From the beginning of my first year at Conn up until the end of junior fall, I worked in downtown New London for a few hours every week. The job fell into my lap as soon as I started school, and it was perfect for me. I sang as a supplement to a church choir at St. James Episcopal Church, which was funny, since I’m Jewish. That said, I have never felt more welcome in a community, and, as I look back on my near four years here, it’s one of the parts of college I’ve valued the most.
In high school, I often felt like I sang more than I spoke. I was nervous to arrive at college and not have enough quality time with classical music, which is how I got involved with the church. When I walked in for the first rehearsal, I stuck out—I have some piercings on my face, which I always assume make me look unapproachable. However, perhaps the starkest difference was that I was about 45 years younger than everyone else in the room, save the few other Conn students I went with. I was greeted by some of the nicest people I’ve ever encountered, people who were consistently kind to and supportive of me throughout my three years with them.
The downside of my job was waking up every Sunday morning for the service. Even though I did it for almost three years, each Sunday was pretty brutal. Regardless, I always reminded myself that I loved it and I was getting paid. And at some point, I realized I should make the most of my Sunday after the service and hang out downtown. Each consequent Sunday, if I wasn’t able to stay downtown, I felt like I was missing out. It dawned on me that even though it seemed like Conn made efforts to get students downtown, I still felt largely isolated from the community.
Even with the SEAT bus, public transportation between the College and Southeastern Connecticut, the distance between Conn and downtown feels a lot longer and more inaccessible than two miles. The physical separation is exacerbated by the “college on the hill” mentality permeating campus culture. The stratification is significant, and the onus is on students to involve themselves in the larger community: we have moved here, made our homes here, and it only makes sense that we would make an effort to make ourselves less removed.
Making an effort means more than having a meal at Washington Street Coffee House or going to Tiki on a Thursday night. I don’t have to list the virtues of downtown New London, and students should not have to be convinced to make the trip. With all of our living spaces situated so close to one another, community is concentrated around Tempel Green, around the AC, around Cro. How many other spaces are we not accessing?
Living in Smith my first year, even walking down to the Lyman Allyn felt like a trek. I felt like I had everything I needed just feet away from me. Getting off campus each week reminded me that this was a fallacy. Students need more than class, Cro dances and Harris. We talk a lot about the Real World we’re going to encounter upon graduation, but does it make sense to ignore the world equally present during our four years at school?
In a conversation with some fellow seniors, we discussed how we’ve considered the isolation over our four years. Teresa Cruz ‘16 mentioned the dichotomy that seems to have arisen in the minds of Conn students, with New London existing solely as a “playground”—the bars—or as a community that “needs saving.” She described how some students are hesitant to admit they are from Conn when they go downtown because of the way the school is viewed. Mattie Barber-Bockelman ‘16 expressed, “It’s strange that we’re restricted from living there even though there are places that are walkable from campus.” Barber-Bockelman added that the highway gives us a sort of excuse to write an entire community off as inaccessible.
Emma Weisberg ’16 talked about how interesting New London’s history is and how different it is from Mystic, a higher-income area that often draws comparisons. Though Mystic may seem like more of a quaint, New England town, New London receives unnecessary flack. New London does not function as a college town because it simply isn’t one. New London is a coastal city with a large artist community and ample opportunities to engage in a productive and interesting way, not only as college students, but as citizens as well.
When I started senior year, I decided to quit my church job. I hadn’t considered how much I would feel the loss of a community I had been a part of since school started. Though I appreciate the extra sleep each Sunday, remembering the feeling of acceptance off-campus is bittersweet. My job made it easy to involve myself downtown, and not having it reminds me how it is equally easy to stay on campus. Still, making the effort always proves fruitful. •
