The 301 Saga: Students say they faced an evacuation, mass relocation, and chaos with little support from administration

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Student, seen through a window, waits for a taxi on street with luggage on left and a guitar case in hand.
Student waits for a cab outside of 301 Residence Hall on Wednesday, April 12. Photo by Caidin Ferrigno

Only a week after a fire and flood in The New School’s 301 Residence Hall, residents of 301 were hit with another major disruption. At 9:08 p.m. on Tuesday, April 11, students received an email from university housing notifying its recipients that all 540 residents of the building were to be evacuated beginning the following day, due to reported gas line issues. The email stated that residents would receive a follow-up email with further information on their pending relocation the next morning. 

Instead, the following week was clouded by uncertainty as students struggled to make sense of the little information that they could get their hands on. Unsure of whether or not they had a place to stay, numerous students told The New School Free Press they were frustrated by the university’s shortcomings in terms of providing support and communicating updates.

“If I go to class right now, will I miss the move-out?”

Wednesday morning came and went with no word from the university housing office, leaving students confused and frustrated about their living situation. On Wednesday morning, Francesca Erdosh and Hannah Roose, both first-year students at Parsons School of Design, sat on the curb outside of 301 discussing their confusion over sips of iced coffee. Erdosh, who is studying fashion design, said that “In the email, they said we’d know [the details of the move] by this morning.” It was 10:30 a.m., 12 hours after the first email had been sent, and they had yet to hear any further instruction from the school. 

“We don’t know if we should go to class today because we have no idea what time they want us to move out. I mean there are like 700 students in the building and they want us all to move out in one day and we don’t even know we’re going yet…And it’s finals week, I have so many materials and art supplies I need for my projects. Am I going to need to lug my 50-pound sewing machine to a random hotel?” Erdosh said. “I’ve never experienced worse communication. It’s atrocious.”

Francesca Erdosh and Hannah Roose sitting on the curb with their morning coffee. Photo by Caidin Ferrigno

Roose, who is a photography major, said that even just transparently relaying the complexity of the situation would have been helpful. “Just let us know where we’re going. We get that it’s probably very stressful for them to figure out, but this shouldn’t be happening,” she said. “They’re not communicating [any sort of] time[-frame]. If I go to class right now, am I going to miss when I’m supposed to be moving out of the dorm?” 

Awaiting further instruction regarding the relocation, Ellis Gatewood, a first-year student at Eugene Lang College of Liberal Arts, missed all of their classes on both Wednesday and Thursday in preparation for the move – only to be met with radio silence on behalf of the university.

“We heard nothing. Everybody’s just sitting around just waiting to move out. I didn’t know what to pack. I didn’t know for how long,” Gatewood said. 

Seventeen hours passed after the first email was sent without any follow-up from the university addressing their impending relocation or the status of the gas-line issues, leaving students to question both their safety and their housing situation. “We were all left in the dark. There was so much uncertainty and fear,” Gatewood said. “I just wanted to know if I could go to bed or if I would have to move all of my stuff in a moment’s notice.”

“We don’t know anything, It’s just like last week.”

Ryan Elgin and Maggie Stewart, both first-year students and residents at 301, stormed through the lobby towards the RA’s Office just after 12 p.m. on Wednesday in search of answers. “It’s almost noon and [the university has sent us] no information. Some people haven’t showered in days and kids have classes. I’m going to have to skip a final because I may have to randomly move out,” Elgin said. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’m going to see how much to pack and how long to prepare to be gone. They said [that we should expect to be gone] for a minimum of a week.” 

“Some people are saying two weeks, some people are saying one, but [last time] it [ended up] being two days.” said Stewart, who had just moved back to 301 after having been relocated the week prior due to damages from the fire and flood.

At 2:21 p.m. Wednesday afternoon, a second email from the school offered a summary of the situation, assuring students that, “[the university was] currently finalizing the details for all locations and housing assignments. Residents will be notified of their temporary reassignment early this afternoon.”

Elgin said that the lack of communication on behalf of the university also created a growing fear of a potential safety hazard that students weren’t being alerted to the magnitude of. “It feels like they are hiding things. Is there a gas leak? What’s going on? We don’t know anything, It’s just like last week,” he said. 

