When I first began at The Northerner, I was a bright-eyed little reporter for Practicum, and I was excited but extremely intimidated. It wasn’t until the next semester when I became copy editor that I actually ventured into The Northerner office. I sat at my computer and quietly made my pink copy editing marks on the few articles completed after the deadline as the overwhelming amount of extroverts entered and left the room; people speaking loudly, dancing, conducting phone interviews, playing their iPods and sharing more details of their personal life than I cared to hear.

But I came back the next week. And the next. And the next. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when it was 3 a.m. and the server went down, the computers kept crashing and we didn’t know if we’d have an issue, I was glad to be there.

This semester, I became the managing editor, and I don’t quite know how I found myself here.

When I was asked this summer if I would accept the position, my first question was, “Do I finally get a key to the office?” I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. I can only hope I’ve done a suitable enough job and haven’t let the rest of the staff down.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to all the professors whose classes I have fallen asleep in this semester as a result of our late deadline nights. I promise you it was nothing personal.

I would really like to thank Mary Cupito for being such a tough professor and for advising me. I was lucky enough to have her for all my core classes and she forced me to step outside the “I just want to get through this class” mindset and realize this is what I really want to do with my life.

I also want to thank Amy Ehrnreiter for always “kicking my butt.”

As a journalism student she’s forced me to do a lot of things I didn’t feel like doing, but I know she had my well-being in mind. She always knows when it’s too much for me to handle and she picks up when I slack.

So no more “Did you say Amy or Jamie?”

No more articles covered in pink ink and highlighter. No more hearing someone singing The Beatles off-tune under her breath.

I’m graduating into the real world, and I’m taking my pink pen with me.

I love you all!