144 Years Later
By ALIA BONANNO ‘23
When I first arrived at Exeter as a new lower, I did not know how to navigate the landscape of Exeter. I did not know who to make friends with, how to speak in my classes, how to join clubs. I was shy and afraid to look amateur or reveal my ineptitude. When I joined The Exonian, some of this changed. I had an outlet to feel successful in— I loved seeing my name in byline after byline each week. I devoured the hours of interviews and conversation with my cowriters, relishing in the way I had been included in the community, incorporated into something bigger than myself. I would not love Exeter the way I do without The Exonian.
When I became Managing Editor, I was similarly exhilarated. I was relieved the work I had done had helped me get there, and I was excited to enact all of the ideas I had, to work alongside a board of equally motivated peers. In some ways, that ambition manifested in action. Our board accomplished a lot; in our first few weeks, we completed the Year in Review. We managed to pull together a Graduation Issue without any guidance from previous boards. We sent people to summer programs across the country. And yet, when I think about those in relation to my initial hopes, I can’t help but feel disappointed.
See, what they don’t tell you about being a Managing Editor is that your goals are secondary, necessarily, to the well-being of the paper. It took me a long time to come to terms with this, to realize that my primary purpose was not to make a name for myself or to prove to anyone why I deserved the position, but rather to ensure that we were publishing a paper each week and that nothing went terribly wrong.
Another thing they don’t tell you is the inherent barrier between the Executive Board and Upper Boards and writers. Each time I would read a criticism of the way our board ran things, I found myself frustrated, because all of those critiques came from a place of misunderstanding, and of a similar ambition I once had. They weren’t written in the context of my position, and so I can forgive each misstep I think these pieces took. This is not to say I think the barrier between the boards should be lowered; transparency, while important, is not tantamount. It is more important, I think, for writers to learn to write, to learn to be coworkers, to learn to balance extracurriculars and academics, and to value The Exonian as a newspaper, not as a way to get ahead. The Exonian is not The New York Times and maintaining that is so incredibly important. There is nothing quite like a student newspaper. It’s a place where we learn, sometimes, what our passions are. It’s a place where we make friends and integrate ourselves into the community. It is not a place to launch ourselves into the professional world or to become the youngest Editor-in-Chief of the Post.
Sometimes, I forgot this. But more often than not, I fought to protect it. So much of our board’s tenure was defined by recovering from previous boards. It was defined by wanting, more than anything, to maintain The Exonian’s status as an excellent student newspaper, and nothing more. It is my opinion that we have accomplished that task. While motivation was lacking sometimes, in the end, there was a cohesive and collective sense of duty in our board to shape the paper in that direction. I could go on and on about everything that I wish could have been different, or that I wish I would have done differently, but in the end, I loved every minute of this experience, even when I hated it. I am deeply indebted to everyone I have worked with on this paper. I could not have had a job without the editors, and certainly not without the writers. Each and every one of you has pushed me to my limits and kept me going when I didn’t think I could.
Thank you for everything.