Mirror, Mirror, on the wall: it’s Gretchen, writing from one of the mysteriously-stained, slightly-too-squishy couches that lives on the second floor of Robinson Hall — the same couch I’ve sat on for the past four years at Mirror story assignment meetings. To be honest, I’ve been dreading this Editors’ Note — the last of the 181st Directorate — because the end of my time on Directorate is akin to taking the first step on the path that leads to graduation. And that, in turn, feels somewhat like stepping off the edge of a cliff when you don’t know what lies beneath — not to be dramatic or anything. Clearly, our last night of production is filling me with the first twinges of nostalgia for my college experience.
If you had told 17-year-old me that I would spend hours each week in a college newsroom, I would probably have laughed. When I applied to Dartmouth, it didn’t cross my mind to wonder whether or not the College had a newspaper. I didn’t learn of The Dartmouth’s existence until I was walking through the Collis Center with my parents, a few weeks before freshman fall began. We stumbled on a stack of print issues, and my dad said something about how he loves college newspapers because they always take themselves a little bit too seriously.
Four years later, he was right — I have, in fact, taken The Dartmouth much too seriously, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I joined Mirror as an uncertain freshman who liked to write, searching for a space to record my college memories as I experienced them. Mirror gave me that chance, through my thrice-termly Editor’s Notes — which usually made me want to pull my hair out — articles I wrote from New York City or the University of Edinburgh and reflections from freshman fall when I was still figuring this school out. But more importantly, serving on the 181st Directorate has forced me to be more observant, articulate and insightful, pushing me to make meaning out of the mundane and find the story often buried between snippets of information.
Each night, my walk home takes me past Robinson Hall. When I see the newsroom windows lit up, it reminds me how lucky I’ve been to be an editor for the nation’s oldest college newspaper. In a few more weeks, those lights will belong to the 182nd Directorate instead of the 181st — and though that makes me a little sad, I know that the next directorate will show the same love to Mirror that Tess, Marius and I have.
Mirror, it’s Marius. Look how far we’ve come!
As I write my final piece as one of the editors of the Mirror, I’m thinking about the other pieces I’ve had the privilege of writing. I have always loved leaving no stone unturned with my Mirror articles — visiting the Life Sciences Center Greenhouse, going on a writing mission to a sorority formal and reflecting on my own journey through Dartmouth. As editor, I’ve had a team of amazing writers continue to peek into every corner imaginable and write about the vivid lives we enjoy here on campus.
It’s hard to imagine what Dartmouth will look like for me without Mirror, or what my Tuesday nights will look like without hours of editing. It’s especially bizarre that the end of my time editing for The D coincides with my last term at Dartmouth, since I’m graduating this winter. But that’s not to say that spring doesn’t hold the possibility of new frontiers. Dartmouth hasn’t heard the last of me yet — despite technically being a crusty alum, you will still find me dipping in the river, enjoying time with friends and, yes, writing for Mirror next term.
In closing, I’d like to take a second to point out what you readers don’t see: the incredible friendships that we make here at The D. My time here may be ending, but my friendships with Tess and Gretchen, our wonderful executive editors and our amazing writers will last far beyond the pages of our beloved newspaper. We’re turning the page, but I’m thrilled to pass the Mirror on to our amazing next generation of editors, and I know that you all will love them, too.
Hey, Mirror, it’s Tess.
Over the summer, Taylor, our news executive editor, visited me while I was in Rhode Island, splitting my time between waiting tables in Jamestown and conducting research for the Naval War College. In one conversation or another that we were having about The Dartmouth, he mentioned that he had edited the first few editions of my film column, “Deep Cuts,” before we met each other. He said that when he was reading it, it felt like someone was writing just for him.
Though it is impossible to capture the sum of two years in a few paragraphs, I think this moment does just as good of a job as anything else I could write. When I joined the newspaper, I was a bit of an aimless freshman, and one day during my first spring on campus, I decided to apply for no other reason than it was something to do. I never set out to be a writer. But, as I worked and revised and pitched my own ideas at our weekly story assignment meetings, I realized that The Dartmouth had pulled a voice out of me that I didn’t know I had — and gave me the chance to share it with other people.
I will never forget the time a friend told me something I wrote had started a fight in his 9L — an actual debate, in real life, over something I’d put to paper. Or when a senior in my sorority told me after I had rushed that she had printed out one of my pieces and pinned it next to her bed. She said she read it every night, but it was formal and she was drunk so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration.
As Gretchen said earlier, college newspapers take themselves a little too seriously. She’s right, of course, and the writers at The Dartmouth are no exception. But I can’t bring myself to regret it. What a privilege it is to have had something that I cared about, and that other people cared about, so much to take it so seriously — to believe it’s worth this much of our time and effort to make even one single person feel like someone was writing just for them.
For the last Mirror issue of the 181st Directorate, our stories highlight everything from the mountains of New Hampshire to the chicken at Foco. One writer reflects on the “hacks” she uses to spice up her meals, while another spotlights the people behind the Hop Film program. Another writer sits down with New Hampshire’s Kid Governor, fifth-grader Jade Adams, to discuss her tenure thus far. We also take a look at a sociology class that examines the complex nature of romance, and spotlight the students who ski both near and far from campus.
For our final words as editors: we love you, Mirror, and we hope you loved us, too.
XOXO — Gretchen, Tess and Marius.
