"I'm sorry I can't. I have The Chronicle."

“Hey, I’d love to but I have The Chronicle until 3 a.m.” “I’m sorry I can’t I have The Chronicle.” “Maybe after? I have to interview someone for this article.” “Raincheck for lunch? I’m running late in a meeting with Karla from University Relations right now.” “Hey, it’s Jill Leavey from The Chronicle. Your friend’s mother’s sister gave me your phone number. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

Those are actual texts. From me.

Over my three and a half years with our weekly student newspaper, I have sent the above texts to so countless people. I swear it wasn’t a made up excuse. I’m actually in the Student Center until sunrise sometimes. I will be the first to admit that I neglected responsibilities and relationships in the name of The Chronicle. But what I gained in return is incomparable. And I would do it all over again.

In Student Center 203 I learned what lectures and textbooks could never teach me: compassion.

There are times when The Chronicle is overwhelming. You have to interview the grieving friends of classmate who left the world too soon but not before he could leave an enormous impact on it . You hear firsthand accounts of hazing and you reflect on your own time in Greek life. You cover a lecture delivered by a Holocaust survivor and hear him warn about the rise of anti-Semitism today. And your heart breaks when you hear peers disclose how the school’s mental health resources, or lack thereof, failed them.

The Chronicle taught me that journalism isn’t about deadlines, ledes or AP style at all. Yes, we have them and yes we work off of them. You may have passed every exam in every journalism class and aced all the projects. But journalists need to take the time to put others first and practice empathy. Behind every story is a person. They are human just like you.

And while you never live these experiences with your sources they somehow become a part of you. You nervously type up the article and ask yourself “am I doing their story justice?” after every sentence. You choose your words very carefully and place each comma so deliberately. Then you still might mess and kick yourself eternally for a silly typo. After all, print is permanent. But you pull yourself together, learn from your mistakes and then do it all over again next week. And that’s The Chronicle.

 During my journey from Special to The Chronicle to Staff Writer to Assistant News Editor to News Editor to now Managing Editor, I was lucky enough to work alongside journalists, administrators and faculty who have accompanied me on my quest for compassion.

So, to Peter Goodman, Dean Lukasiewicz, Karla Schuster, Colin Sullivan, David Henne, Denise Boneta, and the entire journalism department: your support for The Chronicle has not gone unnoticed. I cannot begin to apologize for the urgent emails and frantic phone calls to which I have subjected you. Without you all, we, more specifically I, would not have been able to function.

To Katie Krahulik, Danny Nikander, Laurel O’Keefe and Michael Ortiz: thank you for everything. The lessons you passed on to a younger and overly ambitious journalist— me—  are irreplaceable. Words are unable to capture the effect you have all had on me.

 To Taylor Clarke and Melanie Haid, I hope I was able to teach you like you taught me.

To the past and present Chronicle staff: Thank you for your Spotify playlists, LinkedIn connections, life and career advice, InDesign competence and friendships that go beyond these office walls (that are most definitely squirrel infested.)

 And finally, to all the people who endured “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have The Chronicle”: I have a new excuse. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have law school.”