Being a Resident Assistant is a prevalent position on college campuses. Pretty much every student has been under the care of an RA. But there are many things that we, as RAs, are not trained for and sometimes we have no idea what we got ourselves into. Here are things that I have learned in my first year as an RA.

1. Door decs and bulletin boards are a thankless job.

You know those cute little cutouts that show up on your door magically and call you by name? Those are door decs and they are awful to make. It is a tedious task to pick something and then make 50+ of them. You try and make sure that each door has different colors or designs, that no two residents blatantly seem the same. You pull up your register because the worst thing you could possibly do is misspell a name. You hurry, usually late at night, to place these on doors. You want it to be a surprise. The novelty of a new door dec will wear away if they see you putting them up, you tell yourself. However, you are going to put up one decoration each month for five months before someone asks you "Wow, do we get these every month?" or "Is this part of your job?" And you will secretly get offended that they have not noticed your hours of free time manifested on their door. But when you have a resident move and see them put their door decs on a new door, you feel a tiny sense of accomplishment. This is a small happiness and for the most part, door decs suck.

2. Incidents freak us out.

We are trained to deal with a wide range of incidents, from a silly roommate squabble to suicidal ideation. And yet, each time I get a call, I freak out. I feel like an impostor when I have to stand at a door and ask everyone to step outside and explain to me what the problem is. Being able to call my supervisor is little comfort. RAs want you to be comfortable and okay. It is quite literally the whole purpose of our job. But when I have to do a roommate mediation, for example, I am scared that the wrong words will come out of my mouth and both residents will begin screaming in my direction instead. And don't get me started on having to call the cops; that's the worst.

3. No one will come to your program, 90 percent of the time.

This is a pretty well-known fact in the housing community and yet, we are required to plan them anyway. We plan movie nights, cookie decorating, Valentine's decorating. And very few residents, if any, show up. And sometimes, it gets really discouraging. Programs are the one part of my job that frequently begs the question, "What is the point?" But I know what the point is: to foster a community. We want to make each building a home for the people who live there. Once, in training, my staff agreed that we wanted our building to be a place where our residents wanted to spend time, not just rest their heads at night. And programs are our best way to do that. Of course, it would be nice if the whole building came, but that is hardly feasible or likely. So you walk into program planning knowing that you won't get a mind-boggling turnout, but you can make it count for those who do come.

4. We feel like your parents.

Being an RA, personally, brought on this maternal sense between myself and my residents. I have 46 women who live on my hall and they are the light of my life (see, I'm talking like a mom already). To add to the fact that I want to protect them and see them happy, my residents call me "Mom", in texts, on campus, in front of their actual parents. My residents feel something like my children. I want to throw a party when they ace a test or get a new job. I want to cry when they get all dressed up for formal. I want to kick every person in the throat who hurts them. I am Mom and they are my babies.

5. This is the hardest, craziest, and best job a college kid could ask for.

I love my job. I get to help people, be a listening ear, shower my residents with love and support. I didn't have that when I started college and to give that back to others is the most satisfying use of my time. The lack of balance that comes with living where you work, the paperwork, the meetings, the failed programs: it is all worth it when just one person says "You are the best RA I have ever had" or when I hear a resident tell a friend as they walk away that I am their RA and they love me. Recently, women who don't live on my floor, but know my residents will say "Oh they all love you so much; they talk about you all the time." Those moments make this all worth it.

So, be nice to your RA. Go to programs, acknowledge door decs, just say hi in the elevator. We are people, too, and we are trying to do the best we can for you all. We love you and think you are worth our blood, sweat, and tears.