Board Editorial: Senior Farewells

What many of the Scroll’s readers may not see are the countless hours of hard work that board members dedicate to each and every issue. Once staff writers have completed their drafts, page editors spend their precious study hall hours at layout night, meticulously nitpicking word choices and sentence structures, finding missing information and interviews, and copy-editing for layout mistakes. Below, our editorial board reflects on their time with the Scroll, and the cherished lessons, memories, and community they found along the way.

I wasn’t supposed to be a Scroll writer. Freshman year, I missed the deadline for Staff Writer. Then, COVID-19 struck. Stuck in my room, I finally handed in my application for staff writer and began writing. I wrote about how Deerfield students fought COVID-19 heart-to-heart and found unexpected joy in interviewing people I had never talked with before. I wrote about how the Deerfield community confronted racism in the wake of George Floyd’s Death. Initially, I was scared of student reactions and angering the administration (we truthfully reported that they “did not respond to our requests for comments”). Yet, the flurry of reposts after the article’s publication reassured me — my article was important. I got a taste of what real journalism may look like. Junior year, I started writing Op-Eds on my own experience as an international student. One of them, “I’m Not a Grilled CC,” advocated using preferred names rather than legal names. When the Op-Ed was published, countless students reached out and I had several conversations with classmates about how their names were often also butchered at the Greer. Even more surprising, the administration emailed me and after months of hard work, I finally heard the name “Sunshine” when I ordered a Grilled CC. A casual Op-Ed written one hour before the deadline had changed something that mattered. From then on, I was hooked on journalism, the Scroll, and the impact our words could have on our community. 

Dear Scroll,

You’ve taught me lessons I never expected to learn when I first put my name down on your email list three and a half years ago. The skills I anticipated gaining—interviewing, concise writing, and improved grammar—now seem trivial compared to the larger experiences you’ve provided. Articles like “Is 80/20 in the Trash?” allowed me to explore nooks and crannies of campus that I never would have encountered otherwise. “Board of Trustees Meet on Campus” gave me the opportunity to interview the president of the board, form a relationship with Dr. Austin, and understand more of the school’s inner workings. You taught me to stand up for myself when Tony insisted that I hunt down A Boogie in the Hess basement to get an unsolicited interview. You taught me to navigate tense meetings, adapt to copyright fines, and deal with the consequences of pre-writing an article when the event ultimately gets canceled. You taught me what it feels like when the people you’re relying on fail to follow through, but also what it feels like to have that one person you can always depend on. You taught me how to utilize the weight of words, express my most pressing opinions, and use you as a platform for combating complacency. And you taught me how to lead (though I’m still working on yelling less during writers’ meetings).

Most importantly however, you taught me the importance of a community. Of knowing there are people relying on you to show up no matter what. You’ve shown me I have purpose in the times I lose sight of myself. You’ve given me a reason to leave my dorm room when all I want to do is disappear into oblivion. You’ve been my home when campus is otherwise profoundly alienating. 

I already know you’ll be the hardest goodbye when it comes time to leave this place.

With endless gratitude,

Clara

At a recent Scroll advisor meeting, Mr. Romick told me that nostalgia — excessive idealization of the past — is pointless. With that sentiment in mind, for this Board Ed, I won’t write about the Scroll nostalgically. Of course, I have positive memories with the Scroll, but the version of the Scroll I want to remember is the one that has shaped me into who I am today.

Like pieces of a puzzle, each experience I’ve had as part of the Scroll, positive or negative, has contributed to the bigger jigsaw of my current self; to enlarge one piece of my experience would simply mean altering the rest of the image. I’ll admit, some pieces are quite unattractive. Late nights spent in the basement of the Kendall, when I still had hours of homework left to do, were no fun. Yet these difficult pieces still create a perfect fit with the more appealing ones, which by far outnumber them. While I will remain grateful for the moments of adversity which turned into moments of growth, they are always coupled with memories that make my heart smile, like eating mango sticky rice from Thai Blue Ginger with others on layout night.

When I look back on the Scroll and look closely at the pieces that make up my memory, I see times of stress, sacrifice, laughter, and love. When I take a further step back, I see the Scroll as an organization which turned into my family.

On a cold winter evening in the Kendall basement, a dozen tired yet smiling teenagers, all dressed in variations of hoodies with sweatpants, sit around a large rectangular table, their eyes glinting with uncontrived enthusiasm for the news being discussed at hand, whether that be MLK Day, Jingle Mingle, or the first female president of the Board of Trustees. They talk, eat Thai food, do both, or do neither and finally get on with writing or editing the rest of their school paper. Together, they keep a hearth of invisible fire burning through the night, a fire that feeds on old copies of editions past, AP style guides, and most importantly, their genuine love, care and excitement for each other and the Scroll.

I will miss those evenings.

I remember the day I first came in as a staff writer. Never having experience of a school newspaper, I struggled with every step: preparing interview questions, reaching out to the interviewees, writing the article, and editing. Yet every time I stumbled upon a challenge, there were always people in the Scroll community willing to answer my questions, even including one regarding a punctuation rule at one in the morning. Now, as a part of the Scroll board, I understand that these quick and enthusiastic responses were not just a coincidence. I am inspired everyday by the board’s dedication to the Scroll and the tight-knit community we have fostered. Throughout all the late layout sessions and board meetings, I have truly experienced what teamwork means, and most importantly, I am grateful for the opportunity to create lifelong friendships that I’ll cherish even after my years at Deerfield. 

As a new junior, I applied to be a writer on the Scroll, hoping it could serve as an outlet for me to quickly immerse myself into the Deerfield community. After all, I love writing. At the beginning, I figured I would write for buzz or news, something that seemed like familiar territory for a junior girl. I did not consider writing for sports, as I felt as though I was not immersed enough into Deerfield sports culture to have control over a narrative about the topic. However, I started writing for sports after the page needed a writer and quickly fell in love with the page.

