I feel like I’ve been in college for all of two minutes. I graduated high school in June of 2023 – not even three years ago at the time of writing this. I have only been at Hofstra University for five semesters, which came following a panicked transfer from my original school after only one semester. After Wednesday, May 6, I will never have to sit through another class again. After Wednesday, May 13, I will never have to submit another essay again. After Sunday, May 17, I will never be a student again.

But I will also no longer be an editor at The Hofstra Chronicle.

After a lot of internal contemplation and agony, I showed up to the first Arts & Entertainment (A&E) budget meeting of the Fall 2024 semester. There, I met Aidan Judge, Abby Gibson and Matt Fisher for the first time (more on them later). I don’t remember the nitty gritty of that first budget, but I know that I somehow agreed to write a review of “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” for the first print edition of the semester. 

Already feeling out of my depth, I soon attended my first Features meeting. I was thinking about submitting a recipe or two, which I knew the section published through my brief internet stalking. Someone named Zoe Casselman was the primary writer of the existing recipe articles I could find, and I was worried that my s’mores brownie recipe would step on her toes. Little did I know, at the time, the Features section was “on life support,” according to Zoe, and the recipe articles were a result of what she called “The Zoe Show.” She wrote most of, if not all of, the articles for many of the editions on which she worked due to lack of writers, and she used recipes to fill space on the pages.

That fall, I wrote two articles for almost every issue we published – one for Features and one for A&E – totaling 12 articles for the semester. I was encouraged by both sections to apply for their available assistant editor positions. After only two and a half months with the paper, I was hired as an assistant editor for A&E.

I will miss my job as an editor of the paper. I’ll miss hearing our writers pitch their stories at budget meetings. I’ll miss spending my Sundays in the office doing our layout. I’ll miss brainstorming new ideas for our section with upper management. I’ll miss writing and editing articles. 

But I’ll also miss the things that aren’t in my job description.

I’ll miss fighting over chairs on Monday nights. I’ll miss watching five different sports games simultaneously between people’s phones and laptops at layout. I’ll miss driving my on-campus colleagues back to their dorms, even if it did double my commute home. I’ll miss sending absurd celebrity news to our group chat as potential quick hits. I’ll miss watching Joe Orovtiz juggle his many cameras at the basketball games. I’ll miss going out to dinner with my section on the one night we would all have free.

To Aidan, thank you for hiring me. Taking on larger roles in the spaces I exist has always intimidated me, but I think you saw my potential before it was fully realized. It is because of your overwhelmingly friendly nature that our section has continued to be filled with friendship and laughter, both inside and outside of the paper. You turned what I thought would be a valuable professional experience into lifelong friendships.

To Abby, thank you for being my first friend at Hofstra. I forgive you for not going to Rome with me – although you would have made it infinitely better. Not knowing when we will next share a meal is a genuinely distressing thought to me. You’re the glue that has held this section together through all the last-minute articles and late nights. Travel safely down Bobo Road.

To Craig, I’ll always be grateful that A&E decided to hire us together because, otherwise, we may never have become friends. Much of my time at Hofstra, I felt I have walked in stride with you. You have always been the person here whom I’ve turned to for every little thing, no matter how serious or silly the task may be. 

To Matt, I forgot you even worked here! You’re my favorite person to not see walking through the door. Your Texas Roadhouse birthday will live rent free in my head until the end of time. In all seriousness, you are the least serious person in our section. You keep us grounded, you make us laugh and we missed you this semester.

To our wonderful, wonderful successors Vanessa and Kimberly, I’m so sad we only got one year together, but I know we’re leaving A&E in capable hands with you two. You are both such dedicated and passionate writers with many ideas and a lot of potential. You guys are the models of what A&E editors should be like, and I can’t wait to see the legacy you leave.

To Hannah, layouts wouldn’t be the same without you to kiki with every week. It’s very easy to talk to you about anything and everything. You’ve brought such innovation to the Chronicle, and you still have so much more you plan to do. Wishing you nothing but the best for next year and beyond!

I may not have been here the longest or contributed the most, but the impact that the Chronicle has had on me is immense. I’ll never forget the first time I held a paper with my stories published in it. I’ve brought home three copies of every issue of the paper since that day. 

I have never been a part of an organization that makes me even slightly mournful to be leaving an academic space. I have been looking forward to the day I can say that I’m done with school for a long time. School has not been kind to me, and I truly can’t say that I will miss it. I can, however, confidently say that I will miss the Chronicle.