I'm Going to Miss This Place

Long story short: I regretted coming to Auburn until I joined The Auburn Plainsman.

I don't wear Sperrys, and I don't listen to Dave Matthews.

I'm from Daytona Beach. Floridians are too busy being awesome to wear TopSiders and waste time jamming to DMB, so eat it.

But as unhappy as I was my first three years of college, this last year of ridiculousness has more than made up for it.

Had I not started working here I would have had no idea cake was an office necessity, rolling your chair is the only acceptable mode of transportation ("That's what's right"), George Lopez mails free mini-watercoolers, Corn Dog Day is an actual holiday, relaxation time is mandatory, ladder golf is best played in front of a row of computers ("That's why we can't have nice things"), safety walks are the only ways to get to Moe's, the initial crime story could not be further from the truth, pica rulers can fly, "They don't use AP Style," Fiesta String will permanently adhere itself to the ceiling, you can make a bed using three chairs, oatmeal should be eaten on Wednesdays and sometimes people bug the lamps.

Oh, and the acquisition of Plainsman Telepathy.

I am excited to spend this summer working at Progressive Farmer, but I am also bummed that I will not be greeted with arm punches and chucked highlighters when I walk into the newsroom this summer.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to work that way.

I may actually start turning my phone off again at night since I won't be responsible for covering car accidents.

Oh my word--to not have to feel like the world's HUGEST jerk as I shove my notebook under a cop's nose while he's trying to airlift an injured pedestrian to the hospital--that will be glorious.

Nothing makes me more proud than to see the fruits of my pedestrian safety labors, but I will not miss writing articles about people who almost died.

The Plainsman may be run by students, but they are some of the hardest-working adults I know. And they genuinely care about delivering a quality product to whoever picks up a copy.

I can still remember the first time I walked into the newsroom. Back then it was still in Foy.

I was completely dumbfounded when I was assigned an article.

But that's kind of what happens when you show up to volunteer.

I got that story sheet, and I was scared.

But I was also thrilled.

I became less thrilled when my first editor ripped it to shreds the following Sunday (as well she should).

Now, two years later, it's me who does the ripping, and I couldn't be happier.

The writers I'm ripping on might feel differently...

To the practicum students: I really want to help y'all become better journalists.

I hope you get some sense of that as I arrogantly erase entire paragraphs from your stories.

Heck, I know I need the occasional ripping on. The sucky thing about being a section editor is you don't get much heavy-handed editing, and goodness knows I could definitely still use some of that.

My beloved News section will be in someone else's hands four months from now.

To the next news editor: please love and cherish this section as I have.

Please love and cherish this staff as I have. Well, more than I have.

I don't think they always know how much I value them, and they deserve to know.

And please love and cherish this paper as much as I have.

Actually, I'd like for the whole new staff to do that.

If you're going to do something, you might as well do it right--please do right by The Plainsman.