I suppose it's reassuring to be reminded that, even at a "mature" age, I am capable of learning. But it's such a messy process, education – isn't it? The recent ponderings and conversations, arising from the sad death of Scott Krueger, are a case in point. An ultimate lesson seems to me to be that we are still trying to find the proper question to try to answer.

One thing I am sure it is not is alcohol – pace the Boston Licensing Board. It cannot be anything but wise and helpful to be certain we are, personally and institutionally, supporting the laws of the Commonwealth. But, given that we include in our community a large group of adolescents under extreme academic pressure, and that we live in the contemporary USA, it can hardly be surprising that at times there are incidents of drinking, and indeed of so much drinking as to seem to endanger lives. I mean, when was the last time you went to a party, had five or six glasses of wine or beer, and then got behind the wheel of your car to drive home? Good thing nobody stopped and breathalyzed you, I'd say.

Maybe the issue is R/O, then. It seemed so, to me – and i was glad that at last R/O would be seriously scrutinized and maybe substantively altered. I have been a vocal opponent of R/O since about a week after I arrived at MIT, 14 years ago. And I was sure I had it all scoped out. Here's where the learning starts.

Partly because of an op-ed piece I wrote in the fine new undergraduate newspaper, The Observer, I've attracted a lot of instruction from my undergraduate colleagues, both in person and by e-mail. And it has suddenly dawned on me that, against all reason and logic, R/O works. Somehow, after a hellish week of anxiety and pressure (I used to say that the only useful thing R/O taught freshmen was how to function on little or no sleep), new arrivals at MIT achieve enough academic "orientation" to set up a workable freshman course program, and begin satisfactory undergraduate careers (I don't know what the flunk out or dropout rate is, but my sense is we like to think it's low). And they find somewhere to live – somewhere that they quickly and passionately and seriously think of as "sanctuary" (Jay Keyser's term) or "home" (their term, with surprising frequency). What more could we ask?

So what is the question? I've come to a conclusion about that, which I gladly offer to you. The issue before us, as the "sense of the faculty" motion at the last faculty meeting acknowledged, implicitly, is how to break down the vast chasm between ourselves and our students, how to take on a role – a useful, humane, non-intrusive, non-judgmental role – in the lives of the undergraduates who surround us. What remains is for us to act on that – and to get beyond the one excuse that ought never to be accepted at MIT, i.e., "I'm busy." After all, a permanent condition of task-overload is the nature of this place (that may be another issue we need to confront, in due course). But how many of us even take on undergraduate advisees with any real energy?

So I offer a challenge to my colleagues. Before February 1, take at least one of the following steps:

1) Volunteer to offer a Freshman Advisee Seminar, next autumn.

2) Apply for a House Mastership.

3) Write a letter to all the current house masters, offering your services immediately as a House Fellow.

4) Write a letter to the FSILGs, offering to take on the role of "advisor" to the living group.

All four tasks are, I am assured, considerably undersubscribed. All four are worthy and even necessary ways to engage the lives of students on their own terms, and on their own ground. If we are serious about "taking back" Orientation, about "experimenting" with the communal basis of a new dormitory, the paths are already in place to do so.