I never go home for college break. Mostly because I’m already home. It’s one of the strange perks of living within walking distance to a four-year university.

Being both a local and a student has allowed me to have an interesting perspective and awareness to how others view my town.

My hometown is small. Its population consists of roughly 9,000 people as recorded by the 2010 U.S. Census and according to a 2015 enrollment report, the university provides an additional 5,700. Anyone that has ever lived in Frostburg would agree that even these numbers are optimistically high at best.

Born and raised in this town, I am aware of its duality, of its transformative nature. The dichotomy of sorts is shown between the quiet mountain town atmosphere in the summers and the energetic activity hub it becomes upon the college students’ arrival for the fall and spring semesters. Basically, it’s a completely different town depending on what season it is and if class is in session.

Growing up, the sounds and sights of the occasional nearby house party were normal and taking field trips in high school to see a theater production or a guest speaker on campus was routine. I’ve seen coeds sunbath on their roofs and I’ve seen makeshift Slip 'N' Slides and snow sleds be constructed out of trash bags and pizza boxes.

I have also seen some of the negative aspects that the university brings. I’ve had beer cans strewn across my front lawn, my mailbox has been smashed off its post on more than one occasion on a particularly rowdy night and every few years more discussion of crime takes place in tandem with the university’s increasing population.

The university’s presence has always been felt.

In the summer, one word that best describes the town is quiet. People often nod or say hello when passing on the street, open fields and farm lands are within driving distance and undoubtedly a trip to the market means running into someone who knows your parents or went to school with your siblings. Less people, and less reckless behavior and parties, helps attribute to the increased feeling of safety you’ll often hear locals talk about. Many FSU students never see this side.

Just when it feels like the town is getting too quiet or inactive, students arrive in the fall and with them a flurry of action and events as the university wakes up from its summer slumber and the cycle continues.

Unfortunately, there is a subtle, yet existing, divide between “locals” and “students;” a divide that I became all too aware of as I became subjected to both viewpoints. Neither of these viewpoints is entirely accurate and both offend at least part of my identity at different times; however, the view point that upsets me the most is the unfair judgement that students have passed on my hometown.

I am tired of hearing some students comment that this yet another party town for a party school.

I’ve watched the expression on the faces of some of my peers change after revealing that I live here fulltime. Their eyebrows generally disappear into their hairlines when I further reveal that my residence is located on a stereotyped “party street” and I’ve marveled at some people’s ability to reduce “local” into a four-letter word.

For me, criticisms on the town become much more personal.

I’m tired of hearing people complain there’s nothing to do.

There’s plenty to do, you just have to invest in the town and its people. Events aren’t just going to find you. I’ll admit that sometimes even my boredom gets the best of me, but that comes with the territory of being in a small town. If you wanted constant nightlife or stimulation you should have moved to the city, or attended a bigger university. There’s more to do than party.

I’m irritated when others assume that living on a “party street” has traumatized me.

Before becoming a college student myself, I didn’t associate with other students, because they weren’t my age. I didn’t attend off-campus parties. I didn’t run through the streets of Frostburg wild and untamed. Stop assuming I’m some wild child.

I’m extremely irked when others stereotype the locals or the area as uneducated and are “backwoods” people.

Stop assuming that the occasional dialectal difference in speech equates ignorance. Stop thinking that remote means completely removed. Stop assuming because I live here that my closet is full of camouflage and ripped jeans, and even if it was, (which it’s not) don’t make a general character assumption based on someone’s attire.

Lastly, I’m sick of others’ disregard or respect for the town.

The older I get, the more I cringe at the sight of beer-can-littered yards and dilapidated rental duplexes destroyed from too much partying; giving the impression that red solo cups are the tumble weeds of Frostburg. I get that students party and I’m not condemning that in the slightest, but be smart and responsible about it. A night out shouldn’t end in a bar fight or arrests, and not every house party needs to contribute to destruction. Of course, there’s always going to be occurrences of these things like any town, particularly a town that hosts a university, but it shouldn’t define us. It shouldn’t become so common that the incidents and the university’s presence negatively blankets the entire town.

I’m not just a member of the graduating class of 2016; I’m a member of this community. When you complain about this town or its people, you’re complaining about my home, my friends and my family.

These misconceptions aside, there are still many advantages to having a university in my hometown. The university’s presence has done tremendous for this once predominately coal mining town since it was first constructed in 1898. Not only does the university contribute to commerce, but it also provides the opportunity for global connections and has made the area more diverse: racially, ethnically and socio-economically. The town just simply wouldn’t be the same without the university.

I’m aware of my bias, but I’m immensely proud of my hometown and I’m thankful I chose to attend Frostburg State. My unique “local student” circumstance has given me the best of both worlds in allowing me to stay close to and in touch with family while still pursuing an education. It isn’t perfect, no place is, but it has given me humble roots while I took the time to grow some wings.

This town is home to some amazing people and the university has allowed me to meet and become friends with more incredible people in the form of peers and professors. I only hope that someday the gap and disconnect between students and locals can be bridged and the misconceptions others have about the town will occur less.

My hometown is different; it’s quirky, and not everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m hopeful that more students will take the chance to try a sip, momentarily put down their red solo cups and put the “college party town” labels to rest.