When I started college about 30 years ago, I moved into a dormitory at a university in Chicago. I didn’t get to choose either my dorm or my roommate – both decisions were made by the school. My roomie was a country boy from western Illinois whose family grew corn. I was a city kid who had never met anyone with a rural background.
Across the hall was a 24-year-old who had just gotten out of the Marine Corps. Two doors down was a guy who was bisexual. There was a pre-med student who, astonishingly, liked to use heroin, but only once a year at Christmas break. And there was the acoustic guitarist who played Kermit the Frog’s “Rainbow Connection” at every opportunity, making all of us dream about busting up his guitar on the stairs, like John Belushi in Animal House.
Even though we were all very different, we hung out together, went to the cafeteria and ate together, played intramural sports, shared the same bathroom, and talked and listened to music to the wee hours. It wasn’t that we all became great friends; it was more about learning about how people from different backgrounds and interests could get along.
I thought about how much I learned about people and myself from my college dorm days when I read in the past few weeks about Texas Christian University’s policy allowing students with similar interests to live together in dorms. The policy drew national headlines when the school announced the formation of DiverCity Q, a program that would provide designated campus housing for gay, lesbian, and transgender students next year.
TCU calls these special-interest housing programs Living Learning Communities (LLCs). The gay/lesbian/transgender LLC would join existing special-interest dorms for those interested in environmental concerns, international languages, or something called “Leadership and Strengths.”
Along with the DiverCity Q dorm, TCU was also planning next year to roll out LLCs focusing on “Christian Perspectives” and one devoted to “Patriotism.” Someone will have to inform me how one qualifies as a college patriot.
Bowing to the pressure from alumni and a host of others, however, TCU Chancellor Victor Boschini Jr. last week announced that the school had canceled plans for next year’s new LLCs and instead is creating a committee to come up with better guidelines for the set-aside housing.
Many of those who objected to the DiverCity Q dorm claimed that supporting gays with their own housing unit would go against TCU’s Christian affiliation. I have a different reason for opposing it. While the gay community has been working so hard for full inclusion within our society – everything from gay marriage to the inclusion of partners in employee benefit packages – separating themselves does not support that agenda. In fact, such separate quarters undermine the educational mission of colleges and universities.
The lessons students learn outside the classroom in the college environment is as important as earning a degree. My daughter is now a freshman at Texas State University, and our conversations have been indicative of this. She’s having fun meeting all kinds of people and likes the fact that college life is less about the cliques she experienced in high school. She has frequently pointed out that she can now be who she wants to be, without the peer pressure that comes from being around the same types of people every day.
What TCU and the other universities should be doing is mixing up all the groups. People divide themselves up into safe little groups soon enough. A policy that helps them do that during the crucial years of college is just stupid.
I learned a lot in my college dorm. I’d always thought that anyone who spoke with a rural twang was somewhat of a nitwit, but my roommate proved me wrong. The ex-Marine taught me that discipline was a good thing to have when applied to studying – as well as partying. The bi guy became a good friend, and I learned that what people did in their sexual lives had little bearing on intelligent conversations and common social interests.
One more thing I learned. Women clearly liked my dorm neighbor’s rendition of “The Rainbow Connection” a lot better than they did the punk music I played so loud. So instead of bashing his guitar, I sometimes sang along, if there were lots of young women listening. You know, showing my sensitive side. Does TCU have a dorm for that?
