their roommate, failed an exam, or are just having the kind of night where everything feels heavy. You learn to mediate arguments, listen without judgment, and somehow come up with advice that sounds wise — even when you’re barely keeping your own life together.
You absorb a lot of emotions that aren’t yours, and sometimes that gets heavy. There are nights when you feel like you’re holding the entire building together with painter’s tape, caffeine, and sheer willpower.
It’s rewarding — yet it’s also a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up on paper.
The moments that make it worth it.
Here’s the part nobody sees — the good stuff.
It’s that one resident who finally opens up to you after weeks of awkward small talk. The laughter during your floor events when everyone actually shows up. The text from a resident who says they finally feel comfortable on campus. Those moments hit harder than the exhaustion ever could.
There’s something genuinely special about watching your floor go from a group of strangers to a community. It’s in the late-night chats in the hallway, the shared snacks during study breaks, and the tiny victories that remind you why you signed up for this in the first place.
The truth about “free housing”.
Yes, the housing is technically free. No, that doesn’t mean you’re off the clock. RAs, unfortunately, do not get to clock out because they live with your residents. You share common spaces, living rooms, bathrooms, laundry rooms, and kitchens. You are basically guaranteed to interact with your residents every day, and when they see you, it often goes beyond a friendly wave. A conversation can spark, questions are often asked, and smiles are shared.
Living where you work blurs every boundary. You can’t fully turn off “RA mode.” A knock on your door could be a friend or a resident with a crisis. You start to measure time in duty nights instead of weekends. Even your decor choices change, suddenly everything is “fire-safe” and “policy-approved.” The RA is often seen as the one who is supposed to know everything and be dependable, so as a result, you sometimes lose touch with what you were in college to do, and that’s to be a student.
I can definitely say that my job as an RA has quickly become a huge part of my personality; not a single day goes by that I am completely free from the job. Even if I take a weekend off to be back home, I still have residents DM me on GroupMe and ask questions that they have when I am out. Being an RA is an on-call job, and there is no time off; that is one of the most draining parts of the job.
What being an RA really teaches you.
It’s easy to joke about the job, and trust me, we do. But being an RA teaches you things no classroom ever could. You learn how to stay calm in chaos, how to communicate clearly, and how to be empathetic without losing yourself in the process. You learn to set boundaries, stand your ground, and still show kindness when people least deserve it.
So no, being an RA isn’t all bulletin boards and free meal plans. It’s leadership in its most unfiltered form, equal parts exhausting, hilarious, and transformative.
At the end of the day, you’re not just “the rule enforcer” — you’re the person who helps someone feel seen, safe, and at home, even if it’s just for one chaotic semester
— and honestly? That’s worth every 3 AM knock.