Sometimes, I think that all I did at The Daily was waste time.
I edited articles when I should have been completing homework assignments. I made detours to The Daily House before and after classes to get a snack. I asked long and complicated ice breakers at the beginning of every Masthead meeting for a year straight to delay topics of serious discussion.
But I must have gotten some work done. The Daily puts out a minimum of 10 articles per day, which means at least 50 articles per week, not including the time it takes to format those articles for the weekly 12-page print issue. In my year as editor-in-chief alone, The Daily published over 1,500 online articles and 31 print issues. Surely I must have worked to get that done. I certainly wasn’t staying up until 3 a.m. on the regular just to draw another alignment chart on the quoteboard.
And still, when I think of how I spent my four years at The Daily, from writer to editor-in-chief, my memories consist of sitting on the couches of 456 Panama Mall watching reality TV with Erin and Eliza. And gossiping on broken chairs in a tiny office with Ananya and Lauren. And running to On Call Cafe to pick up caffeine to fuel… what exactly? Not work, I can tell you that much!
The first person to call me when I started as editor-in-chief was my first editor-in-chief. He told me that serving as editor was The Best Thing He Did At Stanford and I thought, “Wow! That is a lot to live up to!” I loved The Daily and was thrilled to be elected, but I had absolutely no idea how to spend my time in ways that would make it The Best Thing I Did At Stanford.
So I wasted more time. Instead of responding to emails from board members or approving comments on the site, I spent hours reading the senior columns of students from other college papers. I pored over words from editors-in-chief of years past, from Ivy Leagues and liberal arts schools, from writers who are now professional journalists and those who went the way of Wall Street, desperate to glean any guidance they had for those following in their stead.
It turns out that if you read enough of these, you can gnaw together just enough cheesy advice and bitter complaints to feel like instruction. Though writing from incredibly different schools in incredibly different situations, these columns gave me comfort in knowing that the problems I was facing (at times, avoiding) were not unique. Every college newsroom seems to face similar issues, all the way from university administration down to the dinky broken chairs that plague our offices.
In one senior column I read while procrastinating, former editor of the Columbia Spectator Isabella Ramirez voiced the deep anger I felt toward people who — in her words — “appeared to take cruel pleasure in attempting to undermine Spec and the hundreds of hardworking, well-intentioned students who voluntarily poured their heart and soul into the public service of local journalism.”
I’ve never met Isabella but I can’t overstate how often I thought of her words throughout my year as editor. The editor-in-chief email inbox was a daunting thing to open for at least half of that year because of the types of people Isabella wrote about. But to hear another editor from a school paper across the country be so openly frustrated about it was a validation.
In another column, former editor Irie Sentner put into words the reason this anger did not deter me, or Ramirez, I imagine: belief. Specifically, belief in the importance of the work student journalists do every day. I hear the sap dripping from the words (he put it much better than I just did), but I can’t help but believe too. It is something of a miracle that so many college students choose to spend time producing news, writing about school sports, reviewing student plays, creating crosswords, making jokes and sharing their opinions out loud.
To produce just one article requires the work of reporters, interview subjects, desk editors, copy editors, photographers or graphic designers, managing editors, executive editors and — to make it worth it — readers.
That is no small task, and hundreds of people at universities across the country do this at scale! For free! I witnessed the volume of student journalists and the belief we share last fall when 55 student newsrooms signed an amicus brief in support of The Daily’s ongoing lawsuit against the federal government. That is 55 separate newsrooms publishing dozens of articles per week, requiring the work of literally thousands of people.
Sam Catania, a former Daily editor-in-chief, wrote his senior column about this exact miracle: “I was acutely aware that there wasn’t a great reason why a bunch of 20-somethings should come together to write 20-40 articles a week. No one has to do it. Most staffers don’t intend to become journalists.”
In that sense then, everyone at The Daily is wasting their time. What are we all doing spending hours and hours on articles that in all likelihood are read by more parents than students and distributed in a medium no one picks up? Oftentimes, at least at Stanford, not even the editor-in-chief wants to pursue a career in journalism.
In my opinion, this is part of what makes it a miracle: the ability to turn what could easily be a waste of time into something of value, not for the sake of a resume or money, but because of their belief in the value of the work.