A common theme expressed by 301 residents was the collective mistrust of the university and its ability to navigate these unforeseen circumstances in a way that prioritizes the well-being of the students. As if to justify this sentiment, the students’ temporary housing reassignments – as of 2:21 p.m. on Wednesday – were promised to arrive in a separate email early that same afternoon but weren’t provided until late Thursday morning.

Maggie Stewart waits for the elevator with a moving cart. Photo by Caidin Ferrigno

Gatewood, the Lang student who missed a day of classes waiting to move, woke up to an email around 10:15 a.m. on Thursday informing them that they had been placed at an American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA) dorm on the Upper East Side’s West 85th Street. 

“That’s nowhere near campus – mind you. I live on East 17th Street and I have accommodations for my mental health,” Greenwood said. “Still, I decided to go check out 85th Street to see if it’s livable or if I would have to go get a hotel room out of pocket, which [for many of my peers] isn’t an option.”

And thus began a city-wide goose chase. 

Following instructions from the university’s email, Gatewood made their way uptown. They walked through the doors of The Amsterdam, one of two AMDA residence halls rented for the relocation, only to learn they weren’t on the list of New School students with housing arrangements. A fellow student suggested that Gatewood may have confused the location with The Stratford, which is located on West 70th Street and is another one of AMDA’s residence halls. The Stratford had not been acknowledged as a placement option in any of the emails from the university. 

“When I got relocated, they messed up the emails with the assignments of where we’re getting relocated to,” said Aster Krawiec, a first-year student at The New School, “there are two AMDA dorms. One is on 85th Street and one is on 70th, but the shuttle [from 301] dropped off everyone at 85th Street. The email said the correct name of the building we were in, but it had the wrong address and no one knew that there were two different buildings until we actually got there. By that time, the shuttle had left. So me and like at least ten other people had to just Uber and pay for ourselves to get over there.”

Gatewood was met with a similarly inconclusive situation at The Stratford. “I walk in and say – ‘Hey, I just came from 85th Street, I was told that I’m supposed to be staying here in room 805.’ And they said, ‘805 is taken.’ Once again, I am told that I’m not on the list,” they said.

Defeated, Gatewood left their name with the housing officials at The Stratford in hopes that they would locate an empty bed. They decided to head back downtown after overhearing through students that there may be free rooms left at Kerrey. “So I try to explain my situation, emphasizing that I have accommodations for my mental health and was originally promised to be put in on-campus housing. I spent around two hours in the RA’s office while they helped me make calls to try and find somewhere for me to live. Everyone except for housing [administrators] has been so helpful and really supportive through all this even though they don’t have to be,” they said. 

Finally, at around 6 p.m. on Thursday, Gatewood was notified that there was an open room at The Stratford on 70th Street. “Since [The Stratford] wasn’t registered anywhere as a housing placement, there weren’t any shuttles there. I didn’t know how else to get there with all of my stuff so I had to get a $50 Uber out of pocket,” Gatewood said.

Ellis Gatewood prepares to move their things from their AMDA dorm. Photo by Caidin Ferrigno 

Upon their arrival at The Stratford, Gatewood was warned that “the room is really small and there’s some chipped paint, and I go – ‘Oh my god, I just want to sleep in a bed tonight,’ I thought I was gonna have to hang my hammock in Central Park!” 

AMDA administrators seemingly failed to mention the gaping hole in the ceiling that would leak brown liquid after caving-in days later. Despite the leakage in the wall, Gatewood said they were just grateful to have secured a place to sleep, no matter the circumstances. 

“I’ve lost more money than I’ve gained in knowledge”

Both students and parents worry that the relocations may result in added expenses that won’t be calculated pragmatically by the university, leaving them responsible for covering any potential amenities out of pocket. Although the university provided $150 in dining dollars to those assigned to off-campus residences, the vendors that accept those dining dollars are located around the University Center, which is far from the majority of relocation assignments. 

“This entire transition has been really expensive,” Gatewood said. “I’ve had to buy all of my food, there’s no kitchen or anything for me to cook in. So I have to go out for all of my meals. They added to our dining dollars, but all of the vendors are downtown and I’m on 70th St.”

