For students in the throws of the spring semester, coming back to campus after break can feel like entering another world. For some of us, the work never stopped and our hometowns are simply a change of scenery.
Returning home often simulates a bit of whiplash, especially when it’s sandwiched between a long to-do list.
However, on a campus like the University of Tennessee, hometowns can be a tricky thing. We’ve all trained ourselves with some kind of response in small talk about our backgrounds. But it’s hard to convey a place like a hometown to someone who might have never even heard of it.
“Where are you from?” seems like a fairly straightforward question, but I always hesitate to answer. My response is less trained than others.
I’m not from Knoxville, but I’m not from anywhere far out either. In fact, my hometown is just a single county over, so I tend to alternate my answers depending on who I’m talking to.
For those more local, I might mention my town more specifically, mentioning a few landmarks to direct them to the place I’ve called home for so long. For those less familiar with rural East Tennessee, however, I tend to settle on something more central to Knoxville.
Sure, I did grow up venturing to Knoxville for anything I needed that the local Walmart couldn’t provide, but I remember how little I am from Knoxville every time I go home for break.
The space between home and campus can feel like a long chasm, no matter the real distance between the two. Whether it be the people belonging to each location, the culture or simply the surroundings, campus tends to form a bubble around us that shuts off much of the outside world.
When I go back to my hometown, I almost can’t believe that I ever left. The same houses adorn street corners and the fields change with the seasons as they always have, reminding me of how permanent a place like “home” can feel and how lucky I am to experience it.
There’s always one or two things that jut out from this usual familiarity. I hear about a new Dutch Bros being put in on the main street, something that used to feel so “big city” to me, or maybe about someone I knew from high school recently getting married.
The most disorienting part of being back in my hometown is when “home” gains another meaning. I find myself mentioning the word in reference to my on-campus dorm rather than the room I grew up in, an act of betrayal to my nostalgic tendencies.
This is always followed by a pause, a freeze in my demeanor, as I look up to see if anyone caught my slip up. It’s almost worse when no one questions it. Is my hometown truly my home now?
My short-lived identity crisis usually ends when I return to the Knoxville bubble. I fall back into academics and the chaos of the spring semester, focusing on the release of weekends rather than the subconscious pull to return “home.”
Everyone has different connections to where they grew up, whether that be in one place or many, but I think remnants of this odd feeling will always linger as we try to find our way through a higher education and onward.
For now, though, I’ll keep this nostalgia close to heart as a reminder that my hometown will always be there, even if I find it in the people I love more than the place itself.
Sadie Self is a sophomore at UT this year studying journalism and media. She can be reached at [email protected].
Columns and letters of The Daily Beacon are the views of the individual and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Beacon or the Beacon’s editorial staff.
