I am going to begin with an anecdote my mother has told me to never admit. Sorry, Mom. During my first week at Vassar, I went to Professor Amitava Kumar’s faculty research presentation on his latest writing. He told us about student publications available for first-years to participate in, and mentioned The Misc. After his presentation, I sent him an email on August 22, 2022, at 9:03 p.m., which read:
Hello Professor Kumar,
My name is Carina Cole. I attended your faculty research presentation today and expressed interest in joining publications on campus. I am very interested in joining the Miscellany News and the Vassar Review. I have a passion for writing and journalism, and I participated in similar publications in high school. Any information or contacts you have for either would be greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
Carina Cole
So very formal, naive and ambitious. When I took ENGL/AMST 203: “These American Lives: New Journalisms,” Professor Kumar read this email aloud to the whole class on the first day, much to my chagrin. If I could go back in time, I would tell younger me to chill out a little—for more than one reason. I went into Vassar planning on becoming the Editor-in-Chief of The Miscellany News, just as I was the Editor-in-Chief of my high school’s newspaper. And, it happened. I became Editor-in-Chief of The Misc in the Fall of 2025. My mother has told me that to admit to my grand scheme of becoming Editor-in-Chief from the moment I walked onto Vassar’s campus would be very unbecoming, which is probably true. But I want to explain why I actually ended up becoming Editor-in-Chief, which has little to do with the unbridled ambition of my days of yore.
I wrote my first article for the Features section—which I would eventually become editor of—in September 2022; I wrote about ViCE exec members’ songs of the summer. It was a fine article, with decent quotes and a slightly cliche hook. I remember reading the paper around that same time and stumbling upon an article written by some guy named Luke Jenkins, also for the Features section. He wrote about the new registrar—a seemingly mundane topic. I scanned the article, my eyes landing on the second sentence, which described first-year students’ demeanor: “Chock-full of palpable insecurity, bursting with excitement, elbow-deep in the Deece’s ice cream freezer.” Oh, shit, I thought to myself. This is what journalism can be? This is how naturally funny and quippy some people my same age are? I’m fucked!
The same experience of being completely awe-struck at the talent of my peers happened again and again that year and the next. I remember sitting in some Rocky classroom and listening to Clara Alger interviewing for the position of News Editor, thinking that I had never heard someone so young be so eloquent and quick on their feet. I remember reading Alli Lowe’s news coverage and thinking I could never write about today’s most pressing issues with that much clarity and vigor. I spent a short amount of time comparing myself to these writers, but quickly realized that I should actually spend as much time learning from them as I could. And so that is what I set out to do, gabbing with Luke on the dingy, decrepit Misc office couches about poetry and Victorian Literature and the mechanics of New Journalism; sitting with Clara in the common rooms of Jewett House, learning more and more about journalism ethics while her hair got shorter and shorter with each passing month; sipping on chai lattes with Alli in Crafted as terrified first-years who wanted nothing more than to make a new friend. These three are now some of my closest friends, by the way, and I look forward to a (hopefully) long life accompanied by their endless joy, wit and kindness.
This is a sentiment that has been reflected numerous times throughout these senior retrospectives, but that is because it is true: The people are what make The Misc the indescribably special entity that it is. I could talk about how my time on The Misc has influenced my intellectual interest in post-truth, or how it has shaped my future career goals. These things feel less important than the people who have become some of my best friends. They feel less important than describing how on some of my absolute worst days I could climb the endless flights of stairs above Express, walk into the dusty office, plop down on one of those truly heinous couches and forget about whatever was bothering me for an hour or two or three.
We have a tradition where the past Editor-in-Chiefs write each other notes of encouragement and advice with thick black sharpie on the Editor-in-Chiefs office walls. One of these past figures, whose name I can’t put to a face, once wrote something along the lines of: The Misc gives you more than you can give it. A little bit of a cheesy sentiment, but also eloquent and sort of perfect. It’s true. I’ve given The Misc countless hours of my life—editing articles, writing articles, interviewing famous shoe designers and chess grandmasters, interviewing a scraggler in the Retreat who is too nice to say no to a student journalist on a tight deadline, answering thousands of emails, screening hate mail, replying to hate mail, flagging threats against me and other journalists, meeting with the College’s administration… you get the point. In return, The Misc has given me friendship, love, joy, sadness, stress, pride and anger. Most importantly, it has given me companionship and purpose.
It has given me phenomenal mentors to look up to—Allen, Charlotte, Maryam and Jacques, four incredible past Editors-in-Chief—and a whole staff of people who genuinely care about relaying the most accurate and pressing information to our community, those who are a part of Vassar’s bubble and those beyond.
I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention that student journalism is under attack to an alarming degree in this country right now. Sometimes the world felt like it was ending when I was sitting on the couches of that office. I was scared our coverage would hurt someone. I was scared our coverage was unintentionally biased. I was scared for our staff and their safety. No one should fear for their safety because of an article written in a student newspaper. No one should threaten student journalists. I’ve seen it happen, though. I know it happens.
What can you do about this reality, you might wonder, as you read this retrospective? There are crucial structural changes that need to be made, of course. But what can you do today, at this moment? Start picking up the paper. Start reading your local newspaper. Subscribe to your local newspaper. Start reading the newspaper of the college closest to you—to the high school closest to you. Start reading The Miscellany News, the newspaper of the college whose graduation ceremony you are currently attending. Stop making excuses for yourself. Reach out to a journalist, and give them some words of encouragement. I guarantee you they could use some right about now.
I am so sorry, but I am sure I am running out of space on InDesign. Thank you to the staff of The Miscellany News for being some of the most thoughtful and intelligent people I have ever met. Thank you to any and every professor and community member who has ever responded to our requests for a quote. Thank you to the Vassar community and people of Poughkeepsie for reading a student newspaper and trusting us to tell your stories.
I have to go now, and thank you, all of you, for reading. I hope you choose to continue reading for as long as you can.