As strange as it sounds, growing up, I often hoped my love for writing would be something I eventually grew out of. It always existed in a different space in my mind compared to subjects like math and science, where answers felt more direct and “real.” There was a certain comfort in that clarity, in problems that resolved neatly when you followed the right steps, while writing always felt more uncertain, dependent on interpretation, voice, and whether someone else would take away what you intended in the way you hoped. And so, I think I treated writing like a burden for a long time. I was often frustrated that I seemed to excel in grammar and writing without believing it could lead anywhere “serious” or secure in the way other fields could. It was something I genuinely enjoyed, but also something I didn’t fully trust as a direction for the future, as if it belonged on the side of more practical paths I would eventually have to commit to instead. Even when I found myself drawn to words more and more, I still questioned whether that time and effort carried the same weight as everything else I was doing.
That mindset followed me into The Viking Times when I joined in the fall of my freshman year. I also came into it with a connection already in place, since my older sister, Zoe, was Co-Editor-in-Chief at the time, and in many ways I followed her into the program before I really understood what it would become for me personally.
Newspaper club truly changed the way I understood writing altogether. What began as something I approached cautiously, always aware of how I might be judged or misunderstood, slowly but surely became a space where I could actually work through my thoughts without needing them to come perfectly formed. A part of that shift came from realizing that writing for publication carries a different weight than writing privately. Once something is published, it stops being only mine in the way it existed on the page. People read it, react to it, often comment on it directly, and other times share it with their peers and on social media. Such a response made my work feel truly active. It created a sense that what I was putting down was entering conversations beyond my own perspective, and that words, once released, don’t really stay still.
And that is something I’ve come to understand more broadly through newspaper as well— the idea that words are never just contained to the page. They move. They influence. They shape how people understand events, how they understand each other, and sometimes even how they understand themselves. It’s strange to think that something as simple as a sentence can shift the way someone sees a situation they thought they already understood, but that happens more often than I used to realize. Words have always been part of how people build the world around them, from the way we share ideas to the way we challenge them. They can bring clarity to something confusing, give language to experiences that otherwise stay unspoken, and create connections between people who might never meet but still understand the same idea through different perspectives. At the same time, they can be misused, misinterpreted, or turned into something harmful, which is probably what makes them so powerful in the first place.
That duality is something I didn’t fully appreciate before newspaper club. I used to think of writing as something that lived in isolation, but I’ve learned that it has always been part of larger conversations, whether in classrooms, communities, or the world beyond school. The responsibility that comes with that is something I’ve become more aware of over time, even in small ways— choosing words more carefully, thinking about impact, recognizing that once something is said, it becomes part of someone else’s understanding of the world.
As I write my final article with The Viking Times, I find myself thinking back to that version of me who saw writing as something temporary, something I would eventually leave behind in favor of paths that felt more certain. Four years later, it has become something that shaped the way I think and the way I communicate, and something that connected me to people in ways I didn’t expect when I first joined. Even the moments I once overthought or doubted now feel like part of what built that understanding.
I started by following someone else into this space, and somewhere along the way, it became something I stayed in for myself. The habit of writing stayed, then grew into a voice, and then into something I learned to rely on. And through all of that, I’ve come to understand that words can describe the world, yes, but they also actively take part in building it. They carry ideas forward, they preserve moments, they shift perspectives in ways that can be subtle or immediate, but rarely insignificant. That realization has stayed with me more than anything else from newspaper, because it reframes everything I once thought of as small or uncertain into something that actually has reach. Looking back, I don’t think it was ever really a burden. It was more a process of learning how to understand it clearly enough to see its value, and how to trust that what I had to say could exist beyond just my own page.
I want to end by thanking our advisor, Mr. Donnelly, for his constant encouragement, patience, humor, and the way he always managed to find something meaningful in every piece, even when we couldn’t see it ourselves yet. I’d like to extend some additional thanks to our former advisor, Ms. Irvine, my co-editor-in-chief, Zaineb Fawzi, my junior editor-in-chief, Amina Barry, and all my fellow writers, photographers, and collaborators who have made our newspaper what it is. Lastly, thank you to everyone who read, commented, and shared my articles over the years— Mr. Dixon, Ms. D’Agonisto, Ms. Schultheis, Mrs. Calinda (& I could go on and on)— I’ve appreciated your attention and kind words more than you know.
It’s easy to forget, in the day-to-day rhythm of deadlines and drafts, that words can land somewhere and stay there. Knowing mine ever reached anyone at all is something I will carry with me long after this final issue. Thank you.
Your 2025-2026 Co-Editor-in-Chief,
Chelsea Long
