Rockford High School, my alma mater, is known throughout the state as a sports juggernaut, but to me it always seemed more like the movie "Saved!" translated to a public school.

I'm originally from the liberal Detroit suburb of Huntington Woods, and I never quite adjusted to the lack of diversity - intellectual, racial, cultural or religious - that defines Grand Rapids. Starting in the fifth grade, when I foolishly asked if the Jewish students were offended by the Christmas party, I often felt my objections to the constant presence of religion were met with confusion and surprise. (Just to answer the question - of course the Jewish students didn't mind. There weren't any.)

The lack of religious diversity led to an environment where churches competed for members and students kept lists of people they "saved" in their wallets. As a Catholic, I was a prime target for Baptist conversion, and I often found myself speechless when students politely informed me that, although I was a son of Christian, I was still going to hell.

It was not until my senior year that I started to wonder if I had ended up in some alternative universe. During a school-sponsored assembly, the motivational speaker announced, "I don't need to know your boyfriend to know that all he wants to do is have sex with you, but don't you dare give it up until he is down on one knee with a ring and a weekly paycheck." Not surprisingly, we received a copy of the New Testament as a bonus for our attendance, which was mandatory. At that moment, I ironically thanked God I would soon be attending the University of Michigan, which was a whole two hours away from abstinence-only education.

For the last three years, I have flourished in the University's liberal environment. As a member of the Daily's editorial board, I reinforced my liberal views and learned to argue progressive viewpoints with conviction. I rejoiced at the possibility of no longer being the most liberal person in every room.

Not surprisingly, the more time I spent with people whose views reflected mine, the more cynical I became about the conservative town where I was raised. I pitied those still living in the cultural bubble of Rockford, and I felt lucky to have escaped. Little did I know that a run through Ann Arbor last Thursday would rob me of my smugness.

As I set out through the residential district between South Forest and Washtenaw, I noticed almost every house sported campaign yard signs. It was not until I came across a house with five signs - for Granholm, Brater, Stabenow, Hieftje and voting no on Proposal 2 - that it really hit me. In covering almost the entire neighborhood, I didn't see one sign for a Republican candidate. As I slowed to a walk, the question crept into my mind: Had I really traded up when I came to the University, or had I just relocated myself from one ideological bubble to another?

This question reminded me of a conversation I had with a roommate only days earlier. She was concerned after hearing that Proposal 2, or the Michigan Civil Rights Initiative, might actually pass. I had to tell her that according to the polls it was not only possible, it was probable. With all the information students have access to, why was it still surprising to so many that Proposal 2 passed on Election Day?

The answer is in the bubble. Had it not been part of my job at the Daily to track MCRI's progress, nothing in Ann Arbor would have led me to believe it had a chance of passing. Liberal students from all over the country choose the University for its ideological reputation, but the end benefit is unclear.

Is the University environment really furthering liberal values, or is it simply radicalizing students who already lean left? Issues like MCRI whipped Ann Arbor into a fury, but the cyclone remained stationary, simply reinforcing the beliefs of those who already support diversity. The unwillingness of liberals to seriously consider the conservative arguments supporting MCRI made them unable to fight it effectively. Ann Arbor liberals are searching for ways to show conservatives just how wrong they are, but first we must admit that we too are living in a bubble.

Amanda Burns is an LSA senior and a member of the Daily's editorial board.