(no subject)
#21 Ashley Thompson
EU1
September 3rd, 2007
As a native of Hindman, Kentucky, my childhood memories are embedded in the poorly-paved, winding roads of a small town with only one traffic light. Directions can be given quite simply in this town, “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it!” Sure, this statement seems rather difficult to follow in such a high-paced, technologically advanced world; yet, this small town buried within a maze of the Appalachian Mountains has become my home.
Traveling back to my primary school days, shopping trips consisted of visits to the county seat. Pharmacies, retail stores, grocery stores, dry-cleaners, restaurants, and motels lined the well-worn streets. I can vaguely recollect this image. Today, all but one of these businesses are abandoned, dilapidated buildings. The street is left empty and quiet. Although the town may appear worthless and economically insignificant from a city-slicker’s perspective, I see a land rich in heritage, holding on to an almost forgotten culture. Rather than viewing the barren land that stretches for miles from house to house as empty space, I see every old man on a front porch, lowering his newspaper to wave hello to each passing car. I see the way each child giggles and blushes as someone implies that they’re “a spitting image of their mother.” When I step back and overlook my community, I see a love and respect for a simplistic, loving way of life that cannot be understood in a larger city.
However, Southeastern, Kentucky has been hindered and bounded by the many stereotypes that even we as natives tend to believe after time.
Let me begin with the accent. Now why is it that only the people of Southeastern, Kentucky suffer the ridicule, torment, and humiliation for their natural dialect? In reality, we ALL have accents, and quite frankly, we are just as uncomfortable with exaggerated vowel sounds and over-annunciated suffixes as a Northerner trying to decipher our jumbles of twang and double-negatives. I am very proud and appreciative of my sweet little southern accent, as it will be a piece of my heritage that I can carry wherever I may travel in this world. At times, someone will rudely question, “Where are you from?” I captured their attention, which is another plus to my “different,” accent. Bluegrass music is also native to the area, no, it is not the only music present; however, I am proud to say I would pull out my Martin and accompany anyone with a fiddle and a love for Mountain music. The Bluegrass generation is beginning to diminish, and I will proudly continue the tradition for the rest of my life.
Southeastern Kentuckians are inbred, uneducated rednecks. Firstly, I would like to state that I HOPE no one in Knott County is inbred. End of discussion. On the other hand, public Education in the mountains is definitely lacking. Frequent budget cuts and decrease of faculty have lowered the standardized tests scores of students in my area, creating the impression that we are not as intelligent as teenagers from another part of the state. I have sat through high school classes in which I was not even provided with an adequate textbook, and at times, not even a desk to sit in. It is truly devastating to know that I am being compared to students that have attended schools that provide laptop computers to every student, as well as all of the Advanced Placement courses necessary for reaching full potential. Statistics may not reflect the true potential of Southeastern Kentuckians, however, I do have faith in the intelligence of my people, and given the opportunity, we would shine just as brightly.
It is also common belief that every male in the area is destined to a career as a coal miner. I would never look down upon the coal industry, as black gold has been the foundation and pedestal on which whatever economy we’ve ever had has stood. Coal is what has always lured businesses and power companies to Eastern, Kentucky, and has placed roofs on our heads and food on our tables. Yet, I was recently astonished as many of my male peers turned down scholarships to credited universities, simply stating, “Forget that. I can make $14 an hour in the mines…now,” not realizing that a degree in Mining Engineering could fulfill so much more. Simply because their father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and so on slaved away underground, “sticking to their roots,” tends to be more important than reaching the full potential.
Many women of Southeastern, Kentucky are encaged by stereotypical boundaries as well. Most people assume we’ll either be married, pregnant, or possibly both by the time we’re out of high school…that is, if we actually graduate. Occasionally a female will attend the local community college, which happens to be thirty miles away, and come out with a nursing degree, forgetting the hopes she once had for being an actual doctor.
This is what depresses me about my hometown. When the opportunity is not in direct sight, we tend to pretend it isn’t there. Just as true Knott County natives pave their own roads by a four-wheeler on a deserted strip job, there comes a time in life when you must step outside the box and go after a better one.
Every child is constantly asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Without hesitation I would respond, “A doctor. I’m opening up a hospital here.” People would usually give a casual smile and respond, “That’s great. I’m sure you can do it,” with a hint of uncertainty. This lack of confidence is aroused from the astonishing number of high school graduates who take off to a large university, are trampled by culture shock, and return to the depths of Knott County in shame. I don’t want to be an addition to that statistic. Sure, not everyone is perfectly prepared to leave home straight out of high school; however, I do believe it was necessary for me to step away and achieve my degree in a larger area, not only to prove to my community that it can be done, but to prove it to myself.
