Program housing applications for the Fall 2023 semester are due today, Friday, April 6, at 12:00 p.m. As a proud member of Outhouse—a program house that serves as headquarters of the Wesleyan Outing Club and ground zero for all things outdoorsy on campus—my next weekend will be spent alongside my 10 housemates, reading through applications and selecting the next cohort of students to live in our beautiful home. For me, this prospect is simultaneously exciting and devastating. I can’t wait to welcome a new generation of students into Outhouse, but whenever I start to think about leaving, I have a sudden urge to buy a pint of ice cream, bury myself under the blankets in our living room, and cry. By the end of this semester, I’ll have spent nine months living in Outhouse at 132 High Street, and it won’t have nearly been enough.
Three years ago, when I was a prospective student first researching Wesleyan student life, the program housing system stuck with me as one of the most impressive and exciting things about the school. I liked the idea of living closely with a group of other young people; I had this marvelous picture in my head of a makeshift family, all with different backgrounds and interests, but held together in some magical space by love and trust. I saw myself and my imaginary housemates cooking dinner together, dancing in the kitchen, throwing surprise birthday parties, staying up into the early morning hours to strum guitar, talk about our mothers, and look deeply into each other’s eyes. It was a little personal joke, a total fantasy. But then I ended up matriculating at Wesleyan. And at the end of my freshman year, I applied to program housing. Suddenly, there they were, a group of people I had never met, playing guitar around the kitchen table in the glowing evening light and fulfilling all of my wildest dreams.
I really cannot overstate the value of communal living in the context of a liberal arts education. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no better way to learn about yourself or the world. Coming away from my experience at Outhouse, I feel more positive, more independent, more self-assured, more empathetic, and more connected to Wesleyan as a whole. I have new friendships that I’m sure will stick around for a long, long time. Sometimes I wonder if I just got lucky––if the stars magically aligned to bring my housemates together at this place and time—but I don’t think so. Program housing attracts people who want to build a strong community. So when they come together, what happens? They do the dishes. They tell stories. They make each other laugh. Steadily and powerfully, they build that strong community; they teach each other how to love and be loved by strangers.
Looking toward the end of this year, I’m feeling all those awful and beautiful feelings that come with leaving things behind: gratitude for what I’ve had, confusion at how quickly the time has passed, anger at the fact that it has to end. The majority of my housemates have chosen to stay together for another year, but I won’t be living in Outhouse again anytime soon–in fact, I won’t be on campus at all. Come September, I’ll be studying abroad in Granada, Spain. The current plan when I return next January is to move back in, switching places with one of my housemates studying abroad in the spring, but there’s no guarantee that everything will work out. So for now, I have to say at least a semi-permanent goodbye.
As I get further into my twenties, I think a lot about the ever-present processes of moving and removing that seem to characterize my life. I’m always starting and restarting, never anywhere long enough to truly call it home. But I suppose that’s also what makes places like Outhouse shine so brightly for me: because they can’t last, I end up giving them the value they deserve. I try to be thankful.
To prospective students and rising sophomores: don’t miss out. Program housing is a weird and beautiful thing—for me, it has been maybe the best thing about this funny corner of Connecticut that we call home.
Sophie Jager can be reached at sjager@wesleyan.edu.