This piece is entirely satirical as a part our April Fool’s edition, the Trinibonian.

One of our glorious university’s most distinct features, other than its circumcised tower and Michelin-starred dining hall, is its three-year residency requirement. This policy has been the subject of much debate in the past — including at a certain campus publication, where the anonymous person arguing for the requirement decidedly trounced the male powerlifter arguing against it (there, are you happy?).
In reality, though, this argument is utterly ridiculous. It is obvious to anyone with common sense that the three-year residency requirement doesn’t go far enough. By allowing fourth-year scholars to banish themselves to off-campus living spaces like the Atlee or whatever for a year, Trinity is subjecting them to the horrors of the real world far before their brains are fully developed. By allowing them to live in places where they can control their own thermostats or cook their own meals, Trinity is increasing the odds that these poor scholars will accidentally light themselves on fire or even give themselves food poisoning, which would never ever happen if they lived on campus. At the end of every day, Trinity allows these hapless, defenseless scholars to drive, walk, bike, or, even worse, scooter to strange places, enabling them to get kidnapped by marauders. Clearly, something must change.
So, you might be saying, we should implement a four-year residency requirement. Not so, silly goose. Even a four-year residency requirement doesn’t go far enough — according to Moreno-Jiménez et al. (2019), the human brain never stops growing neurons, suggesting that the brain never stops developing. Ergo, our beautiful scholars with their eternally undeveloped brains will never be safe to go out into the world — and so, we need a lifetime residency requirement.
Sure, my proposal would immediately spark a housing crisis — but then again, where isn’t there a housing crisis right now? We could simply build more units — we could give Thomas 80 more floors, make Prassel an actual castle, build a nursing home where Alumni Relations is so that we can house the 73rd-year or 74th-year students. We could make our ivory tower into a Tower of Babel, but one where it doesn’t fall this time.
It makes perfect sense to me. If you’re going to Trinity, I’m willing to bet you’d call yourself a lifelong learner. So, by staying on campus, sixth-years, seventh-years, eighth-years, and so on would be able to continue to bathe in the environment of intellectual curiosity and cutting-edge philosophical inquiry for which we are known from here to Connecticut. Sure, the permanent residency might slightly raise class sizes, but the university could simply just make qualified 17th-year, 24th-year, or 38th-year students do slightly less soul-crushing work than what they’d otherwise be doing to pay off their too-damn-high rent in a country with a disappearing social safety net. Plus, the market is tight right now for newly minted PhDs — why not just invite all of these starving academics to teach at this new-and-improved campus, Trinity Deluxe, and maybe do some construction work on the side?
Now, I know what you’re thinking — what effect will this have on off-campus frat houses? There’s no need to fret, as there’s room for them on campus, even at Trinity Deluxe. For example, the Delts can charge $5 for men to enter parties in the Chapman basement, the Phi-Sigs can revitalize the rooftop garden at CSI by growing whatever they want, and the I-Chis can have a closet somewhere, since that’s what they’re used to.
The benefits of this proposal are manifold. Scholars wouldn’t have to deal with pesky, fickle, parasitic landlords, and instead with the streamlined, responsive Trinity financial services bureaucracy. Plus, if scholars at Trinity Deluxe wanted for some reason to stop taking classes or doing manual labor for new dorms and instead go out into the “real world,” never to fear — scholars can enroll in ALE 6969 and do experiential learning at so-called “regular” jobs, before returning to the bountiful bosom of Trinity Deluxe at the end of the day. TPD has also agreed to provide ankle monitors and shock collars so we can make sure our beautiful scholars get back home at the end of the day and don’t get lost or kidnapped by aforementioned marauders.
I’m sure I’ve convinced the vast majority of you of the efficacy and beauty of this proposal. I’m sure, though, that there are also a few among you who refuse to use your undeveloped brains and see reason. Most of these holdouts are probably graduating fourth-years who are already too captured by the cult of off-campus housing, who are already eagerly awaiting their entry into the “real” world like Adam and Eve awaiting their expulsion from Eden. For these people, I have one question: how dare you? For the past four years — well, I guess three years because of COVID — fine, for the past three years, you’ve had the opportunity to live in a place with walkability and free-to-you amenities; a place with massive sycamores and live oaks whose canopies shelter you as you walk home from a night of doing whatever you want; a place with friends you tell yourself you hate and food you tell yourself you hate but for which you will soon develop some weird misplaced nostalgia that lasts the rest of your life. The question I have for you, and the question which my proposal has triumphantly answered, is this: why would you ever want to leave?