It seems like every few days, a fire alarm goes off somewhere on the Brandeis campus. Everyone leaves their rooms: the first-years rush out with an urgency that makes the firefighters proud, the seniors take their time. Perhaps this is your first time seeing all of your neighbors in the same place, or perhaps you live in Skyline Residence Hall and this is your third alarm of the week. It’s an inconvenience, to be sure, but the event of standing outside, partially dressed, with your neighbors all complaining in unison is perhaps one of the greatest experiences that living in a dorm has to offer.

I won’t pretend it’s not a nuisance to have to wake up at odd hours of the night, scramble to put on outerwear and go outside during a frigid Boston winter just for the firefighters, donning warm layers of uniform, to take their sweet time surveilling the building and deactivating the alarm. It’s unpleasant. But there’s never been a stronger sense of unity on the Brandeis campus than during a fire alarm. People are prompted to speak to their neighbors: “What’s taking them so long?” “There’s no fire, this is ridiculous,” “I want to go to bed,” and similar comments are echoed in a sleepy chorus. Perhaps it prompts an adventure: after getting kicked out of your dorm, you make a trip to go study in the Shapiro Campus Center or see your friends in the library. A fire alarm could help you see your friend’s interior design skills if you choose to take refuge in another dorm. Moments of mild, low-stakes crisis are the most effective for community-building. 

The humble fire alarm provides a built-in socializing break for countless students cramming for an exam or developing a headache over an essay. It’s comedic relief in times of stress. You sit in your room, feeling as if your academic career has come to an end because you’ve forgotten how to write an introduction, when your downward spiral is interrupted by the loudest noise you’ve ever heard and you move through the hallway with your peers like fatigued wildebeests in a stampede. Once outside, you’re greeted by a treasure trove of material for your anthropological study of Brandeis students — which I encourage everyone to begin during their time here. You’re presented with men wearing their girlfriends’ jackets, women wearing their boyfriends’ pants, the shortest shorts you’ve ever seen, a Victorian nightgown and your teaching assistant wearing matching anime pajamas. You see the sides of people you would’ve never seen without that lucky fire alarm. The strangers around you are thus humanized and given depth, making you likely to act more neighborly, or even to befriend your fellow sufferers. Take advantage of this opportunity. Learn more about your community, whether socially or scientifically, and make the most of your time within Brandeis’ unique social atmosphere. I hope that next time you’re nearly made deaf by the sirens, you find joy and value in the experience of the humble fire alarm.