Not All That Glitters Is Gold

            They tell you to go to college to follow your dreams. “They” is your family, friends, teachers, community, and everyone in life who has impacted it in one way or another. It’s the people who tell you that you’re not going to be successful without a college education so they tell you to find something you love, learn as much as you can, and practice it every day for the rest of your life.

            Growing up it seems that everyone wants to be involved in the sports world somehow. Most boys, and some girls too, dream of becoming sports broadcasters, professional players, or somehow tied to that world.

            I was one of them. I had dreams of being a sports writer for as long as I can remember. In high school, while I was writing for the local newspaper and beginning my career, I had a lot of support. Random strangers would recognize my face from the paper and say that they liked my article or I was doing a good job. Coaches would tell me it was refreshing to see a pretty, female face in the sports department. Players were amazed I was their age or younger, yet writing about them so they could read their name in the paper the next day. I loved it, every aspect.

            While I was looking at colleges, I was solely focused on journalism schools. I wanted to become the best of the best and make my way to the top. Granted, being a female in a male dominated profession was going to be tough, but I was up for the challenge.

            When I toured Syracuse University, I fell in love with the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. It was the #1 journalism school in the country and I knew that if I could get in, I would be able to unlock doors so many other people would never even be able to imagine.

            Newhouse was the only school I applied to. Yes, I took the risk and only applied to one school. But I did get in. I was a part of the 9% who were admitted to the 2013 Newhouse freshmen class.

 My first class of my college career was an intro class to all of the different communications majors that Newhouse offered. You could feel the greatness of Newhouse when you walked in its doors. I made my way to my lecture, took a seat towards the front, and looked around. The other 119 kids that I sat amongst were too part of this elite group.

            I quickly discovered what it was like to be a Newhouse student at SU.

            When you introduced yourself to other students and they asked what school you were in at SU and you replied Newhouse, there were usually two responses. From my fellow Newhouse students, they would be overjoyed to meet “one of their own.” They would ask what clubs or organizations you were in or were planning on joining.  Every current event possible was free game for discussion or they would try to engage you in some sort of stimulating conversation about a topic that nine out of ten times I had no idea what they were talking about.

            Now if they were not Newhouse students. You were usually asked why you were talking to them then. “You’re too good for us,” was a phrase I heard many times in the first few weeks.

            Is this really what this school was like? Why did it hold this prestigious recognition in the country, but on its own campus, my fellow students couldn’t stand me?

            Nevertheless, the semester went on.

            I had two Newhouse classes my first semester. My intro to Newhouse professor liked to talk about herself, a lot. Her PhD, how she was from Florida and it was so much nicer to live there than Syracuse, her prior experience as a lawyer, and I could probably dedicate the rest of this blog to random, pointless shit I know about this lady, but I’ll spare you.

I went to her office hours only once because I’m not one of those students who suck up to her professors. I went this particular time because I didn’t do as well as I thought I did on an exam and she really encouraged us to come to go over the test and ask questions. I knocked on her door and she invited me in without looking up from what she was doing. I introduced myself and she told me to take a seat. She handed me my test and an answer key and said she didn’t have time for me right now because she had other things to do. I was confused because she practically begged us to come to her office hours and now she didn’t have time? I didn’t even look at my test; I simply walked out of her office and never looked back.

            My other Newhouse class was grammar. Now I took grammar in high school, and although I’m from the backwoods, my mom was an English major in college and has her master’s so she always made sure to correct me and teach me proper English so I didn’t talk like a hick. Therefore, I like to think I have a relatively good grasp on the language. I couldn’t figure out if this class was a way to scare me out of Newhouse, or just a complete joke. I’m thinking like many other things that involve this school, it was the latter. This particular professor made powerpoints and videos about her dog to somehow teach about grammar. And she was writing her own book for the class. Props to her for writing the book, but I had to pay $80 for this online book and she was writing it as the class progressed so there were many weeks where she would forget to post the chapters or they were posted well after we took a test. The icing on top of the cake though was when we were supposed to take a test for her class and usually my rule is, if a professor is 20 minutes late for class I leave. Well this day since we were to take our midterm I decided to stick around, 45 minutes into our hour and fifteen minute class she walks in, with her dog no less, and asked if we got her email. She said that her dog was having too much fun at the park and she just couldn’t pull her away. Seriously? I’m paying thousands of dollars to sit in a professor-less class because your stupid dog is at the park?

