I started out on the paper as a favor for a friend. 

It was 2023. I was hired, having no previous journalism experience, no idea how to write an article in AP style and no idea how to report. I knew Adobe InDesign — and that was my golden ticket to be hired as the “editor” for the Environment section.

I was immediately enchanted by the office. While admittedly shabby, you can see the love that students have poured into the paper through the stacks piled throughout the half-broken desks. Inside jokes and memories are plastered to the wall, a remarkably accurate reflection of what my brain looks like during print week. There’s lingo and jargon to learn, bonds to form and lots of long nights. I started to learn the ropes. 

The then-managing editor grilled me to start writing — so I did. I submitted a full block of text, with a single source and my first-ever article got ripped to shreds. 

That only fueled me to write more. 

And more. 

I kept writing and editing and learning — and never stopped.

I took every journalism class I could, learned from wonderful professors, colleagues and devoured as much news as possible. I was, and still am, insatiable. 

My ‘big break’ was a two-year follow-up on the Weaver Fertilizer Plant Fire — because I saw that my stories mattered to the community. I saw the difference that I could make. This is what drives me as the Editor-in-Chief: seeing my staff make real change in their community.

As my wise and witty former professor and incredibly accomplished journalist Phoebe Zerwick taught me, journalism is a pillar of democracy. It’s a check on power for the people, by the people. This mattered to me. This is what drives me to be a journalist — especially today. 

I could wax poetic about the power of journalism for eternity, but what I’ll urge you to do is read our coverage from the past year. That alone can teach you the power of a small newsroom comprised of only undergraduate students. 

I suspect that the coming year will be a tough one, not just for reporters, but for the community. In my term, I have covered so much I never wanted to have to write about — and my only advice I can offer to you is to never back down. Remember the power of writing and remember your invaluable, unalienable right to the freedom of speech and press. 

As always, if you’re young and you’re reading this, I encourage you to start writing — and never stop. Just like me.

So, as my last move as Editor, I think some thank-yous are in order. 

To my mom, dad, nana and little sister, I love you and thank you for continually supporting me. I would be nowhere without you. 

To my step-dad, Eddie — you were my first editor, and you made me into the editor I am today. Thank you. 

To my first editors and friends at the paper, Christa Dutton, Shaila Prasad, Breanna Laws, James Watson and especially Maddie Stopyra, thank you. You shaped my leadership and taught me how to work with grace and grit.

To my most wonderful and treasured journalism professors and advisors — Lisa Sorg, Justin Catanoso, Phoebe Zerwick and Ivan Weiss, thank you. You taught me, and my staff, everything. You encouraged me to keep writing and to take the leap. 

To my Editorial Board, thank you. You made it incredibly easy to be your Editor, and I’ll miss you all dearly.

To my fellow exec members and wonderful friends, Andrew Braun, Will Kunisaki and Skyler Villamar-Jones, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, and you were my consistent rocks, guiding lights and inspiration. The newspaper and I thank you for your hard work, dedication and impact. 

To my successor, Mattie Stillerman, you got this. I can’t wait to see the amazing things you’ll do. Oh, the places you’ll go! 

Thank you for making the newsroom into a home and giving my time at Wake Forest its purpose. Continue to cover the campus, like the magnolias.