Unlike other universities, Harvard supports an elaborate House system rather than that of traditional dormitories. I’ve always found the analogy to be comforting. Even if I am 3,000 miles away from home, I can still say that I live in a House, which is also within a neighborhood. The people in your House essentially become your second family, ranging from your blockmates to your fellow d-hall dwellers, and this extends to your Resident Tutors. To be a tutor, then, means to commit to a significant role in fostering House community. It means filling in the large shoes of a mentor, advisor, point of contact, and confidante.

At the most superficial level, tutors may serve as academic advisors. Sure, when I’m debating whether to switch my concentration, I can talk to a tutor in Eliot about my evolving academic interests and seek out advice. But what about the fact that I will live in the same House with this person for three years? What about all the times we’ve sat together for dinner or the times I’ve played with her children? Given the close ties between House members, can tutors ever be considered just academic advisors?

The boundary between the resident tutor’s role as an advisor and a friend is a hazy and undefined blur. So many students have developed genuine bonds with their house tutors. In these relationships, emotion and wisdom are interwoven until they are practically indistinguishable. Such complex relationships, however, come with a stark difference in power. As friendly or giving as tutors may be, they are still staff members with the ability to impact an undergraduate student’s academic trajectory at Harvard. As such, they must realize the implications and consequences behind all their actions.

When a tutor hurts or negatively harms a student, the consequences spread like wildfire, destroying a House from within its wooden framework. As members of the House community, tutors should be cognizant of the sensitivity of their roles in the lives of undergraduates. Tutors ultimately possess greater leverage than students in the power dynamic and therefore have the power to either escalate or deescalate a situation. If you are a tutor, then I urge you to ask yourself: What are your motivations for taking on this role? Do you have the commitment and dedication to the House community to handle the responsibilities and maturity that come with guiding the rocky lives of students?

Undoubtedly, tutors are a point of support and empathy for their students, but this role should not stop outside the walls of a House. The Harvard network is strong and resilient, and everyone in the Harvard community is connected to some degree. When a student was forcibly arrested by Cambridge Police Department officers, we all felt the tide of the effects. When a student created history and transcended the limitations placed by his country, we watched and celebrated his success.

So when the delicate trust between a student and a tutor is broken and replaced with strategic targeting and hostility, the incident no longer becomes isolated within the fences of Winthrop House.

The responsibility of tutors, then, entails being a figure of guidance, support, and understanding for all undergraduate students, not just those of their House. A student should not have to feel afraid to approach a tutor or anticipate a negative interaction of such magnitude, for the actions of one tutor can irrevocably affect the perception of the others. This is an immense responsibility to shoulder, one that comes with pressure and the need for careful judgment. But it is necessary for the health of our community, and those whose hearts understand the gravity of their impact are perhaps the ones most fit for the role.

Linda Lee ‘21, a Crimson Editorial editor and Crimson Blog Comp Director, is a Computer Science concentrator in Eliot House.