During my five years living alongside 340 undergraduate students as a hall warden, I have become a firm believer that residential halls are powerful civic learning environments.
This realisation did not come immediately; if anything, I saw my role as strictly pastoral rather than having any connections to learning and teaching.
At first glance, the role of a warden has little to do with learning. The term, warden, is an outdated and often confusing title (we are in the process of changing it) to describe a staff member responsible for responding to high-level mental health and disciplinary matters and occasional residential life events.
I initially approached my role with misplaced enthusiasm, intervening in all manner of student conflicts, leaving little room for their own responsibility. Finding a middle ground between complete non-intervention and excessive control proved a real challenge.
Over time, I came to understand that effective support meant creating space for disagreement and face-to-face conflict resolution rather than solving problems on students’ behalf.
Too shy shy
When I first started, the complaints I received usually came because a student came to my front of house colleagues to alert them of their problem. Whereas now they arrive electronically through e-mail.
It makes sense. It’s easier, quicker and also means students who may not be around during my formal working hours can make me aware of any issues.
But sometimes the multiple reports I receive overnight detail seemingly minor problems like a roommate not turning off lights or leaving a window open.
I think the ease with which students can complain, especially virtually, prevents students from developing crucial conflict resolution skills. Part of living amongst other people is learning to address disagreements. It’s not easy and it’s certainly not comfortable, but it does help you grow as a person.
It forces you to connect with others you may not agree with – either because of various socio-economic backgrounds, religious views or with those who have different ideas of cleanliness from you.
I have witnessed meaningful connections form across religious and gender identities, and social classes within student halls. For example, the son of a billionaire bonding with a flatmate who had spent summers as an agricultural labourer in fields in Lincolnshire. Two people who likely would not have crossed paths if they had not chosen to study at the same university.
I’ve seen interfaith events attended by those with differing faiths or none at all leading to genuine friendships.
These interactions lack formal learning objectives or assessment metrics, yet provide education that our lecture halls struggle to deliver. Providing the literal space for students to meet helps them develop social capital they cannot necessarily get in a classroom.
Learning from home
As a sector, we could do more to analyse and report on the civic benefits offered by halls of residence, and we are beginning to do this work at LSE.
Most UK university halls operate under an outdated property management model, functioning more like luxury hotels than educational spaces. Some private accommodation companies have introduced luxury facilities where students from wealthy families isolate themselves in environments featuring swimming pools and designer furnishings. While aesthetically impressive, these spaces lack genuine community or learning opportunities.
These approaches miss a crucial opportunity. Residence halls are sites of learning graduate skills, just as much as the formal classroom. Future employers want complex problem-solving and collaboration skill but the added value of being able to resolve conflict well lies beyond career preparation.
Holding space
In my view, modern universities have moved away from an integrated educational vision, focusing primarily on specialised knowledge instead. This fragmentation leaves students ill-equipped to interrogate complex questions and self-discovery.
Part of this includes being able to navigate conflict constructively and understanding how to create community across differences.
Residence halls provide spaces where intellectual, ethical, social, and practical dimensions of education can be reintegrated. Abstract concepts from seminars become concrete realities when negotiating shared living. Moral and civic education requires practical engagement with substantive questions about the common good.
Living amongst peers is a way of acknowledging higher education as a collective endeavour rather than a timetable of classes and lectures.
Is this overthinking spaces that should prioritise fun and exploration? I don’t think so. Our halls of residence aren’t peripheral to education. Properly reconceived, they could become central to what makes university education distinctive and valuable as higher education confronts an uncertain future.
