We welcome you to Chateaugay!
We're mighty glad you're here!
We'll send the air reverberating with a mighty cheer. (Rah, rah!)
We'll sing you in,
We'll sing you out,
For you will give a mighty shout—
Hail, hail, the gang's all here!
Welcome to Chateaugay — hey!

Chateaugay, N.Y. isn't your typical hometown. I realized this fact quickly as I began my first year of college. Though, to some, it may just be a hard-to-pronounce, one-stoplight town to drive through in order to get elsewhere, Chateaugay means so much more than that to me.

Where many people grew up in large cities with dozens of shopping malls, fancy restaurants, and glitzy hotels within minutes of their homes, Chateaugay's backyards are filled with farms, wind turbines, Chateaugay Lake, and wilderness. When my freshman year college roommate asked me if the downtown mall was big in Burlington, Vermont, I replied with an innocent and enthusiastic yes!, having only known the Champlain Centre Mall in Plattsburgh — a good 45-minute drive from home — failing to consider that she might be from a bigger town than I am.

Due to Chateaugay's large farm presence, the smell of hometown for me is fresh cow manure — a distinct, rank smell I never thought I'd grow accustomed to that I now associate with feelings of nostalgia.

Being from Chateaugay provided me with a unique background of knowledge and experiences that have shaped me into the person I am today. For example, Chateaugay is the home of the McCadam cheese plant. What this meant to me as a high school student was frequent fundraisers where my peers and I would be encouraged to sell cheese to our relatives, neighbors, and teachers to benefit our class. This also meant having constant access to really, really great cheese.

My school field trips were to places like the Chateaugay Fish Hatchery and the Almanzo Wilder Farm, former home to author of "Little House on the Prarie", Laura Ingalls Wilder, in Malone — hidden gems that taught me both the historical and environmental contexts of my area.

One of my most vivid memories of going to school in Chateaugay was that there was a farm directly next door. During soccer season, this meant never kicking a ball over the fence and into the corn fields, lest we would have to go search for it. During gym class, this meant that I was able to watch the miracle of a cow giving birth, simply because we were lucky enough to be nearby.

Unlike other people who went to separate elementary, middle, and high schools, I spent all thirteen years of my education — kindergarten through senior year — with roughly the same 42 people. The friends I met on the playground in first grade were the same friends I walked across the stage with on graduation day.

Anyone who has ever heard of Chateaugay Central has indubitably heard of the insurmountable reputation of its educators. My teachers not only remembered each face — they impacted each life they encountered. Personable, kind, and wise — I sought them out as advice givers, listeners, and guides to my best self. I will fondly remember the teachers I had at Chateaugay for the rest of my life.

Hometown for me also means close proximity to the Canadian border, a fact I often took for granted. This closeness to Canada is mostly utilized by community members of Chateaugay for guilty pleasure trips to Peevans, a restaurant just across the border that is known for its delicious poutine and hot dogs. One of my high school classes also made multiple treks to Ottawa — the most hilarious of which was when our transportation forgot her license.

Something else the Chateaugay area is famous (or infamous) for is its weather. We are accustomed to having large amounts of snow from as early as October through as late as April and even sometimes May. Many people jokingly say that we only have two seasons — winter and summer. However, the fall foliage in Chateaugay is breathtaking. Due to its location in the Adirondack Mountains, out-of-state leaf peepers can be spotted from time to time driving around and taking photos of the gorgeous foliage during the fall season — a sometimes-aggravating reminder of how lucky we are to call this place home.