            As if my problems with professors weren’t enough, there was my run in with the assistant dean - multiple times.

            Despite my first two Newhouse classes giving me bad feelings about the school, I still wanted to be a sports writer. I thought the best way to do this was to double major in journalism and sport management. I talked to everyone in the sport management school I needed to talk to. They said that me coming in with 21 credits from high school and being a good student would definitely help and they’d love to have me in their program. I was told to be able to do this I’d have to make an appointment with the assistant dean of Newhouse and get her signature. So I did.

            I barely had a chance to get the words out of my mouth when she told me it probably wouldn’t be possible since the sport management core curriculum wasn’t the same as the Newhouse one. I explained how I came in with credits and had talked to multiple people in the other school, as well as a professor in Newhouse who was a former sports editor for a few major papers and everyone said it was going to work.

            She told me my dreams were stupid and maybe I should rethink another major and future job.

            Excuse me?

            The assistant DEAN of the #1 journalism school in the country told me my dreams were stupid? I had a lot I wanted to say to her but I was stunned. I never had anyone tell me to my face that my dreams were stupid. I grew up in a loving and supporting family and community where I was always taught to follow my dreams.

            I never cry, and if I do something is truly wrong. But when I left that lady’s office I broke down and called my dad. He told me to forget what she said, find a loophole, and if I wanted it badly enough to continue to go after my dreams, whatever they may be and however crazy they may seem.

            The semester progressed and every day I questioned whether I still wanted to be a sports writer. Maybe I should continue with my journalism degree, and find a way to be a sports writer without the sport management degree? Or maybe I should give up on sports writing in general. I mean, I was just a young girl who knew a lot about sports and liked to write. What made me think I could actually write for Sports Illustrated someday? Every day seemed like a constant battle of my dreams versus reality of what my future held.

At the end of the fall semester I was walking to take my final at Newhouse and there was graffiti on the building. I thought nothing of it because Newhouse people are usually artsy anyway and I was more focused on my final. I figured it was an advertisement or something someone did for a project. It wasn’t until I was walking out of the final that I really took a good look at it. “#1 in communication, LAST in free speech.” The more I thought about it, the more I agreed. I wrote something towards the beginning of the semester that didn’t paint the school in the picture-perfect light it’s grown accustomed to portraying, I was told to change it. That’s not how freedom of speech is supposed to work. For a school that won’t let you graduate until you can recite the First Amendment word for word, and that calls the First Amendment the foundation of its school, it’s very hypocritical. “Liars live here, are you one?” was also spray painted on the ground outside of one of the Newhouse buildings. As I was leaving campus to head home for Christmas vacation, I continued to think about it. Liars. That’s what I felt like when I was in Newhouse. The atmosphere was suffocating. I wasn’t a liar. I was not about to compromise my beliefs and writing because it didn’t fit the cookie-cutter mold the school wanted to exemplify. I was always taught to be honest and tell the truth. And even if that truth doesn’t paint things in the best light, or it may hurt someone’s feelings along the way, I have always been one to tell the truth anyway. This graffiti made me think of my own moral character and question why I was still part of a school that was restricting me and trying to change who I was.

            When I came back from winter break I decided to give the school another chance. Maybe I just took some of the wrong classes and got off to a bad start with the people at Newhouse?

At the very beginning of second semester I had to change a lab time for one of my classes. The lady in the astronomy department was very helpful and told me I just had to fill out a slip of paper. Leave it to Newhouse though to make sure nothing is simple. I got an email that they wouldn’t process my request because I didn’t fill out proper paperwork and get enough signatures. It’s not like I was trying to change classes, my major, schools, anything. I was only switching from one lab time to another.

