To whomever it may concern,

My name is Daniella Torres, I’m 18 years old, my favorite food is pasta, my favorite animal is the Okapi, and this is my senior farewell.

It kind of sucks to be writing one of these. That’s probably why I put it off for so long. Then when I would sit down to write it, I’d scrap the entire thing or stare at the screen like the words were just going to type themselves. It’s like, what do I even say? I wish I could strap a machine to my brain, connect it to the laptop, and have my thoughts form into words automatically. Years down the road when the next Editor-In-Chief is frantically organizing the website at 2 A.M., this letter will be discovered in the long list of daunting archives. If I say the wrong thing, or worse, don’t say the right thing, the next generation of journalists is going to think I am incredibly uncool.

Hopefully, I’m able to write something of substance here. But, I think the only way to do that is to rid myself of the idea of an audience. Which, purposefully, leads me to my first point.

At East, and especially through journalism, I think one of the most valuable things I’ve learned is to act, speak, write, and function as if no one else is watching, as if no one else ever will. Everything I write, be it reviews, poetry, or speeches, is written through the idea that its only home is my Google Drive. Sure, teachers will read my reviews and judges will watch my speeches, but I don’t need to know that. Not in the moment at least. So, because I am obviously to the level of expertise that prompts unsolicited advice, take with you this: the best way to produce genuine and quality art, is to produce it in the absence of an audience.

It feels incredibly surreal and a little bit unsettling to be writing my final piece of student news. My opinions are now etched into the universe – or just the internet – and I leave the walls of Plainfield East with only the memories of interviews and adventures that have taken place within them. 

Since my sophomore year, East Side News has been my little thing. None of my choir or theater friends do it, and so it’s always felt like my corner of the world. I’ve absolutely loved the unique interactions East Side News has allowed me to have with the student population, and the incredible opportunities that came along with it. Maybe I won’t be Editor-In-Chief of the New York Times, but this comes pretty darn close. I wouldn’t trade it for all the fame in the world.

I regret to inform you that this letter will be lengthy and because it is my last hurrah, I can’t bring myself to really care. But, because I don’t want you to lose interest, I will leave you with my final words.

First, I want to say my thanks. Thank you to my teachers who tell me they loved my incredibly mean reviews and my appearances on the Bengal Broadcast. Thank you to my friends who read and repost my stories. Thank you to Mrs. Munsie for encouraging me to take on any and every story, for noticing my strengths and helping my weaknesses. Thank you for placing your trust in me as Editor-In-Chief. Thank you to my fellow East Side News journalists who are the most talented group of writers I’ve ever met. I’ve seen your growth over the years, and I have never felt more proud and amazed to see the passion you take with you into every story endeavor. You truly have done your due diligence as journalists and brought to the building incredible news and entertainment. I have high hopes for your futures. 

My biggest, most important thank you to Ms. Galvan. I remember meeting you for the first time and thinking you were the coolest student teacher I’ve ever met. We quickly began to share ideas and hopes for journalism, and our collaboration has been nothing short of inspirational (for me, at least). Thank you for having hope in me, when I definitely didn’t have it in myself. You won’t understand the impact you’ve had on my life. Thank you for speaking highly of me to those college admissions offices, to the teachers in the building, and to my peers. I’m sure you get sick of me – senior year was the year of missed deadlines – but I truly appreciate your patience and unwavering kindness. You know just how to uplift and encourage us as writers and as more than students, but as people. Thank you for being honest when we need it, for not sugarcoating the truth. Thank you for your passion in making East Side News everything we ever dreamed of. Thank you for everything, no wonder people call you Ms. G… because you’re the goat. (I’m so sorry future readers that joke wasn’t funny).

Good luck to Dominic, East Side News is in great hands. Since day one, you’ve had the charisma and curiosity to produce unique and innovative stories. You know exactly how to navigate your environment, ask the right questions, and most importantly, lead conversations. Don’t be afraid to reach for even bigger and better things. I better see your name all over famous newspapers (you will in fact be Editor-In-Chief of the New York Times). Godspeed, Dominic Taylor.

Finally, my goodbye.

Whoever is reading this, I hope you have the same passion I did in each of my years here, the same love for writing and reporting or for whatever it is you like to do. I hope I said the right things, and didn’t say the wrong ones and I really hope you don’t think I am incredibly uncool. 

Goodbye to East Side News, you’ve been the foundation of my confidence, my voice, and my passion. Thank you for teaching me to write, inquire, and grow. Wherever I end up, I’ll always remember and cherish the stories told in room 203.