I first learned the term “townie” in 1977 from two fellow UVA classmates who’d grown up in Charlottesville.
This was before the hit movie Breaking Away (1979) made student prejudice against townies a major plot point in Bloomington, Indiana. There, townies were also called “cutters” — a derogatory reference to the occupation of local stone cutters in town’s nearby quarries.
Breaking Away’s screenplay was written by Indiana University alumnus Steve Tesich who based his main character on an IU fraternity brother named Dave Blase. In 1962, Blase rode in IU’s Little 500 bike race—completing 139 out of the 200 laps for his team, including the final lap. (If you’ve never seen this feel-good, coming of age movie, put it on your watch list…it’s so fun!) In addition to introducing many of us to the terms townie and cutters, it also introduced us to a young Dennis Quaid. Quaid plays a former high school quarterback who can’t afford college and resents IU college kids who can.
But back in 1977, I was interested in how both townie-UVA students I knew rolled their eyes that somehow we students were superior to their local friends.
Even as an 18-year-old I understood that the day before we arrived “on grounds” we were townies too, from whereever we came from. And that anyone could become part of a college community simply by enrolling in community college, and that plenty of college activities are open to anyone. I’d gone to band camp at William and Mary and field hockey camp at University of Maryland. And colleges offered townies concerts, movies, plays, sports, lectures. My RA suggested we might join her as a volunteer at UVA’s Madison House–a place for local kids to come for afterschool enrichment activities.
In her memoir, Michelle Obama noted that few in her southside community felt welcome on University of Chicago’s campus—even tho her mother worked there! But much has changed since then–with colleges providing more and more outreach activities for townies to take advantage of. And the more we townies “belong” to our local colleges, the bigger the benefit to students too. Colleges are economic engines for local communities. Everyone benefits, whether you are a student or not.
Back in 1981, as soon as I took off my UVA graduation gown, I was again a townie. I moved to Houston and found a job, but also enjoyed taking classes at the local community college. When I moved back to Virginia, I took classes at NOVA; the class I took in Desk Top Publishing helped me get a better job and took my career in a new direction.
When I had children, I looked for opportunities to bring them to college campuses. Like the Earth Day celebrations at NOVA that included petting zoos and rock climbing walls. I brought them to George Mason U’s Patriot Center for performances like the Wiggles, the Circus, Sesame Street, Disney on Ice. For my job in association management, I organized and attended professional conferences on college campuses across the country. I wrote (and desktop published!) publications highlighting interesting university outreach activities: storytelling and film festivals, Learning In Retirement programs, summer camps for kids but also for professionals changing careers. I wrote about college hosted migrant worker programs, book festivals, partnerships with museums and national parks, and also this then-new phenomenon: free MOOCs (massive open online courses). MOOCs allowed professors to share their most popular courses to thousands of students around the world–for free. It was heartening to see how colleges could leverage and share their resources to benefit larger communities.
And there was another great way for a townie to “go to college”—and even sometimes get paid a stipend for it– by participating in a research study.
Luke goes to college! My son Luke has severe autism. He reads not quite at a 2nd grade level. He does not understand the concepts of war, racism or bigotry. The pandemic was a shock to all of us, but especially to students like Luke who struggle with speech, language, and social skills. Luke recently turned 22—aging out of public school. Transitions are hard for all of us, but since age 2, his entire social life has depended on school. He was devastated when his favorite high school activities like Best Buddies and Special Olympics shut down due to Covid. He refused to do virtual school or even Best Buddies online meetups. Zoom just reminded him of how badly he wanted to see people “In real life, real life, real life!” Like most of us in the first year of the pandemic, his once full calendar was mostly empty. I struggled to find ANY “real life” activities to keep him not just engaged in the community, but sane. It was so hard. Covid fears dominated. He developed severe OCD, triggered in part by all the handwashing, masks, and traumatic warnings of germs. Even if we arranged to meet friends, if Luke’s mask slipped or he sneezed, even outdoors, his best friend, who had also developed OCD, would want to hurry home to shower.
But thankfully, the worst seems to be past us. Our calendars have filled up again. And Luke was accepted to be a part of a study on Health and Human Performance at Marymount University. His “college application” process for the study involved only 1) being 18 years or older, 2) having an ASD diagnosis, 3) being able to follow simple commands and be physically capable of performing exercises.
Hooray for Luke –even with his severe autism— he’d been “accepted into” college! 🙂
Priming for success. To help him succeed in his part for the experiment, I “primed” him by writing that first appointment on the kitchen calendar. Luke checks that calendar often (much like a rat pressing a bar for a pellet for the intermittent reinforcement). Usually nothing new is on it, but I love when a notation prompts him to ask me questions. He even gets excited for my “book group” because maybe his dad will take him out for burgers and fries if Mom’s going out. When he saw Marymount U on the calendar, I explained: “On Monday at 4pm, we’re going to visit where Nana went to college.” He already knew, generally, what he’d find at a “college” because he’d visited his sister at hers. (He surprised me on our second visit to Manhattan College shouting, “I know Thomas Hall!” and running in. He’d remembered what I’d forgotten, Thomas Hall housed her college cafeteria.)
I hoped I wasn’t overselling the Marymount study, but I also primed him by reminding him of the mantra his 2nd grade teacher preached: “ Learn new things, do new things!”
He gave me a big smile and said “We’re just going to Nana’s College to learn new things!”
