Like many other articles I’ve written, this one was turned in late — but not because I lacked motivation or I was overwhelmed with life (although I won’t lie and say this hasn’t been the busiest month of my life). This time, I turned it in over a week late because, for one of the first times ever, I was mentally and emotionally stuck. I knew that submitting this article meant confronting the end of my Observer career. How could I possibly sum up four years of one of the best parts of my life in just two pages and then be done writing for The Observer forever? This task has loomed over me all week, with questions, memories and ideas constantly swirling in my brain. It wasn’t until a late night FaceTime call with Leah last Sunday, my J1-4 companion, that I knew it was time to open my computer and just write.
Four years ago, I walked into Ms. Zitnik’s classroom not cocky, but confident. I strolled in after years of hearing about journalism from my brother and a lifetime of my mom telling me how different The Observer is now from when she was on staff. I had a clear goal of how I wanted my career to go in the class. My mom was the Feature’s Production Editor from 1986-1989, and my brother was the Observations Editor the year that I came in as a freshman. I wanted to follow in their footsteps yet simultaneously carve out a path of my own.
After pushing through the long pages of Radical Write notes and the practice articles that were never going to be published, I was finally able to begin my career as a journalist. At first, I felt immense pressure to live up to both my mom and brother’s reputation. But as freshman year turned into sophomore year, and that turned into junior year, I realized that I was producing articles that reflected my own unique voice. For a long time, I had modeled so much of what I did after my brother, but for one of the first times ever, I began to pull away from his example and become a different staff member than he was.
I remember the exact night the positions were announced for the 2024-25 school year, and the sheer excitement that Leah and I felt when I shared my screen and saw both of our names next to each other. Being the first in my family to hold the position of editor-in-chief has been so special to me, and that title will forever hold a tremendous place in my heart. But, what mattered more than the title, was being part of such an amazing staff. I don’t think any college production room could quite capture the close bond and tight-knit connections I have made here. I will forever miss Catherine’s Jersey Mike’s subs every day during class, or hearing the juniors’ gossip and trying to relate or even the constant bickering between Leah and I. Because although it sometimes seems like we hate each other (and let’s be honest, I still do most of the time), I have never had a friendship so rooted in mutual respect and endless trust. I could not thank this class enough for allowing me to not only continue my family legacy, but to create connections that I hope will last forever.
It would take forever to individually thank all the people who have impacted my time on The Observer, but I truly appreciate all the support I’ve received over the last four years. To all the underclassmen, every single one of you, whether you know it or not, have the potential to be amazing writers. I know that I’m leaving The Observer in the best hands with Lily and Max, two editors-in-chief, who will keep The Observer name on top. Leah, Claire, Nataly, Rebecca, Catherine, Isar, Kate, Isabella and Olga, all of you have so much to be proud of and I cannot wait to see what the future holds for each of you. Ms. Zitnik, thank you so much for supporting me and my family for the past few years. I could not imagine a better advisor. You showed me how to not only be a better writer and editor, but a better leader and I am so grateful for that. Writing the last few sentences of my final article honestly is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but I think it’s the perfect time to close this chapter, proud of what I’ve written, and even more proud of who I’ve become. I walked into room 243 with just a dream, and now I’m leaving it with so many memories that will last forever.
