The devil’s in the details

By now, it should surprise no one that I’m not the biggest fan of the new house model. Since I first began writing about the new housing system last semester, I’ve generally been of the opinion that the biggest problem is not the concept itself, but its execution. What started out as a way to promote equality and provide consistency in housing for all students has devolved into a system that hurts affiliated and non-affiliated students alike. By reducing the blocking size, randomly assigning independents to their houses and relegating selective living groups to the least desirable locations, it seems as if the administrators were only trying to make their lives easier. In some strange way, accepting the house model is much less painful if you tell yourself that Joe Gonzales and his cronies must know that what they are doing doesn’t make sense. Sure, it sucks that we’re getting screwed, but at least someone’s job is less stressful, right?

Apparently, though, I was giving Joe undue credit for his craftiness. The more time I spend around House Model Committee members and resident coordinators trying to iron out the details of this mess, the more I realize that they’re losing hair over this, too. The sheer amount of effort and money that has been put into reconfiguring dorms to satisfy various housing systems is mind-boggling. When Duke switched over from the original house model to the quad model, they had to tear down numerous walls that had been erected to delineate house boundaries. As we transition to the house model reincarnate, rebuilding walls will only be the beginning.

I can speak from experience. During last semester’s house model lottery, my fraternity drew a section on West that currently does not have a common room. In order to create a space large enough to serve as a common room for a medium-sized selective living group, Housing, Dining and Residence Life will have to spend the summer tearing out a spiral staircase that currently leads to another “house,” knocking down walls that were not intended to be temporary. Furthermore, the current layout separates three dorm rooms from the rest of our house by a card-reader door. That means the students in these rooms would not be able to visit the common room or any other dorm rooms without “swiping into” section, even though they never left it in the first place. While discussing this with HDRL Assistant Dean Deb LoBiondo, she mentioned that relocating one card-reader door could cost around $10,000.

That’s $10,000 for one door, not to mention all of the other houses that need common rooms or all of the modifications that are required on Central Campus. To make matters worse, Craven, Crowell and most of Central Campus are still awaiting the massive renovations that Kilgo and Few recently received. So in a few years, that common room that Dean Deb is slaving over is going to be gutted anyway. I feel like a Congressional Republican crying wasteful spending.

The disaster that is the house model used to get me fired up, but now the time and money Duke spends constantly “reimagining residential life” just depresses me. Universities like Yale, whose residential colleges initially inspired the house model, have had the same housing system for over 100 years. At Duke, our housing system seems to change every decade. I wonder why this new model should be any more successful than the previous rejects.

I’m of the opinion that if we spent more time thinking about the consequences and financial implications of our actions, we might not regret so many of them. Every time I talk to an administrator or read a quote in The Chronicle about the house model, there is an allusion to all of the “remaining unanswered questions.” Most of these questions—like dealing with students returning from abroad, the rules governing the quota system or the new Residential Group Assessment Committee (RGAC) requirements—aren’t exactly minor issues. It blows my mind that Duke can approve such significant changes without considering the details. To use an analogy, you wouldn’t drive a car off the assembly line without installing the brakes first.

This is an issue that extends far beyond residential life. For instance, had the administrators consulted the faculty more extensively or taken the time to determine a reasonable estimate for the cost of building a university in China before we actually decided to build it, we probably wouldn’t be in the mess that is Duke Kunshan University. It’s never a good idea to leap before you look, and it won’t be long before careless decisions begin to burn the people who let them happen.

Here’s how I see it: A door might cost $10,000, but reckless decision-making is priceless.