Editor’s Note: This the second entry in a reoccurring series, “Diary of a Resident Assistant at Morehouse University. In this piece, Pendarvis Harshaw shares the trepidation of holding the first floor meeting at Drew Hall and the challenges of deciphering truth from lies among Drew Hall residents.

It was my first floor meeting of the year with the entire fifth floor. I was trying to get the young men to laugh and let their guards down. All these young men hailed from rough cities and came to Morehouse to study business. This is my first year on the business floor. Early in the week, I put in my Facebook status that I was feeling like Tone-Loc coaching the cast from Sun Set Park!

But just like Sunset Park, Coach Carter, and every other urban feel-good drama about basketball, the hardened exterior of students soon gave way to their inner light.

I shared the platform with new residents, allowing them to share their stories in three succinct sentences. Three sentences --- that’s it. This rule was quickly broken. What started as a brief bio session (eerily similar to the mandated School of Business introduction) quickly turned into resumes for athletic scholarships and street ball challenges.

“I’ve run track since the third grade,” said a resident.

“I’m 6’2 and 240 pounds,” said another resident, jokingly.

And then, serious as a heart attack, another tall, lanky, resident from the east coast stood up and said, “I cage fight.”

I was done. Tone-Loc in Sunset Park was now comedian Kat Williams in the HBO prison show, “OZ.” I kept cracking jokes in an attempt to lighten up the testosterone level and steer the conversation back on track.

My stern tone was in full effect when Graduate Assistant Nick Owen intervened to discuss the dorm council and how it relates to visitation rules. Visitation, the V-word, always piques peoples’ attention.

From that point forward, the meeting went relatively smooth. We took attendance and only two residents flew under the radar. I made a mental note to grill the absentees later. I had two thoughts on my mind: How am I going to create a cohesive community out of all of these colossal egos and how am I going to remember all these names?

No Snitching, Only Truth-Telling

It was Wednesday. We had a dorm safety meeting, and after the meeting, a group of young men from the floor conducted some shameless late night pranks. They got caught.

The penalty? Loss of visitation for the entire floor, unless someone would come forward and admit they committed the crime.

There would be no snitching because we don’t endorse it at Drew Hall. “Accountability,” on the other hand, is the big word on our floor. I stressed “accountability” to the residents as they approached me. They got the message.

On Thursday afternoon, there was a message on the Drew Hall Dry Erase Board requested all 5th floor residents to be in their rooms at 9:00 pm. The message also said, “No R.A.’s allowed.”

I happened to be in my room at 9:00 pm that day to watch the pre-season football game. I heard squabbling in the hallway. I listened as the loud chatter soon turned to laughter. Then at once, the crowd was gone.

I got a phone call less than five minutes later from a co-R.A.  “Your floor is in the lobby and the guys want to see you,” he said.

I came downstairs and a few chosen spokesmen gave me a deal I couldn’t refuse: they were willing to admit who committed the crime.

“Who,” I asked.

Fifty hands were raised in response. We all did it,” they said. And they laughed, all of them. With their hands elevated, the laughter turned into the “penthouse” chant.

I fell back laughing. At least, now, I’d seen solidarity among the young men on the fifth floor. The community would develop, leaders would emerge, and this year was certainly going to be interesting! Now I all I have to do is learn everyone’s name.

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