Follow the steady stream of students eager to get some one-on-one time with Nancy Cathcart and you’ll get some instant insights into who she is. From the signs that pepper her office walls -- “Peace: Let It Begin with Me,” “Diversity Is Our Strength,” “Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History” -- to the tranquil bubbling of a pebble fountain that soothes her when navigating the stream feels more like shooting the rapids, it’s clear that you’re in a place apart from Champlain’s usual techno-wired world. You’re in a space where hardcore academics get balanced with an education in civic engagement, in leadership, in the art of listening with an open mind.

Officially, Cathcart serves as fulltime community service coordinator, part-time career advisor and adjunct faculty member, teaching and overseeing the required service projects for some 90 business and technology majors. She also acts as faculty advisor for a number of student groups and she’s in high demand as a mentor, friend and surrogate mom. It’s a workload that far exceeds her job requirements, that keeps her on campus until midnight once a week and that puts this lover of calm and quiet in the center of a constant storm of activity. But role models can’t rest. Cathcart is transforming students into good citizens, a mission that she adores -- and one she’s been training for most of her life.

DEFINING TIMES

Nancy Cathcart grew up in a tiny town outside Pittsburgh, a place so small she went to the same four-room schoolhouse that both her parents had attended. She walked home for lunch every day, along with the one other girl and five boys who were her classmates from kindergarten through eighth grade, a setup that Cathcart believes had an enormous impact on who she is now. “Everyone in my life was family,” she says.

But coming from such an insulated environment made her awakening when she arrived at UVM as a “young, naïve, pretty privileged” undergrad during the political maelstrom of the late 1960s particularly abrupt. She came face-to-face with the pain inflicted by racism when an African-American dorm mate related the humiliation of a long-revered campus ritual. She watched when the lottery for the draft was being drawn on television, realizing that friends around her would be compelled to fight a war
they considered unjust.

Despite initially pledging as a Tri Delt (she joined—and quit—the sorority along with Nobel Peace Prize winner Jodi Williams), organizing against racism and the Vietnam War quickly dispelled her interest in the Greek scene. “By the second semester I had let the bleach grow out of my hair, gave away all my matching outfits and became a student of the anti-war movement,” says Cathcart. “That was part of my higher education, becoming more aware of what was going on in the world and finding that you could, in fact, do something about it.”

What has separated Cathcart from so many of her boomer brethren is that throughout her career -- as kindergarten teacher, daycare director and nonprofit fundraiser before coming to Champlain in 1999 -- she’s remainedcommitted to activism. She has volunteered at Vermont Cares, helping people with AIDS, and has worked on youth development issues. She’s currently lending her fundraising expertise to Burlington’s Tibetan refugee community and she continues her passionate fight against racism. Among other honors, Cathcart received the City of Burlington’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Award in 2001. “Nancy is involved in everything,” says Patrick Brown, who coordinates the King program. “Every year we look for people who have given of themselves. She houses minorities, rallies students; she’s been a great advocate of diversity and inclusion.”

GENTLE PERSUASION

Cathcart says she hasn’t mellowed since her college days, that time and increased awareness of problems in the world have only strengthened her views. Yet it’s hard to imagine a more mellow activist. The word conjures images of an angry protester, pushing an agenda, insisting on the correctness of her position. Not Cathcart. She opens minds because she leaves her own mind open too. In fact, Cathcart has been faculty advisor for a highly conservative student organization, the Civilian Service Corps, a group with uniforms and military titles. “I care about these kids,” Cathcart explains. “I’m not into uniforms or being given a title. But they are and it’s helped them get a hold of themselves and feel a mission in life and I hold value to that.” If Cathcart has an agenda for students, it’s opening them up to their own potential as leaders, to the idea that democracy comes with responsibilities as well as rights, to the personal as well as societal benefits of volunteerism. “Service has a way of making people feel competent and important and connected while serving a really needed purpose...A good service relationship is the substance of life, really. It’s as good as a good marriage, it’s as good as a goodparent-child relationship.”

Linda Li ’02, who worked closely with Cathcart in Get Real, the campus community service organization (see “Community Connections”), took the lesson even further and made helping others her career. Now she’s a fundraiser for a nonprofit organization. “Before I got involved in these activities, I thought I would just find a job in advertising. At Champlain, I discovered myself and realized I wanted to do a job that benefited other people. Nancy was a big part of that,” says Li. “I love [my job]. It doesn’t pay very well, but I’m happy every day.”

What makes Cathcart so inspiring to students is pretty basic. She listens to them. She asks them questions and she validates their point of view. “Nancy is like a student magnet; they adore her,” says digital video artist Karen Klove, who has worked with Cathcart on Diversity Champlain and The Women’s Center (see “Community Connections”). “She allows them to be who they are and goes from there. It’s incredibly powerful for anyone to feel as if they’re seen and heard in a genuine way.”

BREWING COMMON GROUND

On Wednesday nights from eight o’clock to midnight, Cathcart’s ability to bond with students comes to life. That’s when The Grind coffeehouse is held, an open-mic forum for free expression. In the twinkling candlelight of the temporarily transformed View restaurant, students perform improvisational comedy, play guitar, read their poetry or simply talk about issues that are on their minds in an environment that’s guaranteed to be safe and accepting.

“Our intent at The Grind,” explains Cathcart, “is that whatever you feel or think, as long as it’s not going to demean someone else, we’re ready to listen to it. If it’s sad poetry, if it’s a bad song that you don’t sing well, if it’s a political point of view, we’re here to hear you. There aren’t many environments in the world like that.”

The result has had an extraordinary effect on students, creating unlikely friendships and an atmosphere of intimacy that’s led to real understanding. Take last spring.

In the weeks leading up to the war in Iraq, the conflict was a hot topic at The Grind. Opinions ranged from staunchly pro-military intervention to the radical anti-war stance and everything in between. But on the night the first bombs dropped, the students all sat together, watching events unfold on television, and, as a group, they sought the commonality beyond their differences. They went out together and hung yellow ribbons around the trees, agreeing on one thing: let’s bring the soldiers home safely.

“It taught me a huge lesson about the importance of just knowing each other, giving each other the room to express ourselves, even if we disagree,” Cathcart says. “The students taught me that.”

Several weeks into the fall semester, Cathcart found herself missing some of these students she’d grown close to and wondered with sadness why they weren’t coming to The Grind and other activities as much as they had the year before. And then suddenly she understood. “They’re stirring the pot somewhere else. They’re launched. They’ve left my nest,” she says. “That’s what I want.”