Like fellow northern woodsman Paul Bunyan, Colby College students are subject to larger-than-life stereotypes. There are the “
J. Crew models from New England who were rejected by Middlebury” and the “
hard-core granola crunchers who want to save the world,” recites one freshman. “
We all party hard and are capable of winning the Ironman triathlon,” and—in a refrain familiar to any Colby student—“
are from 20 minutes outside of Boston.” But this “Little Ivy” in the depths of Maine is more than just the sum of its stereotypes, and it's been working hard to strengthen its liberal-arts reputation while preserving the unique community it has fostered over the last century. “
That seems to be emblematic of my experience with Colby as a whole: We are new,” writes a freshman. “
A new academic respect and recognition, new buildings and building projects, and a new image.” The constant friction between the old traditions and new ideas can divide the community (students report “
criticism [of Colby’s administration] is rampant”), but, says one sophomore, “
the people who do end up staying here love it to death and will defend it always."
"
The best part about Colby is its size," writes a sophomore, with a small community of fewer than 2,000 undergraduates. Indeed, at Colby, it’s practically impossible to blend into the woodwork, especially in classes, where “
professors want to know your name,” reports a freshman. Colby has chosen to refine and deepen its focus on a traditional liberal arts curriculum over the years, attracting open, intellectual pupils more intent on stretching their minds than preparing for future bank. “
Students are interested in what we're learning but aren't all caught up in GPA competition,” says a sophomore in the psychology department. They might spend half their weekends on the ski slopes or playing Beer Die (which was invented at Colby, according to school lore), but “
most are closet studiers, who pretend to throw caution to the wind and then spend hours studying,” says one freshman. “
I spend the majority of my time, during tundra season, in ‘The Street,' the corridor below Miller Library,” admits a music major, and he’s hardly the only one who turns to studying to pass the long Maine winter.
Small classes are standard, with few lectures larger than 60 participants. And professors are intent on reaching out to students beyond the classroom. “
The best thing about Colby is the professors!” raves a senior. “
They don't just see their students as grades in a grade book - we're real people to them, and it is not at all uncommon for a professor to attend students' concerts and games or invite the majors in their department over for dinner.”
Once described as “
a J. Crew catalogue with a hangover,” Colby students may not all be the same, but the kind of people who can appreciate Colby’s unique location, community, and education tend to fall into a couple of different categories, according to observers. “
From my experience there are many Colbys,” writes a freshman. “
Of course, there are the pearled-and-plaid weekend warriors (the last rallying cry from our no-longer existent fraternities), but there is also a huge eco-activist/outdoors population (read: cult) and small but vibrant international population.”
But while the occasional outsider might wind up feeling like a bit of an “
oddball,” there is actually “
a fair amount of social diversity, in that mostly anyone can find a niche,” says one freshman. “
I would be lying if I didn't admit that rich, preppy WASPS from New England comprise a large percentage of our student body,” admits a senior, “
but once on the hill, a lot of these differences fade into the background.” Even dining halls and dorms tend to be dominated by either “crunchy” or “preppy” subsets (like the green dorm and vegan- and vegetarian-friendly Foss dining hall, or “Frat Row,” where students yearning for
Animal House can pretend Colby didn’t do away with Greek organizations decades ago), but in the end, the small size of the community keeps inter-clique rivalries from getting in the way…with a few exceptions. “
People are even accepting of the one or two Republicans who happen to reside on campus,” writes one student, although "
they are rarely seen in Foss, because ninety percent of the people who eat there have copies of the Communist Manifesto on their nightstands.”
While “
you can find kids drinking literally every night of the week,” according to a sophomore, the social calendar is a little more complex. Many students are outdoors enthusiasts and make the hour-long drive to Sugarloaf and other snow-covered spots on a regular basis. Colby’s Outing Club is actually one of the largest student organizations on campus, “
[renting] out equipment like tents and snowshoes,” as well as organizing weekend getaways and the annual freshman outdoors orientation trips.
The closest town, Waterville, offers a handful of coffee shops, stores, and restaurants, but some students consider the town “sketchy” and prefer to stay inside Colby’s "
'bubble' on the Hill.” And there’s plenty to do there—“
It snows here for about roughly 50% of the time we're on campus, so we've mastered indoor evening activities,” writes one student. Campus groups keep a constant rotation of speakers, music, and social events coming during the weekends, and drama and music productions are “
pretty damn fun,” according to one junior. While a good portion of the student population plays a sport, whether varsity or intramural (“iplay”), attendance at actual games is pretty sparse…except for hockey match-ups, particularly those against Colby’s Maine rivals Bowdoin and Bates Colleges, where “
everyone goes… with painted faces and such.” As for Colby’s hard-drinking reputation—well, “
partying is a pretty significant part of the social scene at Colby,” says one sophomore. But raging parties are a rarity, as most prefer “
just…hanging out in a dorm room” or going off-campus to one of those student houses.
“
Colby is a very unique place,” writes a sophomore math major. “
Some people just plain don't find themselves comfortable here for whatever reason, whether it’s because of the party culture, the kinds of people here, or what-have-you.” Because its isolated location and small size dictate close community boundaries, students usually wind up either loving it or leaving it. But there’s no hiding the strong personality, and most students wouldn’t have it any other way.
