Love, Not Duty

I never really used the word "duty" before becoming an RA. Although I rather enjoy following the rules, I am not afraid to press the status quo if I feel uncomfortable in a situation. Most often, I will follow the rules until I decide the rules are useless (somewhere, an ethics philosopher just rolled over in their grave). In this sense of the word, I am not duty-bound; I do not find myself motivated by moral or legal responsibility.

When I became an RA, the word "duty" was everywhere. First, there are nights when I am "on duty" - on call in case of emergencies. Then, there are the duties of an RA - planning engagements for residents, fielding endless questions, navigating roommate conflicts. Finally, there are hidden duties trapped in the job. In training, we call it the "fishbowl life." Even when I am off duty, residents look to me for guidance and example, whether I like it or not.

As I was gearing up for my third year as an RA, I was dreading returning to this sense of duty. Last year, it took a heavy toll on me. Amidst all these responsibilities, I often forget my own duty to myself. So, over these past three weeks of RA training, I have been working on renewing my sense of duty for myself. I have been saying yes to social gatherings and new experiences because I owe it to myself to try new things.

Judy Scalin, the Associate Dean of the College of Communication and Fine Arts at LMU, stepped down in the spring, after offering over 40 years of teaching and administration to the Dance program at LMU. Even though she is retired, Judy emailed me this week to make sure I was on track to graduate in the spring. I thanked her profusely in my reply, and she responded with a quote I will never forget:

"This is an act of love not an act of duty."

There's that darn word again. 

This got me thinking, what if I treated everything as an act of love and not duty? It sounds a bit lofty, but I really think it is far more simple at second glance. I have been testing it out for a week or so (not long, I know), but I really feel a change in my mindset.

Last week, I had the opportunity to show some family friends looking at colleges around campus, and I just enjoyed seeing my university from the perspective of an 18-year-old again. I'm proud to say I have finally been inside the film building.

I wanted to get my LMU ID card a new, updated photo because I look nothing like I did during my first year of college. This usually costs $20, but I was patient when the printing machine broke, and the employee gave me a new card for free.

Later, I talked to an LMU alumni from the 70s who was randomly visiting campus, and she wanted to know what all the new buildings are named. When she asked me what my major was, she gave me a high five for doing what I love. That's the best response to anyone hearing I am a Dance major that I have ever experienced.

While it is relatively easy for me to take a deep breath and love my life here at LMU, it can be really difficult to love my job as an RA. Everything feels like a duty. I am working toward approaching this job with the same love and ease I give the other parts of my life. Treating being an RA as an act of love gives me the freedom to invest parts of myself in my residents' lives, while also taking care of my own life. Then, the duties seem far less.

Before coming back to LA, I made a commitment to saying yes this year - to opportunities, people, adventures - even and especially when I am nervous or uncomfortable. I have been unapologetically (and perhaps obnoxiously) myself over the past three weeks of RA training. In response, my staff has welcomed me with open arms.

After reflecting on this love and duty conundrum, I think my senior year resolution is to say yes to love, in all its forms. Let's see where it takes me.