As the majority of 301 residents are first-year students, they are new to the city and have been left to navigate these circumstances on their own.

“I kept just thinking – I want my mom, I can’t do this alone,” Gatewood said. “[The university] is literally leaving kids who are newborn adults, to figure this out on our own. We don’t know how to do this shit. I just want my mom. I just want some fucking support.”

Parents have expressed their dismay regarding the situation, voicing their concerns on a parents’ Facebook group. Many of these complaints are centered around the university’s alleged failure to answer any incoming phone calls or emails regarding the matter. “I think it’s not so much these issues as it is the fact that the New School has ongoing issues around managing issues like this! I’m not expecting a challenge-free environment but I am expecting the school to know how to appropriately respond to challenges,” said one user. 

A spokesperson for the university acknowledged students’ and parents’ frustrations in a statement issued to the Free Press. “We understand how disruptive the incidents at 301 Residence have been to our students and worked quickly to ensure they would have the support and resources necessary during this time period,” Merrie Snead, Senior Manager of Communications, said. “Managing the relocation of all 540 residents was a complex and intense process that involved the coordination of multiple university departments…”

Snead added that the university wanted to hear students’ concerns in order to improve its response if a similar situation happens in the future. 

“While status updates and information were communicated to students in as timely a manner as possible, we understand the concerns that have been expressed about the process,” she said.

Additionally, parents reported feeling as though they are throwing money down the drain with one user on the Facebook page commenting that “The cost of housing is astronomical and it’s been one horror after another.” Many users said they felt as though the school has yet to offer any sort of consolation or acknowledgment for their children’s education being compromised by the string of issues. 

“I called my parents about it, and they were also like, what the hell, you know?” said Nini, a first year student at Parsons who asked to be identified only by her first name. “These are extra expenses for us as students that we don’t need and many of us can’t even afford. I can’t imagine being a student with disabilities at this time. If I, in my semi-privileged position, feel this way I can’t imagine how others are feeling right now.”

Nini shared similar frustrations with the university’s communication.“It’s pretty poor. I feel like in a situation like this, you should be on top of it every second giving updates. If there’s some kind of delay in telling us where we’re going, at least tell us – Hey, there’s a delay and we’ll tell you eventually [as soon as we know],” she said.

The situation not only cost students financially but also impacted their education, residents said.

Gatewood explained that it took them “around 40 minutes to get to school” from their AMDA dorm, and expressed concern about the tardies and absences that they accumulated during the relocation process.

“I’ve missed so many classes and I haven’t had any time to do homework. I’m stressed all the time and I’m worried that it will affect my grades. I’m here for my education which I have not gotten this year,” they said. “I’ve made great friends but my education has not been guaranteed. I’ve lost more money than I’ve gained in knowledge.” 

Another Relocation.

Gatewood was forced to relocate once again on Wednesday, April 19, after the hole in the ceiling of their AMDA dorm severely caved in, leaking wastewater. Students weren’t able to move back into 301 until Friday, April 21, but Gatewood’s AMDA dorm posed a serious health and safety hazard. After hours of negotiation, they were finally placed at an on-campus dorm, 20th Street Residence Hall, effective immediately. That afternoon they packed up their belongings once again, marking their third move that week.  

Upon their arrival, Gatewood was greeted by a suite filled with three empty beds, each completely unoccupied. “Why was I living in a hazardous room 50 blocks uptown when there is all of this empty space on campus?” they said.

Gatewood asked the university to reimburse them for the hundreds of dollars in Uber fees that had accumulated over the series of moves, but their request was denied. In an email, Uma Joshi, who is the Associate Director of Housing Operations at The New School, said that Gatewood would be responsible for coordinating and funding other travel options outside of the provided shuttles. 

“I feel like I’ve heard from so many people how genuinely alone and isolated they feel, which is crazy because there are 700 people going through this too,” said Gatewood. “But we all just feel so alone in this. It’s weird.” 

On Friday, April 21, Gatewood, along with all residents of 301, lugged their heaps of belongings all the way back to 301, where, hopefully, they can finally begin to put this nightmare behind them. 

For more information, see both the breaking news and follow-up articles covering the dorm fire, and the breaking news of the gas-line relocation

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