Notes from the Desk: Last will and Tess-tament

I, Tess Russell, do hereby bequeath the following:

To B.M., D.B. and the rest of the ENAM department, I leave: my last residual shred of coolness. When I came to Middlebury, I was, frankly, pretty disillusioned with the whole idea of learning in a classroom, and intended to spend my time here just getting by. Three years later, I’m graduating as someone who treasures all 11 of her Norton anthologies, counts ’Zounds among her favorite swear words (seriously) and occasionally reads poetry … out loud … TO HERSELF. All kidding aside, I couldn’t be happier about these developments. Thank you all for affirming my love of literature through the brilliance, dedication and enthusiasm you bring into the classroom every day, and most of all, thank you for making me believe that my dream of being a writer isn’t a silly one.

To K.L., I leave: my diploma, because I’m not sure I would be getting it — well, at least not for several more semesters — without your guidance. I pity the next chronically disorganized girl who passes through Middlebury without the benefit of having you as her dean. Thanks for everything.

To M.K., M.L., J.P. and the rest of the class of ’10.5, I leave: the advice of one of your own ilk — a much wiser person than I — Miss Abigail Blum ’08.5: “I’m a supa senior. I do what I want.” Enjoy ruling the school.

To M.P. and J.B., I leave: space on these opinions pages! Keep on writing — the campus, and The Campus, benefits immensely from the views of its two smartest contrarians. I look forward to the day that I will be saying “I knew him when” about both of you guys.

To Two Bros, I leave: My tab open. And my earmuffs. (It’s funny ’cause it’s true.)

To Seanie, I leave: Alpha status. Not to sound too much like a mother at her son’s Bar Mitzvah — and maybe it’s just because of our humble MOO beginnings — but I feel like I’ve watched you grow up these past three years from a super sweet, innocent kid into a man who totally owns at life, and I’m just so impressed. Good luck next year.

To Torch, I leave: my profound apologies for all those mornings Victoria and I woke you up by giggling in bed at 7 a.m. Thank you for your hilarious stories — you should know that for the rest of my life, whenever I hear the phrase, “You will not believe what just happened,” I’ll always be disappointed that the person doing the telling is not you.

To Molly and Cordon, I leave: the roof over my head, literally. It totally sucks that I didn’t get to spend my last year with you guys, but as they say, we’ll always have Tampa. (OK, no one says that.) Enjoy the house.

To Taryn, I leave: Freaks and Geeks, Peeps and THAT DAY in New Haven. I am so glad that we got to know each other even better this year. Your many talents — and your modesty about them — blow my mind, and every time I talk to you I learn something new. I hope you know that when it comes to 99 percent of people, I am so on your list.

To the class of 2011, especially EM and ER; KP and GC; KR, KL, and DS; RJ and HW; KC; TP and NN; IS, BB and BW; BC and ZB; JM; and DH, I leave: my best wishes for a great senior year. I promise to come back and visit.

To the editorial board, I leave: a case of Andre, a mop to clean up the flooded back room floor and the knowledge that at least one alum will still be reading religiously and appreciating how hard you guys work. Until a couple of issues ago, I’d been doing this since literally my first week here — that’s 70 issues, 35 of them as M.E. — so for me, Middlebury just isn’t Middlebury without The Campus. (In fact, these past 10 days, I couldn’t help thinking, ‘What do people do with all this time at the beginning of the week?’) Thank you for “leaving it all on the field,” so to speak, every week; for giving not just your Monday and Tuesday nights, but your intelligence and laughter and hearts to the best organization on campus.

(Admittedly, I’m biased.) Most of all, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to discover leadership qualities that I didn’t even know I had, for taking my often abrasive manner in stride when you knew that I meant well, and for generally putting up with me at my most frazzled. We may not hang out that much outside of Hepburn, but I promise you that when you near the end of your time here, you’ll realize that the connection you have to your co-editors is unique at Middlebury and that they are easily among your best friends.

To Lea and Jaime, I leave: boundless energy — and, when that fails, some restorative Grille food and a lot of Red Bull. Parting is, as they say, such sweet sorrow, but knowing that the Campus is in such capable hands certainly makes the “sorrow” part a little bit sweeter. Trust your instincts, don’t be afraid to lean on each other, and place ads early so you don’t have to at 2 a.m.! I know you’ll do me proud.

To Johnny Bananas, I leave: a lifetime supply of ’buch, cookie dough and MTV reruns. Also: plenty of (hypoallergenic) protection and my game from sophomore year so you can finally get all the action you deserve. (Kidding — but I do have a feeling senior year is going to be “lucky” for you.) Thank you for always telling me the truth when I needed to hear it, and for making me laugh (Peruvian law enforcement?!) more than is probably legal. Ignore the haters — one in particular — and keep on being your vivacious, infectious, often-raunchy-but-always-amazing self. I can’t even imagine how much Imma miss you. Love always, Trishelle.

To the smart, beautiful, wonderfully “aggressive” and wise-beyond-her-years Polly Pocket, I leave: lunches at O.C. bakery, Le Zebre, green cookies from LaForce 3, Newman’s Day, Preakness, Claud’s biscotti, boys with flows and/or accents, an old-fashioned 82 dance party, a newfound love of all things chocolate, late-night adventures on the LIRR, rest-stop car naps on the way back to Midd, Stereo Love, the brewery, all 27 jackets that you’ve lost, every stairwell on campus for your puking pleasure, LES deli avocado inspections, spring-term goals and the fullest cuddle. Thank you for being my best friend, my partner-in-crime (and in ’rut), and the only person I want to see before 10 a.m. on a Sunday; thank you for always having my back (and by that I mean literally threatening people with physical violence on my behalf); thank you for being by my side throughout this whole crazy ride, from the Technicolor montage of dartying and fun that was our first year to the many struggles that have followed. And thank you for your godlike patience in dealing with my freak-outs and for never ever judging me, except for that one time that I called you from 3.1 miles off campus. Moose was no phony — and neither are you, my love. Do me a favor and keep yourself healthy.

To Middlebury, I leave.