Reflections on Residency 2025

As May 2026 approaches, I’m excited for my second residency at Texas Lutheran University where I’m earning my Ed.D. in Interdisciplinary Leadership.

I find myself reflecting on my first residency in May 2025, the one that shifted something deeper in me than I expected.

I went into it thinking it would be all academic: structured, productive, contained, and awkward. It was all those things, yes, because after all, it’s a quality, rigorous program with high expectations! And if you’ve ever been part of an online program at a university, and you never (or rarely) got to set foot on campus, you might know what I’m talking about. There’s an expectation that maybe you’re going to have to smile and nod a lot, maybe endure some awkward ice breakers, and maybe some forced fun.

Well, as it turns out, the awkward part didn’t last very long. And there was no forced fun (it came naturally!), and no weird ice breakers (we didn’t need it!).

What I wasn’t prepared for is how life-affirming it would be for me as a human.

From the very beginning, there was this unexpected and immediate sense of belonging. You know that rare feeling when you walk into a room and you just somehow know that you fit? That’s a pretty rare feeling for me in my life – to feel like I belong. That sense of belonging, realizing that I have found my people, made me want to work hard alongside them, and we did. My thinking was stretched beyond what it had been before, as I co-created this learning experience with my professors and my colleagues.

That was the residency. A cohort full of brilliant, thoughtful, and deeply interesting people who quickly became more than classmates. They became colleagues, collaborators, and friends. This was not just “networking.” These were precious, valuable people that I knew I wanted to stay connected to. And not because I feel like I should, but because my life feels fuller, richer, and more meaningful by having these people in my circle.

And that’s what makes this experience feel like something to revisit, to foster, to cherish.

One of the most powerful threads woven throughout the residency came from Dr. P.’s reflections. My colleagues might agree, his reflections are part lecture, part meditation, and part call to action. Dr. P. has a well-known penchant for etymology (you know, the study of words…not bugs!); he’s notorious for it. One idea he shared during our residency that stuck with me: hospitality, not hostility. They share the same root word, and one means ‘master of guests’ and the other means ‘stranger’. Two sides of the same coin, and the good news is, we don’t have to do a coin flip, we get to decide which one we will align ourselves with each day. Hospitality, not just in the physical sense, but in how we engage with ideas, with people, and with our differences. What would it look like to approach our work, our scholarship, and our lives with openness instead of defensiveness?

Another idea that reframed everything for me: the student hosts the university, not the other way around. Let that sit for a second. It flips the traditional power dynamic and places responsibility and our own agency right back into our hands. We are not passive recipients of knowledge; we are active participants in shaping the experience, inviting the university into our homes and our lives in a willing partnership. I had never considered college that way. Maybe that’s where the magic really happens: rethinking your old ideas.

There was also a recurring emphasis on community, and I’ve been reminded of it time and again at TLU. Our community is our lifeline. And we are never alone. And that’s big because doing graduate work, especially at the doctoral level, can sometimes feel quite lonely.  The reminder that community can carry you through life’s toughest moments felt less like theory and more like truth you could see unfolding in real time in shared conversations, in late-night laughter, and in the quiet understanding that you’re not doing this alone.

And then there was the energy that comes from not doing this alone. It’s difficult to articulate what it feels like to be in a room filled with bright, curious, driven minds, especially when all of us are leaning in, asking challenging and thoughtful questions, and all of pushing each other forward through encouragement. It’s learning who your dissertation chair will be and being so thrilled with who it turned out to be. It’s collaborating with a small group and learning so much in two hours. It’s electric, and the kind of energy that fuels you. It reminds you why you started this journey in the first place.

There are plenty of funny memories, too! And honestly, those might be just as important.

Like meeting Talulah Mae, the university’s honorary mascot, and fully embracing the moment. She may have appeared to be sleepy, but she woke up to give us a big wet sloppy smooch and let us take our picture with her.

Or the formal dinner where my friend Lorri and I somehow managed to knock over wine bottles and glasses, because apparently, grace under pressure is not always our strength. And later hanging out with her family at their Airbnb, playing Uno, and laughing the way you do when you feel completely at home.

Or learning bits of campus and Seguin history: the squirrels, the world’s largest pecan, and the bulldog, the stories that give a place its personality.

Those are the moments that matter. They’re the glue.

So, as we look ahead to May 2026, I’m excited to return, and I want to foster this experience. To build on it. To carry it forward in a way that serves something bigger than myself. I look forward to building deeper connections and forging lifelong relationships.

Because that’s what this residency gave me: not just knowledge, but connection. Not just insight, but perspective. Not just memories, but responsibility.

And this time, I’m walking in with a sense of hospitality, ready to help host the experience just as much as I receive it.