"Good Fences Make Good Neighbors" - is that the idea?
Picture a clear, Saturday afternoon in Boston. The sun is bright but it does little to make up for the subzero wind chill factor. Back hunched and head bowed, I lean into the wind as I make my way towards the Sackler building of the Tufts University from the New England Medical Center (NEMC) T stop. As I revolve my way into the hospital, I give thanks for the shelter that I've been granted. I am focused and ready to tackle the ream of notes, handouts, and textbook pages in my book bag. And why shouldn't I be? These documents contain all-important information that will help to shape the foundation of my medical knowledge. Remembering my nutrition class and epidemiology small group sessions, I choose the "active lifestyle" option of climbing the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator to take me up three flights of stairs towards the library. In my chipper mood, I even think of my bag as weights that serve to intensify the mini workout experience of climbing the stairs. I am giddy with excitement. I have a full, uninterrupted day of studying ahead, after which time I can relax and bask in the glory of having achieved my goals. I almost skip to the dental school building that connects Sackler and NEMC. I pull on the handle and discover . . . no access. The red light is on; Right! The school's closed at night and during the weekend. I panic. Plan B (I can't reveal this cherished second option). It fails; the doors are locked.
I must go back downstairs, back outside, down the street, to the main Sackler entrance. The thought alone could break me. I stand speechless, feeling rejected and sabotaged. I wait, hoping that some wayward soul will just happen to leave the dental school or have a magical swipe i.d. badge that would be the key to my access. As the reality of my plight settles my thoughts spiral down a cesspool of irritation-laden irrationality and melodrama that convinces me that I am victim to a master plan of intrigue and deception. How could they?! Don't they know it's freezing outside? Don't they know I'm so close to my goal that I can almost smell the 4th floor bathroom down the hall? All these books . . . so . . . heavy. Then self pity turns to anger and resentment. Why on earth can't we get through there? They can walk through Sackler if they want. I'm just trying to study; I should be sleeping right now anyway! Don't they trust me? Now I have to go all the way . . . and it's cold . . . stinking city . . . sun never shines . . . hypothermia . . . now I'll be here forever . . . probably die walking down the street . . . It just gets ugly.
In my more rational state, I still wonder why non-dental students cannot open the school doors between the Proger wing of NEMC and the Sackler building. Medical students have questioned our administrators about such things and received inconclusive responses. I assume that there are security-related concerns being discussed by some administrators somewhere. Not limiting after-hours access to the dental building probably makes the school and the clinic vulnerable to trespassing, vandalism, theft, etc. But the dental school is readily accessible from the Sackler end. Why not put doors between the clinic area and the rest of the world rather than between me and my precious overpass? As a new member of the Tufts academic pool, I may have incorrectly assumed that there is greater geniality and sharing of resources than exists within the university. Perhaps the different schools are meant to be isolated from each other? There are, after all, restrictions in other buildings keeping some out while granting access to others (a separate issue for others to address as desired). Perhaps the Dental School access-denial issue receives disproportionate attention simply because of the frequency with which people use the Sackler-Dental overpass. However, I imagine that such frequent use is enough of a reason for access issues to be discussed, resolved, and clarified for anyone who may be wondering about them.
It is this lack of clarity that keeps tugging at my attempts (and those of others in my predicament?) to just accept the fact that I cannot open the doors at the end of the Proger aisle. I don't know what the concerns are regarding this travel route, nor do I know what options exist for addressing them, nor do I know how discussions about concerns and options will affect my regular routine. Alas, such lack of information unsettles me, makes me wonder what else I should know but don't, and leaves room for me to devise my own answers, however uninformed they may be. In the mean time, there seem to be new sets of doors (or perhaps old doors that have gained a more commanding presence) in the dental school that must be traversed on the way to the Sackler building. This implies to me that something is being resolved by somebody. My worst fear, naturally, is that the somewhat limited ability that I currently enjoy to use the overpass and dental school to get from NEMC to the Sackler building (ultimately to get to the T or to get to studying) will be taken away altogether and that these "new" doors are harbingers of a grim future. I recognize that the overpass is something of a luxury. I probably won't die from walking a little longer in New England's winter air and I could just plan on not using the overpass during off-peak hours, I suppose. But would it really need to be that way?
Tours are led through the overpass as guides boast about the network that is created by the proximity between Tufts University schools and the New England Medical Center. If they aren't they should be! I am regularly impressed by the one-stop-shopping feel of the Tufts-NEMC relationship and the potential for exchange that the network of programs offered at NEMC and Tufts' Boston campus offers students, teachers, researchers, healthcare recipients, and providers alike. There must be a way of ensuring that access-related concerns are suitably addressed, while giving people like me something to quiet our queries, without completely restricting off-peak travel between NEMC and the Tufts dental and Sackler buildings. But I can't begin to offer suggestions for something about which I lack information. So I hope for news and hope that each time I go to the Dental School door during weeknights and Saturdays I will find an angel of dentistry on the other side who'll be willing to accept my pitiful story about how I just had to go to Au Bon Pain for a study break snack and left my jacket in the library so couldn't fathom going back outside.