Straight from the Notre Dame website: “We will not honor requests for special housing arrangements unless there is a medical need that requires an accommodation. Incoming first-year room assignments are randomly generated by computer. The process helps to accomplish social and geographic diversification within all the residence halls.”
Computer-generated, huh? Some of you may be reading this “randomly generated by computer” line and thinking, yes, there is no doubt your rooming assignment was random freshmen year—you and your roomie were as diametrically opposed as __. Others of you may look at this and be convinced your room assignment wasn’t random—it was written in the stars that you’d end up together. Still others may look at this with doleful eyes and reminiscence and say, yes, indeed it was random, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
So, the question: are rooming assignments really random? You can listen to the website, have that blind belief, if you’d like. But I’d have to venture “no.”
First off, Notre Dame explicitly mentions in its reasoning that “the process helps to accomplish social and geographical diversification within all the residence halls.”
In some cases with roommates, that can be very easy to see. Your roommate went to a public high school; you went to a private one. You grew up in suburbia; your roommate grew up in the metropolis. One theory is that the contrasts here are put in place on purpose.
You can almost picture it, right? The two admissions officials chatting over a cup of coffee, various accepted applicants’ files sprawled out before them: “Hmm, it could be cool for this guy from Colorado to get to know this other guy who grew up in New Jersey.” Or maybe they devise to pair up a varsity tennis star with the girl who was the lead in her high school musical two years in a row. I would guess things get a little tricky in the admissions department, though, when dealing with sports rivalries. “A Patriots fan paired with a Bills fan?” One would say to the other, wincing. “You sure about this?”
Another theory, though—one I’d personally love to believe is true— is that we are each assigned to each other because we have exactly one thing, one not-so-obvious thing, perfectly in common with other, and the secret mission assigned to us is to find that thing.
Back to the imagery of the admissions officials, coffee still being sipped, papers still out in front of them. For a whole day, imagine them sitting across from each other, searching tirelessly through the applicants’ information, to make this comprehensive search. What do these two files—these data-filled files of test scores, extracurriculars, recommendations, essays, and supplements they’ve been handed– have in common? Well, they all made it in. To be sure, the test scores are all in a certain range, the extracurriculars of each file are large in number, and the essays are all profound representations of self.
With all the items on there, the sheer number of different credentials, I reason, there has to be one in common. It could be the admission officials cheering, “Ooh, look, he was always a lawyer on Mock Trial in high school and so was he!” Or maybe it’s more like “Look, she got a perfect score on the SAT Math and so did she! Hashtag perfect roommates!” In essence, I’m saying that it’s some element, not as obvious and easily discoverable as both being from a Chicago suburb, but also not as menial and mundane as both having two aunts named Sue, that I think is purposely identified and left aside as “admissions’ little secret” that we have to find out.
As with any argument or presidential election or story (or even any triangle or polygonal shape), there are always more than two sides. For the “roommates aren’t random” claim, too, there are more than two ways to theorize. What if, for example, the admissions office sent pictures of all the committed students to a local elementary school and let the toddlers decide who goes together? Can you picture that one: the children huddling around a computer, deciding that the girl with the pink headband should go with the girl with the blue bow in her hair, or that the guy who looks like Shaggy from Scooby Doo should room with the guy who looks like Captain America. Or how about this one: they copy and paste each and every committed student’s main essay into a Wordle, and then if the largest word matches, then it’s a roommate match.
I’m a believer in things happening for a reason, in circumstances arising as such to teach us something. And frankly I think Notre Dame is too. Even if we do have to throw aside these outlandish ideas and settle for the assignments being computer generated, are the assignments still even random? It is Notre Dame after all—there has to be some God factor.
In the spirit of not random roommates, I challenge all who read this to reach out to your freshman year roomie today. Say hi. Say thanks. And take a moment to recognize all you have learned from her. Because, hey, if you got to choose your roommate, you may have never got to know this special person in your life. That’s the beauty of Notre Dame our mother.
Shoutout to my freshmen roomie Maria Sasso (see below)! She rocks!
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Images: 1 (provided by author), 2, 3 (provided by author)