We Need to Talk About Barnett
Barnett Hall.
It used to house communication, psychology and ROTC. It used to make sense for us to be here, but now it doesn’t.
It’s been almost a year since Barnett stopped being an academic building. Professors’ offices are getting turned into spaces for DPS. Equipment and filming spaces are becoming harder to get to with all of the construction. And Truman Media Network is just still … here on our own.
No one from the administration emailed us to explain what was happening. We heard things from professors, but most of it we figured out by watching it happen in real time. Spaces that used to feel familiar just aren’t anymore.
DPS is moving in. Other departments are here. And we’re still here too — but it feels less like we belong and more like we just haven’t been asked to leave yet.
As I sit in the Barnett Hall atrium writing this, I really can’t help but feel nostalgic for how things used to be. The walk here from campus was always something to connect over when you met new people in class. And honestly, those walks to and from Barnett were some of the best parts of my day. I did my best eavesdropping, debriefing classes with friends and sometimes just using it as a moment to clear my head. It felt like its own kind of meditation.
The meditation usually ended when I realized I had sweat through my presentation clothes in October. That’s just the Barnett experience. It was never perfect, but it was our shared experiences which made it all bearable. I know I wouldn’t be as close to some of my fellow communication majors if it weren’t for all of the Barnett experiences we shared.
When I became Editor-in-Chief of the Index, I basically lived in Barnett Hall. The newsroom became my second home, and Don Krause’s office was right down the hall from it. If I wasn’t stressing in my own head, I was talking it out my problems with him.
What made it manageable was how close everything was. I could step a few feet out of the newsroom and immediately find someone who could help me figure things out. Separating a departmental organization from their own department is not a choice I would ever make. I wouldn’t keep the Herpetorium in Magruder Hall if the entire zoology department moved to Baldwin.
That’s not how it works anymore, because now my advisor’s previous office belongs to a DPS lieutenant.
And it’s not just that one office – it’s everything. This building used to have energy. Now it’s quieter in a way that doesn’t feel temporary.
We don’t know where we’ll be next year. We don’t know how long we’re staying here. We don’t really know anything, and that’s a problem when you’re trying to run a newspaper.
We’ve already dealt with everything this building could throw at us. We worked here when it was truly freezing, when there was mold and when it was basically empty. The emptiness was the worst part. Even though it is really hard to type with frozen fingers.
Now the building is finally being used again, and somehow we’re the ones who don’t seem to fit in anymore.
Even though we’re supposed to be the voice of campus, it’s hard not to feel invisible to the administration right now.
I understand, this is a thankless job. And though I don’t expect a “thank you” from the administration, I just wish they knew the hardships we’ve worked through in this building all on our own. An email to students would have been enough.
