After an overambitious, botched attempt to publish eight pages our first week in office, we should have known late nights would characterize our time on the Board. It could have been the unpredictable paper jams or “spooling” errors of a printer with a mind of its own. Or maybe it was the everpresent, musty odor that emanated from a notorious couch strewn with nightly orders of TJ’s. Most likely, it was the notion of fifteen teenagers walking into an office steeped in one-hundred thirty years’ tradition, looming in the legendary shadow of a soon-to-retire Classics Master, and laboring under the vague pretext of “journalism.”
For better or worse, exactly a year ago we were handed keys to that basement office. It might as well have been the Wonka factory—no one knew exactly what happened inside, but it always smelled delicious (thanks to the copious amounts of takeout, as we later learned). The miracle was that somehow, the clandestine, conspiratorial efforts from inside Pop B13 managed to produce a quality, if slightly pretentious, paper every week. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, but we got the keys nonetheless. That was that, and from then on there was no looking back.
Thus, we began our tenure under the inauspicious circumstances of an eight-page issue gone amiss and the extirpation of our beloved Larynx (see: Lahnax).
We learned from what we did right (not much, at first), saw what we could do better (mostly everything), and built up from there. 365 days, 22 issues, and 100 pizzas later, we find ourselves writing our last editorial. And somewhere along the way, in the process of making this publication, which many hate to love and love to hate (David Blackman ’12, Hunter Rex ’12, TFA & co., we mean you), we learned a few things that we thought we might share.
Manik does everything fast: talking, inhaling TJ’s, pacing, and making Arjun’s page within the last 24 hours before export. Arjun does nothing fast, except Facebook stalking. In other news, Oliver has learned that he should never make bets, and, after one memorable night when he proclaimed he was, “sweating grease,” that there is such a thing as too much TJ’s. Jake has proven himself to be the most levelheaded person in the office—except when we order Korean food.
By contrast, Fili loves Korean food, and Koreans for that matter. Speaking of beloved Koreans, JeongWoo has transformed the position of Photo Editor into the role of an on-the-go, intrepid photographer capturing the world with the 8.0 megapixel camera of his iPhone 4S.
We have come to learn that having our new office in Hamill means enduring the intermittent presence of Hans—the true Lawrence; he popped in and out, frenetically ordering us to make him a staff writer.
We have also come to accept that things would be far better in Urvashi-land. Lauren has taught us that it is possible to sustain yourself on Ben & Jerry’s. Jacob Luber has learned that he can sustain himself by mooching off of our food. Our culinary expert Elizabeth introduced us to bacon-and-onion pizza. Mrs. Rabin taught us that she likes her Brooklyn pizza warm, on a plate, and delivered to her seat, which should be next to her reading lamp, which in turn should be close, but not too close. And in the end, Annie was the one to save us all, week after week.
There are things we might have done differently, but our tenure ends here. We’d like to thank you for your reluctant positive feedback, your relentless criticism, and, above all, your willingness to leave class to pick up a copy of our beloved paper. Good luck, 132nd.
—The 131st Editorial Board