Writing for the sports page allowed me to connect with sports culture at Deerfield from all angles through interviewing athletes, coaches, administrators, and fans. I had always felt as though our sports programs – and all programs across the country sadly – are slightly male-dominated, but the Scroll allowed me to have a valued voice as a girl passionate about sports. Being the sports editor amplified this and allowed me to have even more control over the Scroll’s narrative around our athletic program and the culture that surrounds it.

Being on the Scroll board has taught me how to be a good leader, board member, writer, and friend. Whether it was how to properly use a semicolon or how to compromise on ideas, I learned something new every time I would go to the Scroll. Most importantly, though, the Scroll has allowed me to build friendships with some amazing people on campus, and I will miss everyone greatly!

Coming into Deerfield five weeks late as a new sophomore during the pandemic, I wasn’t sure I belonged. The first two weekends, I stayed in my room, watching YouTube videos and calling my friends from home, where I felt comfortable. However, when my then hall mate and now best friend/News Page Editor Neha invited me to a copy-editing session with the Scroll, I decided to apply to be a staff writer. At first, I was tentative about writing. I had never written for a publication before the Scroll, and I referenced at least five news articles from past issues to formulate an article that basically ended up getting rewritten. However, through constant opportunities and practice in writing for the Scroll, I obtained my own voice and distinguished tone. Come junior year, I took a gamble and applied to be an associate editor, where I grew closer to the board and learned how to use InDesign through tedious but entertaining workshops. I discovered the amount of work that went into producing the publication and wanted to get more involved as a senior. As the Editor for the Arts and Entertainment page this year, I learned to guide others to develop their voice through writing, just as the editors in previous years have done for me. The Scroll has taught me how to translate thoughts into words on paper. I will be forever grateful for the lifelong skills and, more so, friendships I’ve gained from this experience.

As a new sophomore during 2020, finding new activities and meeting people outside of my dorm “squad,” co-curricular, and classes was challenging. I always had a passion for writing and editing, so upon receiving an email from the, at the time, Editor and Chief of the Deerfield Scroll, I jumped at the chance to apply as a staff writer. I informed my proctor, who told me that a Scroll writer was a competitive position on campus to receive and that becoming a writer for the highly esteemed paper would not be easy; this notion only made the congratulations email that much more exciting. I immediately started writing for Buzz, and I never strayed away from this section that I now hold near and dear to my heart. I was originally intimidated at writers’ meetings as everyone seemed to have such creative ideas, where mine seemed to be too cliche or boring (in my opinion). However, as soon as I got my footing after my first article, I knew I had found a community on this campus. What I did not know was how much the school newspaper would truly impact my time at Deerfield. The Scroll introduced me to some of the most insightful, compassionate and witty people I know; it allowed me to lead some of my peers in a subject we share a passion for; it grew my interest in journalism further than I ever knew it could. I am forever grateful for the Deerfield Scroll, and I encourage all of those with time left at Deerfield to join the Scroll, because it is truly far more than just another club on campus. 

When I walked into the Scroll room as a freshman, I felt a surge of intimidation as I watched associates hovering over the table of senior editors, peeking at their computer screens, attempting to glean tidbits of the incognito conversations between the “holy trinity” editors, at the very top of the social hierarchy. As I eventually found myself seated at that very table, I realized that really, the senior editors were not all “that.” (I, myself, am far from being that perfect senior editor.) Also, those seniors became more than just intimidating officeholders — they were lighthouses during my most stressful times at Deerfield, second only to family.

As cliché as it is, I loved the Scroll more because of the people. They drew me in, taught me to perceive things in a world I never saw, and reminded me of the power of beautiful prose and informative journalism.

The News page has been integral to shaping my love for journalism and motivates me to inspire the next generation of Scroll writers.

Since my freshman year, my ambition, energy, enthusiasm and drive were fostered by all those who surrounded me at the Scroll — close friends like Caroline, Lucy, and Jerry; mentors like Harry, Mark, and Christian; confidants like Mr. Romick and Mrs. Schloat; my trusty successor Taryn; and all my favorite underclassmen. Of course, my passion has been consumed by the incessant stress of balancing too many things on a small plate at Deerfield, but I know that it is not necessarily that I lost my love for the Scroll. I’m sad to leave behind the people of the Scroll; I will always remember what they taught me, and I know I’m ready to re-ignite that ambition, energy, enthusiasm, and drive for the future ahead.

Joining the Scroll as a sophomore in both of the graphics and photo sections, I found a new perspective of creating and utilizing art. I’m grateful for the lessons I learned in the Scroll about photojournalism, and I cherish the bonds we build in the Scroll room. I will miss everyone and the Scroll, and I also encourage everyone with passion to join the Scroll for the opportunities, experiences, and friendships it has brought us.

I remember the immense pride I felt the first time I saw my graphics printed on the Scroll. It was sophomore year, and I sent a picture of it to my parents as it was the first time that I had a drawing published. Now, having been the Graphics editor for two years, I feel immensely grateful to help other artists on this campus showcase their art in print too. I work with a team of graphic artists with a great variety of flair: each time I open their graphics I’d be surprised with the creative agency they took with the prompts. Through these years working with Scroll’s graphics, I learned to be a leader who empathizes with our graphic artists (having been one myself), and take on extra responsibilities whenever it is required, so that the Scroll can move forward efficiently in unison. I have been greatly in- spired by the dedication that my Scroll peer editors put into their work, and I will miss this team’s passion when we part ways this year.