It would be easy to remain in Knott County, spending my evenings driving up and down the only street, getting drunk on an abandoned strip job, or sitting at the local Exxon, talking to whoever stops by. That would be easy…too easy. Having a mother who is a local high school teacher and a politician for a father, I could have easily went to school back home, receiving good grades simply for my last name. That’s sad but true. It’s a part of that small-town way of life. I want to wake up tomorrow, realizing that no one knows, or even cares who I am, where I’m from, what I’m doing today or where I’m going tomorrow. My goal is to become something more; to make something out of myself, and perhaps this big city won’t feel so big anymore.
My parents seem to illustrate both ends of the spectrum. My mother, who was a touring Bluegrass musician for a large part of her life, once dreamed of making a career out of her passion. The discouragement and lack of opportunity in the area led her to “settle,” for teaching, although it wasn’t want she truly wanted. She works a mediocre job for inadequate pay, and raises six children somewhere in between. My father, on the other hand, came from working at Kentucky Fried Chicken to support his parents and siblings to being the first Republican to ever hold an office in Knott County, which is 98% Democratic. I’ve viewed firsthand the results of “settling,” for what seems reachable at the time, and the potential rewards of risking everything to pursue a dream.
At the moment, I’m a little girl from an even smaller town, thrown into a large city with dreams bigger than most could imagine. I want to change the way outsiders view Southeastern, Kentucky, as well as the way we natives view our hometown. Ultimately, I’d love to obtain a degree in Biology, attend medical school, and provide affordable and adequate healthcare to the struggling people back home. Many people leave Knott County, never to return. I could never turn my back on my heritage. I’m taking a risk now to preserve and brighten the future for my hometown.
My sophomore English teacher once told me, “You are the most difficult, stubborn, and self-assured student that I have ever met. You’ll do whatever you want to do in life, and I don’t want to see anything stop you.” Although it seemed harsh at the time, I’m finally starting to agree. Coming from such a small town has given me much to prove, and I’ve developed the motivation to chase after what I want, and let nothing stand in my way. I’ll trust until given a reason to lose trust, I’ll love others regardless of their actions. I’ll smile and speak to anyone in a true small-town fashion. It’s not being naïve; it’s living a life of love towards a neighbor. No matter where I end up later on in life, I’ll always know the way back to Knott County, I’ll keep a hint of my accent, and I’ll still have my place in my little Kentucky home. Right now, I’m showing that the stereotypes are wrong.
EU1
September 3rd, 2007
As a native of Hindman, Kentucky, my childhood memories are embedded in the poorly-paved, winding roads of a small town with only one traffic light. Directions can be given quite simply in this town, “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it!” Sure, this statement seems rather difficult to follow in such a high-paced, technologically advanced world; yet, this small town buried within a maze of the Appalachian Mountains has become my home.
Traveling back to my primary school days, shopping trips consisted of visits to the county seat. Pharmacies, retail stores, grocery stores, dry-cleaners, restaurants, and motels lined the well-worn streets. I can vaguely recollect this image. Today, all but one of these businesses are abandoned, dilapidated buildings. The street is left empty and quiet. Although the town may appear worthless and economically insignificant from a city-slicker’s perspective, I see a land rich in heritage, holding on to an almost forgotten culture. Rather than viewing the barren land that stretches for miles from house to house as empty space, I see every old man on a front porch, lowering his newspaper to wave hello to each passing car. I see the way each child giggles and blushes as someone implies that they’re “a spitting image of their mother.” When I step back and overlook my community, I see a love and respect for a simplistic, loving way of life that cannot be understood in a larger city.
However, Southeastern, Kentucky has been hindered and bounded by the many stereotypes that even we as natives tend to believe after time.
Let me begin with the accent. Now why is it that only the people of Southeastern, Kentucky suffer the ridicule, torment, and humiliation for their natural dialect? In reality, we ALL have accents, and quite frankly, we are just as uncomfortable with exaggerated vowel sounds and over-annunciated suffixes as a Northerner trying to decipher our jumbles of twang and double-negatives. I am very proud and appreciative of my sweet little southern accent, as it will be a piece of my heritage that I can carry wherever I may travel in this world. At times, someone will rudely question, “Where are you from?” I captured their attention, which is another plus to my “different,” accent. Bluegrass music is also native to the area, no, it is not the only music present; however, I am proud to say I would pull out my Martin and accompany anyone with a fiddle and a love for Mountain music. The Bluegrass generation is beginning to diminish, and I will proudly continue the tradition for the rest of my life.