            I also went to talk to my academic advisor the beginning of second semester to see where I stood and if I could double major in business. I figured if my sport management/journalism major was going to be shot down, a double degree in journalism and business was practical. She made me go through hell telling me that I didn’t pick the right classes and asking me when I thought I was going to apply to the business school because my grades probably wouldn’t get me in and neither would my lack of extracurricular activities. (Apparently a 3.3 GPA and member of the equestrian team meant absolutely nothing). I told her this was something I really wanted and asked for assistance. I also needed her to sign off on an ROTC paper for me. It was simply a list of my classes, yet she told me she wasn’t going to sign anything that was government controlled without first reviewing it. So I sat there for 20 minutes as she critiqued my class decisions and then told me at the end that becoming a member of ROTC wasn’t going to benefit me scholastically. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman trying to tell me how to live my life. I told her it wasn’t any of her business and she called me an ungrateful brat for not thanking her for her help. I had a few choice words for her and flipped a chair as I walked out of her office. I know that wasn’t a smart thing to do. I should have kept my mouth shut, thanked her for her time, and walked out. But I didn’t know what it was about people in that building that thought they were God’s gift to mankind.

            Things change and people change.

            I know that school certainly changed me.

            The more I thought about being a sports reporter, the more I didn’t want to. Not only had the faculty and staff of Newhouse crushed my dreams, but I don’t think morally I could be a sports reporter or even a reporter in general. Did I really want to go up to a coach after he lost the World Series and ask him why he thought his team lost? It was bad enough they lost; yet there I’d be rubbing it in and making him feel worse. Or did I want to be the one who had to interview an NFL player who was deemed not guilty of murder when the world knew he was? “Please tell me how you feel knowing you got away with murder because you’re an NFL player and can pay anybody off and have the legal backing to do whatever you please.”

            And from personal experience, I saw what it was like to have reporters go after people you love. I sure didn’t want that.

            I’m too opinionated, and I have a heart.

            When I decided to switch from a journalism to psychology major my parents really questioned my decision. I had busted my ass to get into Newhouse and here I was leaving because a few people had made it hard for me.

It was more than that though.  Those few people who didn’t have time for me and didn’t show me I cared in one semester were going to make it miserable for me in the remaining seven of my college career. They showed me that in Newhouse you’re just a number, but if you go on and do big things they’re going to take credit for it and make it known you were a Newhouse prodigy.

            Switching out of that school was one of the best decisions I ever made. Anytime I tell people around campus I was formerly a Newhouse student and transferred out, people judge me. I probably could have sold my spot there and made enough to pay for the rest of my college career.

            A piece of paper with a certain name on it doesn’t mean that much to me though. Neither does the lying, conniving, backstabbing, drama, and arrogance that surrounds the Newhouse school.

            Now I think back to what my dad told me freshman year when he said don’t let anyone get in my way of following my dreams, no matter how crazy they are. Getting into Newhouse was a dream, and I proved I could do it. Now leaving that school behind is helping me follow my real dreams in life. Ones that are bigger and better than anything that school could have ever provided me.

           

            So this is for you Newhouse. This is me expressing my First Amendment right of freedom of speech, which is what you preach; yet you don’t practice. I have the right to say what I want without you covering it up because it makes you look bad. Thanks for helping me figure myself out and I won’t miss you.

Thank God For Hometowns

            When I was trying to think of something to blog about because I’ve been slacking lately, a friend at school suggested writing a type of travel guide to where I grew up. I think I offended her a little when I laughed in her face. I didn’t mean to, but a travel guide isn’t needed for my sleepy little town.

            Nonetheless, I thought it would be fun, even if it was a little short.

Welcome to the Brockway borough's dam
(best water ever, and no I'm not bias
just because my boyfriend works there)

            So welcome to my little town of Brockway, Pennsylvania! Home to about 2200 people and not close to anything! When I tell people where I’m from, I usually say a small town in western PA then launch into what it’s closest to since they’ve usually never heard of Brockway. I’m two hours north of Pittsburgh, an hour west of Penn State, and two hours south of Erie.

            I’m from western PA, much different from what people outside of the state think. I’m a fan of Pittsburgh sports, live nowhere near Philly, and prefer Sheetz to Wawa. It’s also called pop, not soda.

            When people jokingly talk about the stereotypical small town they might as well be describing my one-stoplight hometown.

I can name all 45 people I graduated with and could probably still recognize their handwriting. Seeing someone ride through town on a tractor isn’t a big deal and you wave as you pass them (usually it’s my uncle). Sneaking out of the house was easy when I was young, the hard part was avoiding seeing someone who would tell my parents I was out.

