Editor’s Note: Two readers contacted The Purple to raise concerns about the headline of this article. In response, we removed the word “Homelessness” from the headline, agreeing with the readers’ concern that former Johnson residents were not left without housing. Though concern was also raised about the word “refugees,” that term remains because it has been repeatedly used in social media and in person by many in the University community. The Sewanee Purple strives for accuracy and fairness and welcomes readers’ comments.
Elizabeth McMahon
Staff Writer
Walking down the sidewalk of University Avenue, one could almost think that it was move-in day: cars packed with blankets, baskets, and posters lined the street. Freshmen girls and their parents buzzed around, lugging suitcases and bags to and fro, spilling from the entrance of Johnson Hall. Suddenly, realization struck: it was almost midterms and the cars were being packed..
This was the reality for all 54 members of Johnson Hall Saturday October 5 and the days following. The previous evening, Residential Life emailed announcements that their home was being shut down because mold had infested the building so everyone in Johnson would have to move immediately into temporary housing. These girls, soon to be nicknamed “the Johnson refugees” by the student body, gazed up at the weathered name plaque at the dorm’s entrance, their dark jokes about living in garbage bags trying to mask their anxiety and anger. The building, once bustling with warm laughter and tight community, is now lifeless: only the whirring of fans echo mechanically whirring through eerily lit halls.
Although the University offered temporary housing at the Smokehouse Lodge for those who were not immediately evacuated, the motel was nearly five miles from campus, classrooms, McClurg meals and friends. Lacking personal transportation, many girls were either forced to rely on the generosity of others and camp on the floors of friend’s dorms and surf theme house couches or prolong their mold exposure in their Johnson dorm rooms over the weekend.
I attended a meeting that administrators held with students that Sunday, October 7 – not as just a journalist, but because I am one of the Johnson refugees. When I asked whether any of the Johnson would receive any compensation–particularly for medical – I did not receive a clear answer.
The Sewanee Purple also obtained a recording of administrators’ Zoom meeting with parents of the Johnson girls. In that meeting, parents were exceptionally vocal about their girls not only being uprooted but placed in a dorm with mold.
“We trusted you guys. In parent orientation, you told us that you understood that we were giving you our children and that we could trust you. That did not happen,” one mother told administrators. “This is not a situation that is acceptable at all. We walked away, you knowing there was mold in that building. Both of those rooms had mold in them. Not only that, but all of the reports from these girls that I know have happened for weeks have been ignored up until now. That is unacceptable.”
Another parent pointed out that her daughter had tried the University’s “call a proctor” phone number for help the day before, only to have it answered by a student who said he was at baseball practice. Other parents complained that their upset students had tried to go by the Residential Life office for assistance that weekend, only to find no one there. Still others said the QR code that students were told would send complaints to Facilities Management wasn’t working. Adding to all that, a parent blurted toward the end of the Zoom meeting that their daughter had just tried the “call a proctor” phone number again and it had quit working.
As an evicted resident of Johnson Hall, I can speak on behalf of all of us who were stripped of our first Sewanee home. We all expected uncomfortable mattresses and cramped rooms, but never did we suspect that mold would be such a defining part of our first semester in college. A teacher in middle school frequently told me and my classmates that “cleanliness was next to godliness.” Whether religious or not, we and our parents hoped that our first Sewanee experience would at least be clean.
As we Johnson refugees began to uproot and replant their lives, many recounted their experiences and feelings in interviews with me. Girls who moved into Johnson as early as August 12 described mold creeping across some of their rooms’ carpets like snow’s evil cousin. As flurries of mold spores spread through Johnson’s halls and floors, girls noticed and reported it in the dorm’s common and personal spaces. By late September, white gunk dusted floors and walls in the second-floor bathroom and under beds. The first report of mold to Facilities Management was September 1, when one of the proctors sent in a work order for mold in air ventilation. Despite being told that this incident was resolved, mold continued to spread. Many Johnson residents described suffering from coughing, congestion, exhaustion and more; some had to visit emergency rooms. Liza Bandy (C’ 28), one of the girls who lived in room 229, a room severely affected by the mold, told me how the mold negatively affected her health “I had to come and be at home for several weeks and I have started experiencing a lot of brain fog,”
She said. “I cannot always form sentences and process what others are saying to me.” Her voice was laced with exhaustion as she described dizziness and fainting spells and a struggle with rudimentary activities and routines.
Another girl who wishes to remain anonymous recounted having odd dreams and sleep paralysis—something that she has never experienced before. “A month ago—or two months ago even—I had one of these dreams. One of my friends was in the dream and said ‘Your room doesn’t smell right; there’s something wrong. You have to open this window.’” As she spoke, I heard a deep rattle in her chest. She said she had coughed and had lung congestion for weeks. Her frustration and helplessness was palpable.
In addition to being affected physically, Johnson refugees said uprooting their lives has caused mental and emotional challenges. Some said that they were finding it difficult to balance classes and work and enjoy their time on campus.
“It was really challenging to get all my stuff together in a short amount of time,” said one girl who asked for anonymity. She added that moving “was difficult because I’m usually super busy from 8 a.m. to 9:30 [p.m.]. It was difficult to pack everything up in a short amount of time [and] move it because I do not have a car so I had to rely on other people. “Just being displaced is weird; it doesn’t feel real. It feels like I am in a hotel temporarily.”
Many have been separated from their friends and roommates. People they once shared a close bond with have been replaced by near-strangers. New roommates were only acquainted when each distraught Johnson refugee lugged their belongings into a new dorm room. Most of the Johnson girls were moved into upperclassmen’s dorms such as Gorgas, Emery, and Trezevant. Many of these girls were distraught over being moved into an upperclassman’s dorm away from their first friend. I was sent halfway across campus from my roommate, and I felt like I was intruding on a stranger’s space.
Gradually, the University’s response has gotten better. A week after we were booted out of Johnson Hall, Vice Chancellor Pearigen and his wife graciously had all of us Johnson girls over to Chen Hall for lunch. And after fall break, the Pearigens were there to welcome us as we were allowed to move into McCrady Hall. The vice chancellor was a warm and welcome presence; his concern for us was a marked contrast to how our plight was initially handled.
As of October 30, 29 of us have moved into McCrady Hall. Most of us are happily settling in. Instead of the musty smell that Johnson Hall initially greeted these girls with, McCrady now welcomes Johnson refugees with vinyl tile floors. Although the dorm’s chemical smell was overbearing when I first crossed the threshold, I didn’t mind because it told me that the building was clean. There were no carpets for mold to sprout in. The Johnson girls are at last in a clean, sanitary environment. If you would like to learn more about how the mold took hold in Johnson Hall, see School of Mold Episode II: Mold Strikes Back.
This is a well written article and it is great that students feel comfortable speaking up for themselves. This is a terrible situation and I wish the best for all impacted—however, perhaps we should not be equating moving dorms to “homelessness.” These are students at a $70k+ liberal arts college, not “refugees.” Let’s keep in mind the real-world context of these words and the privilege we have as Sewanee students.