Each year, graduating editors are given 30 final column inches – “30” was historically used to signify the end of a story – to reflect on their time at The Hatchet, published in the final issues of the year.
For the life of me, I can’t remember what made me join The Hatchet.
I think it might be because for a few months in third grade, I took it upon myself to start an advice column in my elementary school’s version of a newspaper (why anyone would let an 8-year-old dole out advice is beyond me).
It could also be because I spent most of my senior year of high school fighting with the kids in my Contemporary Issues class about how they should “read the news for once” (high school was rough for me, OK?).
Once I got to GW, I knew exactly what my plan would be for the next four years. I would audition for an acapella group, apply to one of those freshman positions on the Student Association, maybe join a sorority in the spring and sign up to write for The Hatchet.
The moment I stepped into the townhouse for the first time, that plan went out the window. I watched as people way smarter than me rattled off the acronyms of things I didn’t know existed. A flurry of photographers and reporters streamed in and out of a cramped newsroom to upload photos and file stories. Behind me, some editors were yelling about a story on financial aid.
It’s corny and cheesy, and I’m rolling my eyes as I write it, but in that moment I knew there was no where else on campus I was supposed to be.
There’s a line in “The Office” when Michael Scott talks about how he’s writing a book called “Somehow I Manage.” Sometimes, as managing director, I felt a little like Michael Scott, helping lead a team but being kind of absurd. But being managing director of The Hatchet will probably be a top ten life moment for me (unless I end up winning that Tony Award, but here we are). The past one and a half years of being the “hype man” of GW’s independent student newspaper have been a better learning experience than any college class could have given me.
The Hatchet has taught me a lot of things, like how to ask hard questions and write under pressure. I learned how to be a good listener, structure an argument and maintain some self-control when someone tweets something factually inaccurate about us (to be fair, I’m still working on the last one).
I’m going to miss everything about The Hatchet, even things like not being able to open the townhouse door on the first try, trying to find the Golden Hatchet during staff meeting or missing out on Sunday brunch for almost four years.
The last few weeks, I’ve tried to come to terms with leaving The Hatchet. It kind of feels like at the end of a sad movie, where you know you’re about to cry but the tears haven’t started flowing yet. I know it’s because The Hatchet has defined my time at GW, and now I have to say goodbye to my favorite part of being here.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my Sundays now that I have one less email account to check and ed board to sit in. But I have a hell of a lot of faith in Volume 114 to keep The Second Oldest Newspaper in D.C. as amazing as it has been for more than one hundred years.
So now, for the last time, I’m going to look around the room and identify way more than three people whose qualities I admire and wish I had.
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