One of the biggest shocks when I moved to college was we didn’t receive the Monday after Thanksgiving off of school. I’ve never had to go to school on that day because even if the schools in my area were open, no one would go because they’re all out in the woods on the opening day of buck season.

            I’ve lived in the same house in the same town for 20 years and I can still only list a handful of streets and where they are located. I give directions by landmarks and who lives where and my friends know what I mean.

The only traffic jam you will ever experience in Brockway is trying to get out of the football field parking lot on a Friday night, or attempting to drive around town on the 4^th of July.

The 4^th of July in Brockway is a big deal. It is the most anticipated day of the year and people joke that it’s when Brockway’s population goes from 2200 to 22,000. Family, friends, and strangers pour in from all over to attend the festivities on the fourth. Because of how I grew up celebrating the Fourth in Brockway and because I absolutely love America, it is hands down my favorite holiday. Now before I get carried away dreaming of the Fourth and reminiscing of past celebrations, without further ado, a travel guide to Brockway, PA.

Paula was one of the most fun
bosses I ever worked for

The Rocky Grill has changed so much since my childhood. I can still remember going there with my family and stealing sips of my dad’s grasshopper when I thought he wasn’t looking. And every year a few weeks before Christmas we would rent out the back room as an entire family and have my grandpa and uncle’s birthday party. We’d karaoke together as a family and enjoy each other’s company. The best thing about the Grill is that I can go there for a quick lunch during the summer while I’m working. Or I can stop in before a football game to grab a burger and wings, but it was also the number one spot to eat prom dinner and take pictures on the steps.  Today the Grill is under new management and I had the privilege of working there for a year before I left for school. I had such a wonderful time and met so many amazing people with incredible stories. I was sad when I heard it was sold again, but it stands as a landmark in our town as it’s been passed from owner to owner.

Nothing beats a buffalo chicken
calazone from Paesano's

If I’m talking food, I had to group some of my other favorite places into the mix. Paesano’s is the best place around if you’re looking for a hoagie (especially Italian ones with extra peppers!). The BP Inn is a favorite hangout of my brother and his friends so I don’t frequent it nearly as often so as to not embarrass him, but it’s still a great place to get pizza and wings. Scottish Heights has some of the most creative dishes I’ve ever eaten, and it’s a fun atmosphere because there is always live entertainment even if you’re not one for golfing.

Brockway may be small, but a few years ago we were blessed with two amazing educational opportunities. The first was the Brockway Center for Arts and Technology. At BCAT, anyone has the chance to train for real jobs in the area such as a pharmacy technician or medical assistant. Or else they can get involved with the art aspect of the program through ceramics.  The other was Butler County Community College. Both are giving people of all ages a chance to enrich their learning experience right from town.

            The Fire hall. Some of the best memories from my childhood came from the carnival they hosted for a week during the summer. I also always get my money’s worth at its all you can eat pancake breakfast the Sunday after thanksgiving.

Always repin' the red and black

            Although I’m not an alum of dear old Brockway high, it still holds a special place in my heart. My friends who graduated the same year as me from Brockway like to call me their honorary classmate and I’m already invited to the BHS class of 2013 reunion. There are so many wonderful teachers I know who work here, and I cannot wait to send my kids to BHS someday.

Johnny and I at Joey's
Confirmation mass

It felt wrong to write a blog about Brockway and not include St. Tobias. Most people in my town identify themselves as Italian and Catholic, and that really is the truth. If you don’t get to Christmas Eve mass at least 30 minutes early, there is no way you’re going to get a seat. I was baptized, received my first communion, and confirmed here, and I’m sure my children will be too.

My beloved frozen hot chocolate (no
whipped cream and extra chocolate)

            Sheetz is wonderful. Sheetz is life. Your life is truly not complete until you’ve gone to one. I calculated once that I have been at a Sheetz at one point or another during all 24 hours of the day. There is nothing better than a frozen hot chocolate to curb your sweet tooth, mac and cheese bites for a quick snack, or a 3:00 AM walking taco to cure the munchies. (I swear I am not a representative for Sheetz, but as much as I market its products I really could be!) What non-PA people don’t quite understand is how a gas station can also double as people’s favorite fast-food stop. I remember when Sheetz only sold made to order hoagies. Now it takes me 10 minutes or more to order because the menu has anything you can possibly imagine.  