Southeastern Kentuckians are inbred, uneducated rednecks. Firstly, I would like to state that I HOPE no one in Knott County is inbred. End of discussion. On the other hand, public Education in the mountains is definitely lacking. Frequent budget cuts and decrease of faculty have lowered the standardized tests scores of students in my area, creating the impression that we are not as intelligent as teenagers from another part of the state. I have sat through high school classes in which I was not even provided with an adequate textbook, and at times, not even a desk to sit in. It is truly devastating to know that I am being compared to students that have attended schools that provide laptop computers to every student, as well as all of the Advanced Placement courses necessary for reaching full potential. Statistics may not reflect the true potential of Southeastern Kentuckians, however, I do have faith in the intelligence of my people, and given the opportunity, we would shine just as brightly.
It is also common belief that every male in the area is destined to a career as a coal miner. I would never look down upon the coal industry, as black gold has been the foundation and pedestal on which whatever economy we’ve ever had has stood. Coal is what has always lured businesses and power companies to Eastern, Kentucky, and has placed roofs on our heads and food on our tables. Yet, I was recently astonished as many of my male peers turned down scholarships to credited universities, simply stating, “Forget that. I can make $14 an hour in the mines…now,” not realizing that a degree in Mining Engineering could fulfill so much more. Simply because their father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and so on slaved away underground, “sticking to their roots,” tends to be more important than reaching the full potential.
Many women of Southeastern, Kentucky are encaged by stereotypical boundaries as well. Most people assume we’ll either be married, pregnant, or possibly both by the time we’re out of high school…that is, if we actually graduate. Occasionally a female will attend the local community college, which happens to be thirty miles away, and come out with a nursing degree, forgetting the hopes she once had for being an actual doctor.
This is what depresses me about my hometown. When the opportunity is not in direct sight, we tend to pretend it isn’t there. Just as true Knott County natives pave their own roads by a four-wheeler on a deserted strip job, there comes a time in life when you must step outside the box and go after a better one.
Every child is constantly asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Without hesitation I would respond, “A doctor. I’m opening up a hospital here.” People would usually give a casual smile and respond, “That’s great. I’m sure you can do it,” with a hint of uncertainty. This lack of confidence is aroused from the astonishing number of high school graduates who take off to a large university, are trampled by culture shock, and return to the depths of Knott County in shame. I don’t want to be an addition to that statistic. Sure, not everyone is perfectly prepared to leave home straight out of high school; however, I do believe it was necessary for me to step away and achieve my degree in a larger area, not only to prove to my community that it can be done, but to prove it to myself.
It would be easy to remain in Knott County, spending my evenings driving up and down the only street, getting drunk on an abandoned strip job, or sitting at the local Exxon, talking to whoever stops by. That would be easy…too easy. Having a mother who is a local high school teacher and a politician for a father, I could have easily went to school back home, receiving good grades simply for my last name. That’s sad but true. It’s a part of that small-town way of life. I want to wake up tomorrow, realizing that no one knows, or even cares who I am, where I’m from, what I’m doing today or where I’m going tomorrow. My goal is to become something more; to make something out of myself, and perhaps this big city won’t feel so big anymore.
My parents seem to illustrate both ends of the spectrum. My mother, who was a touring Bluegrass musician for a large part of her life, once dreamed of making a career out of her passion. The discouragement and lack of opportunity in the area led her to “settle,” for teaching, although it wasn’t want she truly wanted. She works a mediocre job for inadequate pay, and raises six children somewhere in between. My father, on the other hand, came from working at Kentucky Fried Chicken to support his parents and siblings to being the first Republican to ever hold an office in Knott County, which is 98% Democratic. I’ve viewed firsthand the results of “settling,” for what seems reachable at the time, and the potential rewards of risking everything to pursue a dream.
At the moment, I’m a little girl from an even smaller town, thrown into a large city with dreams bigger than most could imagine. I want to change the way outsiders view Southeastern, Kentucky, as well as the way we natives view our hometown. Ultimately, I’d love to obtain a degree in Biology, attend medical school, and provide affordable and adequate healthcare to the struggling people back home. Many people leave Knott County, never to return. I could never turn my back on my heritage. I’m taking a risk now to preserve and brighten the future for my hometown.
My sophomore English teacher once told me, “You are the most difficult, stubborn, and self-assured student that I have ever met. You’ll do whatever you want to do in life, and I don’t want to see anything stop you.” Although it seemed harsh at the time, I’m finally starting to agree. Coming from such a small town has given me much to prove, and I’ve developed the motivation to chase after what I want, and let nothing stand in my way. I’ll trust until given a reason to lose trust, I’ll love others regardless of their actions. I’ll smile and speak to anyone in a true small-town fashion. It’s not being naïve; it’s living a life of love towards a neighbor. No matter where I end up later on in life, I’ll always know the way back to Knott County, I’ll keep a hint of my accent, and I’ll still have my place in my little Kentucky home. Right now, I’m showing that the stereotypes are wrong.