notes on a town

Before I dive in to the high school drama surrounding religious images and students' rights, I thought I should begin at the beginning: just what is it about New Concord?

While I was describing the issues to a student of mine, she said "Nothing bad ever happens there, and everyone is so nice." New Concord is our Mayberry, our Pleasantville. It's a quaint college town on the outskirts of Appalachia. And everyone is so nice.

Except the person who robbed the drug store at gun-point last year. True, that sort of thing seems a lot more frequent in a place like New York City; everyone asked me "aren't you scared about moving there?" I think this is true of all rural areas; we have this delusion that crime only happens in cities. That there is an invisible barrier between us and the gangsters and drug dealers and burglars. It was last year that I really (really) missed having my dog Zeke around, because there were several burglaries in the little town near the farm. Zeke would have bitten a burglar's legs off to protect me, and I missed that reassurance. I find it really strange how "country" it is to have dogs around, to have guns in the house for protection, then in a brilliant moment of cognitive dissonance, to assert that nothing bad happens here because we're country folk. We obviously feel the need to prepare for something. 

The security director at the campus where I teach made this very important point: banish all thoughts of New Concord as a real-life Pleasantville from your mind. Do it now! Have you seen the film titled Pleasantville? What is pleasant is not always pleasing. 

Aside from having a magnificent soundtrack, the film is very instructive for people trying to understand what is going on in New Concord. It, like Pleasantville, is a place where tradition reigns, and change is frowned upon. And I'm not talking about new construction--with the university on the hill and the new bank on the corner, cosmetic change is welcomed, so long as it's clad in quaintness and ornamental brick. As a kid, it really did feel like the end of Main Street looped back to the beginning again. An endless loop of small town goodness. A loop I was, as a country kid, often excluded from. Sometimes it takes an outsider, though, to make things happen.

What happens to Pleasantville? Outsiders change it from black & white to color. From conformity to diversity. From narrow-mindedness to open-mindedness. I think that same change can happen in New Concord, but not if grown men and women get their panties in bunches over a student questioning a picture of Jesus. Not if they call her un-American or tell her to get out.

Now, the people saying these things are not necessarily from New Concord. But New Concord residents who care about what is going on in their community ought to ask themselves why there is such an aggressive reaction to the question "Should a public school have a religious image on the wall?" Fear. The knowledge that you and your sect are not in complete control. Yet in their anger and fear, as in the film, they show their true colors. If only she'd be quiet, right? If only she's stop making a scene, everything could stay the same.

Will taking the picture down negate all that is actually good about the community? No. And allowing students to debate (in a civil manner) controversial issues doesn't take away from the fact that New Concord is a pretty good place in which to grow up. The debate will make it better. It will diminish the false pretenses that rural communities are in these protective bubbles that liberal secular elitists are trying to pop. No, you don't live in a vacuum. Sorry.

The idea of Pleasantville is dependent upon conformity, and conformity cannot coexist with American liberty. The process of breaking down conformity is painful, I know, and those most discomforted by change will fight back with unkind words and judgments. I pity them for using Christianity as a shield. I'm disappointed in them for showing a young adult such disrespect. Above all, I admire the student for attempting what I could never do.