I aspire to be half as
amazing as Angel someday

            My favorite store and staffed by some of the sweetest people I’ve ever met is Hepler’s Country Store. If I walk in I have to have one specific item in mind and vow I will not buy anything else or I would walk out with half the store and completely broke. The owner, Angel, is also one of the most genuine, friendliest, sweetest, and down to earth women I have ever met. I love going in just to chat with her about life. She makes shopping fun (and that’s saying a lot because there is absolutely nothing I hate more than shopping). I don’t think I could have survived two years at Syracuse University if it wasn’t for her making sure I had the warmest boots and down-coat known to man.

            Speaking of Hepler’s, another place in Brockway that I have not had the opportunity to grace my business with yet, but it’s coming soon, is Hepler’s Beer Distributor. To those of you who don’t know, PA still doesn’t allow beer to be sold in convenience or grocery stores (hopefully soon!). That doesn’t mean I haven’t been to Hepler’s quite a few times with my dad to stock the beer fridge. In 175 days, they’ll see me often when I come to be a regular customer.

Glass Plant 19

            Believe it or not, Brockway use to be a booming town. The Brockway Glass Company was founded in 1907 and put the town on the map. At one time it was the second largest glass manufacturer in the world, and we were known as Glass Town USA. Brockway Glass eventually merged with Owens-Illinois, but the two glass plants in town are still running. My parents still talk about the long hours they worked at the plant during the summer, and many people I know still work there today. Even though the headquarters is no longer in Brockway, it is still a major employer in the area.

            Some other major employers are Guardian Elder Care and Phoenix Sintered Metals. When I was young, during the summer my dad use to bring me to work at Guardian every now and then. Even when I go out there today and see the people who have been working there for years they always tell me stories of all the “work” I use to do. Since I’ve grown up (at least a little) and gotten a big girl job, I’ve moved on to spend my summers at Phoenix. Last year, and even over Christmas break I had a blast working at the powdered metal factory. It is one of the neatest processes to see powder be made into little parts that are crucial components to things such as guns, engines, ATVs, snow mobiles, and the list seems endless. 

Now I'm lucky enough to share my
time at the park with my baby brother

Yes, I stupidly biked 36 miles
   with absolutely no training

A place that I spent countless hours of my childhood was the park and baseball fields. I played softball for quite a few years and I still go down to the fields to watch my younger brother play. When I was in junior high, the park was the cool hangout to be with your friends after school. As I walk by there today, I see kids still doing the same thing we use to, wondering what life will be like when they’re older and living with such a carefree attitude. Right next to the park and ball fields is rails to trails. It was once the Buffalo-Pittsburgh railroad, and has since been made into the perfect path for running, biking, and walking. Last summer my best friend and I even biked the entire way to the next town over (36 miles total!). A creek runs alongside part of the trail too and it’s great for fishing and canoeing. If you go down far enough there is an old swinging bridge and rope swing too.

Reminiscing on my senior year
as the football ball girl

Walter has been working at
the football field for 23 years
(he also swears this is his last
but has been saying that for
awhile now!)

            Kenny Chesney’s song “The Boys of Fall” might as well been written about Brockway. The football field is a symbol of our town and holds a special place in my heart because it has been dedicated in memory of my grandpa. I can still remember my seventh birthday, my cousins and I were out on the field on a windy night as we revealed the tarp covering the scoreboard after the moment of silence in his name. I know my grandpa is smiling down on the football field every fall Friday night. When he helped build the original one, he named it the “Field of Dreams.” He’d be so proud of how beautiful and well maintained it’s always kept thanks to the legendary Walter.

            Some people hate being restricted to such a little town because they have big city dreams. I can respect that. Even people in my family have moved away, hoping to pursue something bigger in life. I can’t imagine that though? Even being a few hours away at school, I miss the peace and quiet and the familiarity that Brockway offers. I cannot wait to be done with school, move back home and raise a family in my little town. It’s my hometown and I would not be anywhere near the person I am today if it wasn’t for growing up in Brockway.