When I started my first professional position, I expected to feel some imposter syndrome. I expected to feel like coworkers knew more than me and to be a little intimidated and nervous around them. We talked about it at length in Capstone and throughout the job search process.

I did not expect to be terrified of the students I would be supervising.

In Residence Life at Colorado School of Mines, there is an additional student staff position between professional staff and Resident Assistants and Community Assistants. Our Senior Staff – made up of Hall Directors and Community Directors – are upperclassmen or graduate students who have 1-2 years of experience as staff members. The job they do is basically the same as what a graduate student in student affairs would do – they supervise a staff, oversee a building of residents, and even serve as first responders on a duty rotation.

When I first learned all that the Senior Staff did, I was in disbelief. The number of times I said, “We let undergraduate students do that?” is more than I can count. But the closer we got to their arrival on campus and Senior Staff training, the more the skepticism faded, and the stronger the fear, nervousness, and uncertainty began.

These students had been in Mines Res Life for longer than I had been in residence life anywhere. They could do the job that I just left. They knew more about the campus culture, student population, and policies and procedures than my new professional mind could grasp. And that was uncomfortable and terrifying.

Then the 8 Senior Staff arrived. And they were so nice and talented. And that almost made it worse. My mantras all through our training retreat (which in true Colorado fashion, took place on the side of a mountain and with lots of hiking and bouldering), were, “Fake it till you make it,” and “Don’t let them see the fear in your eyes.” I thought that if I showed any hint of not knowing what I was doing, I would lose their respect and trust.  And on top of it, the more I got to know them, the more impressed I was with them, not just as students or staff, but as people. To this day, I would argue that you won’t find people who can balance as much, give as much, or care as much as our Senior Staff.

I felt this huge amount of pressure, but it took me weeks to realize that it wasn’t the students who were putting that pressure on me. I was doing it to myself.

A few weeks into the start of the semester, after all the training and move-in events were over, I had a conversation with one of the Senior Staff members that changed how I viewed our relationship. I was having an overwhelming day, and felt like I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I finally caved and asked them to tell me about how things were done at Mines from their perspective. It was one of the most helpful conversations I had during those first few months. I later shared with them that I had been terrified to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing.

Their reaction? They laughed and said that was ridiculous.

As real as my fear and nervousness was, it was pretty unfounded. Sure, the students knew a lot more about some things, but I forgot to have confidence in my own experiences and education. I think part of my fear was because I wanted to be the best possible person for my students, and I forgot the most important part of that:

Intentions and trying. If you have good intentions, and you try hard to do the best for your students, you can’t go wrong.

It’s easy to forget that students see us a humans, just as we see them as such. They don’t expect us to be perfect, and it’s not fair to us or them to pressure ourselves to seem as such. We screw up. We don’t know answers. We need help. And the more we are ok with showing that side of ourselves, the more our students will be ok with showing us that side of themselves.

These days, I’m much more comfortable asking the Senior Staff for answers (and it happens almost daily). I’ve realized that they’re happy to help, and it’s so much easier than guessing. They know I’m not perfect, and I’m ok with that. And deep down, I know that they feel better asking me questions because of it.

I’m still scared of them some days, but now it’s more likely to be because they’re leaping from rocks on a mountain than because I think they’re judging me. I like this way much better.

Lisa Latronica is a 2014 graduate of the Higher Education Administration master’s program. She currently serves as a Residence Life Coordinator with the Department of Residence Life at the Colorado School of Mines.