A Tulane University law school student finds a new home at UC Davis.

By Jessica Newman

My journey to UC Davis has been one that I never could have foreseen. Who would have thought that I’d end up here as a “refugee”?

Though I’m from Sacramento, my plan had been to attend Tulane University law school, so in August I moved away from California for the first time. I loaded up my car with all my clothes, books and possessions, and my mother and I drove the 2,300 miles to New Orleans. I spent two weeks buying all the furniture and accessories necessary to furnish an apartment, and then started law school. But only one week into the semester, I awoke to the threat of the first hurricane in 50 years hitting New Orleans, and suddenly everything changed.

I decided to stay and ride out the storm, so I joined a friend who had reserved a room in a hotel near the French Quarter. It wasn’t until Sunday, when the storm became one of the worst ever to hit the United States, that I truly became scared. I had never gone through anything remotely similar, and the thought of losing everything I had was frightening.

When the hurricane hit on Monday, the hotel staff moved us all into the ballroom—the only room without windows. We could hear the wind blowing and could, through windows outside the ballroom, see the rain driven horizontally. The force of the storm was amazing, but the thought of being trapped in the hotel and in the city afterward was what really worried me. After the storm we were actually able to leave the hotel and travel down Canal Street, where we saw the devastation caused by the storm, but it was moderate and the feeling was that New Orleans had escaped the worst of the disaster.

But then Tuesday morning I awoke to a phone call from my father, telling me that the levees had broken and that water was filling the city at a rate of an inch a minute. I knew that I had to leave the city, but I didn’t know which streets were damaged from the hurricane or already flooded. I found a police officer who told me a way out of the city, but I ended up driving in the wrong direction. The fear of being trapped in a city that was under water motivated me to persevere. After several other attempts to find the right streets, including asking another police officer who said there was no way out of the city, I finally found the freeway and was on my way. I left behind everything I owned, except for a few clothes and pictures that I saved in my car. My first-floor apartment was flooded, and everything in it was destroyed.

Once out of New Orleans, my focus turned to the rest of the semester. The flooding in the city made it impossible for Tulane to hold classes, and students were being allowed to attend other schools for the fall. I called Boalt Hall at UC Berkeley and King Hall at UC Davis, speaking to the deans of both law schools while I was driving my car back through New Mexico and Arizona, trying to figure out, despite bad cell phone reception, if there was a place for me at either school. After several phone calls, both schools graciously offered me admission. I then had two days in which to get my life in order, starting with buying a new wardrobe and school supplies.

I started my first day of law school, again, at King Hall almost three weeks into the semester. All the students, faculty and administrators were very kind and have made the transition as seamless as possible. The community has embraced us Tulane “refugees,” and I greatly appreciate their assistance.

Almost two months later, it seems very strange to me the turns my life has taken. I could never have imagined that I would be seeing the Eggheads every day, nor imagined that I’d even be back in California. As for the future? Much remains unsettled—but I’m thinking of staying. And I’m taking it a day at a time.