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.

The romantic comedies I watched starting from the age of 5 sealed my destiny to become a journalist.

Thanks to the smooth talking Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck) in “Roman Holiday” and the hapless Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher) in “Confessions of a Shopaholic,” I hopelessly romanticized the field of journalism. Every writer on the silver screen found themselves in a passionate relationship and fulfilled by their journey to uncover breaking news. All I needed was a pen, notepad and a meet cute while I investigated the story of the century.

I quickly realized I wouldn’t happen upon a wealthy stranger and fall head over heels in love while writing for a student newspaper. The hopeless romantic in me still shone through my coverage during my year as contributing culture editor. From covering a student engagement and a wedding to giving woefully unqualified dating advice, my time at The Hatchet has been inextricably linked to my romantic view of journalism.

At the end of any truly, painfully sweet rom-com there’s the grand gesture. The big dramatic moment where one character runs through an airport for another before breathlessly declaring they can’t live without them. Cue the swelling string music, and dear reader, pretend I’m kneeling as you read the next sentence.

I don’t feel that way about this paper. Sorry GW Hatchet, it’s not you. It’s me. I’m graduating, duh.

In the spirit of ending my semilong-term relationship with this news source, I’m hashing out all of my first and lasting impressions of every person I’ve worked with in the past. Read on if you dare.

Nick Perkins: “Okay, tall and loud.”

Our brief meeting at a party two years ago did little to foreshadow how important you would become in my life. Though we were both “desperation hires” I’m glad the fates paired us together. From throwing together last minute articles on soup and romantic milestones to attending a Shakespeare-themed wedding together, we’ve had our share of adventures at the helm of this section. As the volume shifts, I have the utmost confidence the culture section will only get better as you infuse your care for storytelling and unearthing the overlooked. Above all else, I’m truly going to miss seeing you all the time! You are covertly one of the most interesting people at this University and I hope whoever else reads this walks up to you afterwards to pick your brain on Ryan Gosling or cemeteries. Sorry for all the times you had to lean down in order for us to yap, I could have invested in a step stool. I also hope you get your “Dune” popcorn bucket back at some point, that thing is the gift that keeps on giving!

Annie: “She must have lied, there’s no way a freshman could craft this complex of a narrative.”

I stand by my original review of that short story you wrote in techniques in creative writing. The sophistication of the writing, your command of dialogue, just everything about the story screamed that you were an old soul trapped in a college kid’s body. You’re only one year younger than me so it feels odd to say this, but I feel like I’ve watched you grow up in our time together both inside and outside The Hatchet. With each iteration of your column, your advice becomes more thoughtful and mature and it has been a thrill to play the minute parts in it that I have. I may no longer edit the column, but I vow to be a devoted reader. You know you’re hilarious so I won’t waste time reminding you. I do hope you continue to do stand-up so other people will get to hear the bizarre and wonderful things we gab about between meetings. Finally, thank you for being my blonde exposure therapy all these years, your kindness and confidence undid years of mistrust.

Clara: “She must think I’m insane.”

The first cartoon I ever pitched for “Ask Annie” at your behest was a magician summoning a wave of condoms. Your look of shock followed by an appreciative smile was all the encouragement I needed to let it rip. Your patience throughout my beginnings in the culture section made all the difference in making me the writer I am today. Were it not for your nudging I never would have had the courage to apply for staff. To this day, I look back over the profiles you carefully crafted for inspiration (McReynolds especially) and I hope we were able to continue on your vision. You left some big, stylish shoes to fill.

Caitlin: “A scavenger hunt wizard.”

Thank you for trekking across D.C. with me to try to solve that scavenger hunt. Your tenacity and willingness to commit to the bit will make you a wonderful contrib. I know you’ll keep the culture section weird in the best way possible.

Ethan Benn: “He’s so me if I were a more intellectual man.”

You’re going to roll your eyes as you read this message: You really are the great orator of this newspaper. When the room grows silent during editorial board meetings and the rest of us are racking our brains or thinking about dinner, you practically throw down an elegy. I’m not going to say I expect incredible things from you because that’s cheesy, and I’m not your grandmother. But, I do expect to see you at some point go viral for a very poignant man-on-the-street interview that alters how viewers see the world around them. You won’t realize your fame and brilliance because you’re not on social media, but don’t worry, I’ll send you screenshots.

Riley Goodfellow: “Oh they definitely despise me.”

The first time I spoke to you was right after an opinion section meeting. GW was finally letting students input their pronouns in different school platforms, something you had just written an opinion about. I went up to congratulate you about having a real impact on the school and you were extremely humble. You took no credit, smiled awkwardly and we walked in silence for like half a block. I’m glad we no longer walk in silence. I always walk away from our conversations feeling smarter, or at least like I’ve been let in on a witty secret.

Paige Baratta: “Oh no, not SDT.”

I will admit to a bias against sorority girls. That sticker on your laptop freaked me out. Over the course of the year, you’ve eroded this bias as I watched you put poetry to paper and develop thoughtful theses in a matter of minutes. Please stay opinionated and more than that, keep giving GW hell. You may not be able to fix the problems but you can be the loudest, clearest voice pointing them out.

Ethan Valliath: “He probably has a really cool Instagram.”

You do have a really really cool Instagram. You also have a very wise affect and provide the introspection we need during editorial board. When the rest of us are rattling off, you listen intently and considerately before putting in your two cents which is an underrated and rare quality at this university. It did not go unnoticed.

Anaya Bhatt: “Yes, please read GW for filth.”

You are so much more put together and confident than I was sophomore year. Your brutal honesty during editorial board discussions and refusal to dance around the points never ceases to amaze me. I hope you keep it up.

