Notes from the Desk From clueless to chummy

Author: Ben Salkowe & Lisie Mehlman

We're not sure how most newspaper staffs start a year, but ours began with a poorly researched, hastily executed name game. For ten painful minutes, the thirty of us sat listening to each other explain the "story" behind our names. There was, admittedly, a great deal of skepticism about the validity of this exercise as a legitimate icebreaker. How much this game contributed to our social growth is debatable, but we did all learn that Zamir's mom likes Z-names.

With good reason, the staff must have had doubts about us from the beginning. We were clueless about how to manage a newspaper, much less a newspaper staff. While we had our predecessor's technical guide to publishing, it came with no instructions for creating the camaraderie that makes churning out weekly newspapers a strangely enjoyable process. The community and traditions of the Hepburn basement - weekly all-nighters and the hijinks they breed - had defined our experiences as editors and, in many ways, as college students.

Icebreakers, it turns out, do not a community make. Nor do top-down declarations that all staff shall don Halloween costumes on a production night that just so happened to be October 31. But at some point, our enthusiasm must have rubbed off.

Unbeknownst to us, an offhanded comment about the relative lack of fun in our newsroom had inspired an ambitious sports editor to take matters into his own hands. We were pleasantly surprised to receive a formal letter proposing a new campus tradition to be called "Joke Night."

The initial expectations were low: at 10 p.m., after Neil had delivered his pizza styx and accepted our measly excuse for a tip, each section was to present a single joke to the munching group. Not surprisingly, only our resident Otter, Joe Bergan, drew more than laughs of sympathy and discomfort. But fortunately for all, the formalities of joke night were short lived - soon replaced by authentic chatter and more organic forms of fun. Suddenly, before our very eyes, spontaneous jocularity erupted outside the prescribed 10 to 10:10 p.m. window.

Sunday editorial board meetings, which had earlier been marked by a disheartening, funereal quiet, gradually became lively (or at least livelier) gatherings. By the time we made our second feeble attempt at holiday cheer - hanging Christmas lights and Hannukah colored streamers - our now buddy-buddy staff laughed at us and our suddenly unnecessary efforts to force office chumminess.

As newspapering became second nature, each section fell into an idiosyncratic groove and each task became routine. The once tedious process of headline-writing evolved into a game for the Sports editors, who huddled together at their corner computer to outwit, outlast and outplay the other sections. One desk down, a brotherly rapport developed between the News editors, who repeatedly bickered and made-up over type leading and italicization throughout the nights. In the other room, the floppy-haired Opinions editors spent the majority of each production night perusing Google images for ornate "courtesy" photos to beautify their stark section. To their left, the Local editors usually finished their section by 6 p.m., only to sit idly waiting for Andrea to stroll in at 1 a.m. with her latest exposÈ. The Arts editors may have been the smartest, relying on large stereo headphones to drown out the chaos and commotion from the neighboring Features editors, who held contentious discussions as to whether Brit-Brit should in fact make the "Loser" list again. Ilhan the Photo Editor could be found writing the latest installment of his never-to-be-published column, while Co-Editor Chris diligently placed photos in the background.

As we left the office and drove the wrong way down the one-way street to Ridgeline for the last time, we realized that our separate goals to improve the quality of our college newspaper and create a community among our staff were in fact one. Quirky relationships and collaboration led to creativity and experimentation. The editors we have so intimately come to know defined our experience this year; we hope their commitment and innovation has redefined The Middlebury Campus and the place it holds within our community.

Ben Salkowe and Lisie Mehlman are the (sad, departing) Editor in Chief and Managing Editor, respectively.