Reading Xan’s pit thread about idiots in his dorm, I couldn’t help but recall my own dorm experience.
I had a most wonderful, considerate, helpful, quiet floor-mates when I was at University in Montreal. We had breakfast and dinners together. We shared a phoneline. We would sneak out at night and go eat burgers down the street. They were all amazing…
No, this wasn’t in the 1950s. This was in the 90s.
… but I did live in a convent.
Yes, a convent. Best thing EVER, too. They rented out the 5th floor of their HUGE facility to a bunch of us “kids” - students from everywhere around the world who wanted a quiet place to study and live. We were, for the most part, allowed to be totally independent. Yes, the floor was co-ed. 
Quite amusing.
The nuns (and old brothers and priests who also lived there - I swear, it was like an old folks’ home…) spoiled us, as did the cook. We were well fed, we had access to the kitchen at all times, we could prepare our lunches and take them with us… and bonus of all bonuses, one order of retired brothers on the 3rd floor were from some teaching order and in the bunch, we had a mathematician, a chemistry teacher, an english lit/poetry guy, two french grammar specialists, and a philosopher.
The old folks were happy to have us “kids” around. They didn’t push us to attend services, or be all religious at all - in fact, one of my floormates was wiccan, and they were fascinated by her spirituality. We had lots of long evenings discussing things from history to politics, to religion, to modern music. These nuns were cool. There were many games of “Asshole” with the nun who ran our floor (the administrator of the building). She rocked.
They knew just how important music was to me, and they knew that I was spending time at the Univeristy practicing where I could and when I could. So one day, I came home from school to find Soeur Estelle waiting for me in the hallway. She took me by the arm, and to the rec room down the first-floor hallway, and showed me their old upright piano. It hadn’t been in great shape - even though it was a lovely Yamaha beast - and they’d gotten it fixed for me. They asked if they could, sometime, poke their noses in and listen to me play. I spent many hours in there playing, sometimes with a friend with whom I played duets… it was just such a great experience.
There are funny stories, of course - like how some mornings some nuns came out of the… erm… wrong “wings” of the building, positively glowing.
Don’t really know why I felt the need to share. I was very young when I left home to go to school. I’m grateful I ended up there, initially. I wish I had stayed longer, to be honest. Ah, hindsight… and oh, the foolish decisions we sometimes make.
Want to know what goes on behind the closed doors of a convent? Ask away!
