I went to college here a couple years ago. The first day I arrived, I got my keys to the room I’d have for the year in Biever Hall, and I went upstairs. When I got to my room, there was my name, right under a picture of Jim Belushi wearing a T-shirt that said “College.” They didn’t show him with the handle of Jack Daniels, but I got the picture. I immediately smiled to myself, waited for my parents to leave, and said, “Yeah … This is exactly what I was expecting.”

I think that’s the problem. We sometimes grow up to glorify this whole college experience as just another episode of “Animal House” or “Old School.” And we also tend to think of college as a period of our lives where we can be selfish about what and how we learn. To some extent, it’s healthy to take ownership over these university years and live your own life on your own terms.

But part of being in college, especially a Jesuit one, is to grow in our understanding of who we are within the context of a larger community.

In order to really grow while at Loyola, we need to constantly remind ourselves (students, faculty and staff) of how lucky we all are to be in a place like this. To spend four years in a set of ornate brick buildings … and having the opportunity to just learn? That is a notion even most pre-Katrina New Orleanians couldn’t imagine. And what got us here? Sure, we’re all smart enough, no one doubts that. But most of us have also got a whole lot of privilege on our side. We have to remember that it’s not just merit-based.

If we really started as a Loyola community to realize how incredibly lucky and blessed we are, this campus might look a little different. We weren’t given the opportunity to be in college just to explore what makes us happy, or what bars are really cool or what dating techniques really work. For that matter, we aren’t just here for resumé building. These are all really important elements of our development, and in that sense, they’re good. But college can’t just be about us.

Half of Loyola’s student body never even had a class in pre-Katrina New Orleans. And we know by your standardized test scores and grades that you had options in the school you chose to attend. So why did you come? Why’d you choose this battered, broken, wounded city? And the upperclass students could have transferred. Why’d you stay? My guess is that at least a part of you is here because you love what the city stands for, or you appreciate the concept of revitalization, or you are at least partially in touch with the hopefulness of people here.

We have a responsibility to this community, especially. It’s not always so easy to understand our connection to the city where we go to college. It’s probably not so simple to identify with the systemic problems of Austin, Texas, or Iowa City, Iowa (though I’m sure they have social ills).

We are living in the most devastated city in the history of America. Things aren’t normal here, and we just can’t try to tell ourselves they are. In fact, if you haven’t seen a gutted house (or worse, an ungutted one) recently, or the face of someone who lived in one, you should ask yourself why not.

There are a lot of valid reasons for not revisiting those places you toured when you first witnessed post-Katrina New Orleans. It can be quite heart-breaking and emotional. But thinking that your life at Loyola is more important than your responsibility to New Orleans is not a good excuse.

That’s why we have so many opportunities for students here to take an active role in rebuilding New Orleans. Two hundred members of the Loyola community spent their entire Saturday a couple weeks ago taking part in various community events as a part of the National Jesuit Day of Service.

The Loyola University Community Action Program has projects that go out every day, and if you come one day, you are almost guaranteed to meet and act in solidarity with a person who has suffered as a result of Katrina.

We have smart and passionate students here at Loyola. But sometimes we have to remind ourselves why we’re really here. No matter how stressed out you are about your chemistry test, there are millions and millions of people who wish that was the extent of their concerns.

Rick Yelton is director of LUCAP and an associate chaplain.