I’ve learned that anticipation might be the best part of any experience we’re looking forward to. And even if something doesn’t turn out to be completely fabulous, the joy of the anticipation is still a good thing. The week before the study, Luke seemed more talkative and agreeable. He kept repeating when we’d be going to Nana’s College. Finally, on Monday, as we drove, he happily talked about familiar sights as we ventured to a part of Arlington we don’t often go. “That’s where Julie took me to the playground and to get French fries at McDonalds—back when I was 6 years old!”
“Yes!” I replied, “you remember that?” He read the street signs: “There’s Williamsburg bleved!” I laughed when I realized he didn’t know “Blvd” is the abbreviation for Boulevard. Just like I’d laughed when I had to teach him “Dr is the abbreviation for both drive and doctor. ( “Nana lives on ‘Penwood Doctor!’” haha, “Actually it’s Penwood DRIVE, Luke.”) But as we passed Williamsburg Blvd, we were already laughing and having fun and the experiment hadn’t even started. (I hoped his excitement at the novelty of “going to college” didn’t skew his exercise data with a placebo effect?)
We found a spot to park the car and wandered around campus looking for the lab. He was bright-eyed and alert for the instructor. He noticed a new package of dry-erase markers in her office and she told him he could be rewarded by opening them up when it was over. Thus incentivized, he followed her instructions before drawing a rainbow on the classroom white board. Even visiting the restroom was exciting; he peaked into the library, saw students studying, admired the art gallery and a brightly colored bulletin board with flyers about upcoming activities—we took it all in.
Often, Luke is too tired to go for a swim at the end of a long day. But “after college,” at 5:30pm, he was energized ( “YES! I want to go swim laps!”)
When we got home, he went straight to the calendar, “When am I going to Nana’s college again?” 🙂
Luke’s excitement reminded me of my own when I’d participated in a George Mason University study. Eight years ago, I saw a call for volunteers for a Stress Management pilot program. To qualify you had to 1) be a parent of a child with autism and 2) never have tried meditation before. That was me. I thought meditation sounded weird and boring. (When I picked up the book Eat, Pray, Love, the meditation part bored me so much I stopped reading and wondered why it was a best seller.)
But I needed better stress management and I liked having a reason to be back on a college campus. I immediately liked our instructor. She was so enthusiastic, obviously there was more to meditation than I’d thought. But what I loved about the meditation study was NOT being “alone with my thoughts” –what I loved was NOT being alone in the guided mediations. I enjoyed connecting with the other autism moms. Meditation felt like group therapy, led by our professor. She played recordings by experts in the field; I especially loved Tara Brach’s soothing voice and story-telling. We sat in a circle or on the floor, “however you are most comfortable” and closed our eyes. Some meditations lasted 20+ minutes. I was always surprised how much time had passed when she hit the chime to signal the end. I did not know I was even capable of sitting that long doing nothing but repeating a mantra in my head. But she explained how our intruding stress-filled thoughts were “normal” and how to gently “notice them, but bring your thoughts back to your mantra, just as you would a cuddly a puppy that keeps straying away.”
Surprisingly, I was the opposite of bored at each session. I enjoyed escaping the chaos of my home on Sunday afternoons. The other moms agreed– we loved being part of the study. Months later I ran into one mom and confessed I had not kept up with meditation. But she had with the help of the Calm App. I had tried the app but didn’t like it. But she reminded me I could google Tara Brach’s recordings on YouTube. I found them (for free!) on her website and, if I was having trouble sleeping, I’d let Tara’s soothing “RAIN*” voice calm me until I fell asleep. (Oddly, you are not “supposed” to mediate right before bed as you might fall asleep during meditation. This is a “rule” I do not understand. If the point is to relax and manage stress better, what could be better than a good night sleep? As one comedian put it: “A failed meditation is just another name for a good nap.”)
The GMU study, was not just a good excuse to be back on a campus, it gave me a positive self-talk mantra, one I still repeat in moments of stress. (“It is all going to be Ok-ish. It is all going to be Ok-ish.”) Somehow that mantra, and soothing memories of meditating with other autism moms at GMU, helps calm me.
Luke and I are halfway through the Marymount University study. We to to Nana’s College, twice a week. Knowing it is a Marymount U day makes him so cheerful: “We’re just really looking forward to it,” he tells me as we drive to campus.
Long ago I learned 3 important concepts from my son’s Relationship Development Intervention therapy: 1) All humans need to feel competent, 2) We all need to feel needed, 3) We all need to feel we are contributing.
Participating in college studies makes me feel like we are contributing to a greater good. Even if Luke and I turn out to be incompetent at whatever skill the researcher is measuring, we can still provide our datapoints, for better or worse, to help inform their research.
At the end of the movie Breaking Away, there is a moment when the camera catches the college kid who is Dennis Quaid’s nemesis (Hart Bochner) ruefully smiling amid the applause for the cutters. The actor later admitted, that wasn’t in the script. He just couldn’t help himself.
His smile validates, whoever we are, wherever we live, we “townies” contribute to our local colleges too, in our own ways.
* RAIN (Recognize, Allow, Investigate, Nurture) is an acronym to guide us in bringing mindfulness and self-compassion to challenging emotions. Recognize what is happening; Allow the experience to be there, just as it is; Investigate with interest and care; Nurture yourself with self-compassion.
by Susan Goewey
susan goewey 