My own belief in it sparked my professional ambition. I joined The Daily as a frosh because I thought journalists looked cool in the movies. Following graduation, I will be a full-time reporter in New York.
So it was definitely not a waste of time. Still, I do not know if my hours spent actually writing or editing outweigh those not working. I do know, however, that this institution is what made my time at Stanford worthwhile. Indeed it is the Best Thing I Have Done At Stanford.
One thing they don’t tell you when you run for editor-in-chief just before your 21st birthday is that, if you win, you will spend every single day of your 21st year alive being the editor-in-chief. Another thing they don’t tell you is that you will love every second of it, especially the wasted ones.
Shoutouts:
Lauren and Ananya: Screw my career, the greatest gift The Daily has given me is the two of you. I truly believe the three of us could run the world together. We would be so tired, but we could do it.
George, Amina and Anna: Thank you for taking the reins even after hearing us complain so much. Amina, it is so awesome to have grown up at The Daily together and to see you now. I still can’t believe you’re doing this your senior spring, but I am in awe of the fact that you are. George and Anna, it has been such a privilege to watch you grow as writers, editors and now the executive team. Keep crushing it. I am so proud of you all!
Emma: I could not have been editor for even one day without you in my first volume. I am sorry for asking stupid questions like, “I can’t get in trouble for anti-embezzling, right?” and calling you from upstairs when you were downstairs. Thank you for listening to me cry and rant and be confused. Thank you also for the legal advice and the purse, both of which I used every day last summer and will use for my first real job. You are the best.
Sam: I don’t know if you’ll read this, but I know you still read The Daily at least semi-frequently because you were often the first to send me corrections on articles and excerpts. Thank you for setting The Daily up on Notion and getting new computers and couches and in general making The Daily a functioning 21st century organization. Thank you also for encouraging me as a writer to be courageous and go after the big story. I learned I wanted to be a journalist under your editorship.
Linda: Thank you for being the reason I became an editor at any level. You told me to apply to be an Arts & Life desk editor, then magazine editor and then editor-in-chief. I cannot thank you enough for believing in me. I loved learning from you and I loved hanging out with you, especially during our 20-minute lunches at Ikea that one summer. That was so random.
Duran: Thank you for being the most consistent part of my Daily experience. The Daily does not run without you and everyone there knows it. Your cover graphic on this year’s Big Game issue is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
267 and 268 Mastheads: Thank you for teaching me how to be a leader and being patient with me as I learned. I am sorry for how many fun facts and weird ice breakers I put you through. No matter how many shoutouts or banquet awards or Slack kudos I gave you, it was never enough and I know it.
Erin and Eliza: Erin your “Senior Scaries” column has been an inspiration for this article all year. You told me in the fall that you thought my senior column would make you cry. I don’t know if I succeeded but it was a helpful goal to have while writing. Eliza, you coined the term “Daily House Nap” aka “DHN,” which is potentially the most important acronym ever and I can’t believe it didn’t exist prior to your genius. Thank you for that and also for coming to The Daily House between classes and after trivia.
Every single FOTDH (Friend of The Daily House) but especially the ones who came to Ink Bowl: Thank you for coming to The Daily House and writing in our guest book. Thank you for celebrating with us at Buca di Banquet. Thank you for playing and winning Ink Bowl to cement that day as my favorite day of college ever. You are the reason The Daily is not torn down by its staffers own neurotic energy.
The Daily House: I don’t know who I’m writing this for but I felt that I needed to put into words my gratitude for The Daily House. I spent more time here than any dorm I’ve ever lived in. It is where I went to do readings, write essays, take interviews, watch television, grab a snack, call my mom, fix my makeup, cry in the bathroom and also work on The Daily. I sent packages here so I wouldn’t have to wait for the University to process them. I forced non-Daily friends to hang out here if they wanted to see me past 8 p.m. I learned to write, edit, lead and teach those skills among my favorite people here. I love every inch of this building, from the hole in the floor of the second story that lets you yell between floors to the un-erasable whiteboard with the “Hamilton” song tier list. This building holds my memories of college so deep that if all of Stanford was wiped from my brain, I know I could find my way back to 456 Panama Mall through muscle memory. Thank you.