Nicholas: “He cooked a whole turkey?”

Though we crossed paths dozens of times before I joined staff I didn’t realize you were you until literally last semester. I kick myself for not saying hi sooner and failing to put two and two together. From forecasting elections in one breath to fangirling over Jake from State Farm, your enthusiasm is infectious. You truly care about the people of this paper, not just by cooking that gourmet meal but also the constant check-ins.

Nick Pasion: “Is he stupid?” 

You were taking forever to print something, and I was waiting in line behind you. You then realized that we were printing the same assignment for a class that was about to start in five minutes. You offered to let me go first so I wouldn’t be late. “What an obnoxiously kind person.” That was my next impression of you and it holds up. Your fingerprints are all over my favorite culture articles and under your watchful eye a story is always guaranteed to improve. Only you would take a story about a little free library and turn it into a social commentary on giving back to Foggy Bottom. I mean that in the best way possible. You’ve even broken me of my dependent clause addiction. D*mn you. 

Zach: “So that’s the matcha hater.” 

After I first got hired you were more of a concept than a person, nebulous. I remember in the beginning transition phase throwing out a last minute pitch about the best matcha latte on campus and immediately being told “Zach will never approve that.” Though my first impression that you have a vendetta against matcha seems to hold, I now understand your decisions aren’t random. You had a clear vision and you stuck to it steadfastly. Thank you for holding the culture section to it and occasionally bending when needed. You made us all stronger and I’m sorry I didn’t thank you sooner. It’s not easy being Atlas, lifting up the entire paper, but  you did it, often with a grin and an abundance of patience.

Jaden: “He looks like the proud owner of multiple J. Crew catalogs.” 

We had a zoom class together first-year and you wore a lot of striped shirts which is my least favorite pattern. I genuinely am blown away by your attention to detail when it comes to editing. Though Amos may not have much luck catching ghosts, you make up for it by catching countless inconsistencies and errors.

Isabella: “Ah. So that’s who makes the paper look nice.”

That massive desktop computer is terrifying but you make the design process go incredibly smoothly. Every paper this volume has been visually interesting (especially the culture pages) and it’s thanks to your tireless hard work. Thank you for listening to my often ridiculous design ideas and humoring me. You made the paper look magical (even when our stories were occasionally mid).

Grace Chinowsky: “I’ve never been so intimidated by someone shorter than me.”

When you walked up to me at Hatchet holiday in December and asked what my vision for the culture section would be I began to cold sweat. You made direct eye contact and you did not mince words. Since you shredded my BONW piece with edits, I’m certain now more than ever that my hopes for the section will be realized without me saying a word. Keep shredding, it makes everyone stronger.

Brooke: “Hehe, this is a funny sketch.”

I was impressed that as a freshman you had the courage to share your work in Debrief, especially during one of the first meetings. Since then you’ve saved both me and countless writers the humiliation of publishing incorrect information. To me, you’re kind of a renaissance woman: filming, editing, fact-checking, writing, there’s nothing you can’t do once you put your mind to it.  

An: “We’re living the spider-man meme right now.”

When you took the Bussdown DOTW, I had no idea who you were but I was sitting behind you as you asked someone who is Jenna. I felt so much better for not knowing anyone either, so thanks for that. Since then I’ve consistently been blown away by what you cook up for graphics whether it’s complex data analyses or the wacky requests Nick, Annie and I throw your way for culture.

Jennifer: “That pink tracksuit is a power move.” 

I was extremely jealous, and am still jealous of that outfit in addition to your collection of onesies. I hope as you continue to ascend and transcend in news you’ll continue to take culture stories because you really are one of our best writers. Regardless of the number of culture bylines I see in your future, know that I am rooting for you and please let me know if you’re ever in H-Town (be honest, it’s better than Dallas). 

Maura: “How’d she make that hippo so emotive?” 

The first time I saw one of your cartoons I was incredibly jealous and amazed.  I will forever be impressed with your ability to illustrate a hippo doing whatever bizarre request the editorial board handed you each week. 

Fiona Riley: “She has no idea the chaos she’s just unleashed.”

Though we did not get much of a chance to get to know each other, I will forever think fondly of you whenever I cut into a pizza. That Hatchet pizza cutter is sticking with me for the long-haul. 

Culture Writers: “Who put me in charge of these people?”

Ella, Diana, Brooke Shapiro, y’all have consistently impressed me throughout this year with snappy ledes and inventive pitches. Thank you for investing so much time into this paper. I’ve loved collaborating with each of you and I hope to keep seeing your names in the paper, regardless of the section.

To my Family and Friends:

Gigi: From womb-mates to roommates I’m beyond grateful that we’ve been each other’s built-in best friends. I know people think we’re an oddity for wanting to go to the same school but I can’t imagine going through college without you. You’ve been my biggest supporter and inspiration throughout this wild ride and I would be lost without you. Every time something weird happens or I have a break through in my writer’s block you’re the first person I have to tell. I love you to infinity and beyond.

Mom, Dad, Melissa, Benjy: I am eternally grateful for your willingness to put up with my creative efforts. You’ve never once made me feel less than for pursuing my passions in cartooning and writing. I know telling your friends I’m majoring in creative writing isn’t a flex but from the way y’all elevate my writing you’d think it was. Thank you for not just reading but taking notes on my articles. I love you endlessly.

Friends: Thank you for trekking across the city for a random sandwich and answering my incessant questions when trying to come up with last minute pitches. Your patience as I randomly addressed edits in the middle of dinners and ducked out of parties went a long way.

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