By Leah Cox
Dear Mr. Newman and Period 7 Newspaper Journalism,
In sadness, I write this open “goodbye” letter to Mr. Newman and the fifteen or so girls who have made this class worth every word, clause, question, inner thought, quotation mark (after the period, of course), landscape photo, incompatible HEIC image, Rev transcription (as in the website not the chaplain), article draft that was never published, and grade self-eval.
To my classmates (this includes Katie Maier ‘22, Katie Meier, Gisella Brok, and Mackenna Stewart),
This class, above all others, has taught me the importance of listening, learning, and letting go. For an industry that NPR says is “dying,” The OnLion made me feel alive. I entered this class as a sophomore and set on having a future in journalism. I thought the only articles worth publishing were “groundbreaking” or “edgy” in some way. I published several articles slightly under or over 2000 words. I researched, researched, and researched (and rarely interviewed). And while I still like to write more “serious” articles, from my classmates, I learned the art of letting go. For a person who thinks deeply about most topics, this is hard to do. But hearing Taylor Johnson and Olivia Janis come up with the most random and culturally relevant article ideas really didn’t inspire me to get out of my shell. Over time, I think I succeeded in thinking of light-hearted topics to make them deeper and more complex, even using Reddit and TikTok as valid, reputable sources in a couple of articles. As the only senior in the class (until Sarah Garrett came this year), I think I developed something akin to a sisterly bond with the other girls. Some of the things they were going through, I had gone through as well, so I was able to mentor them as best as I could. Megha Lakha, who entered Newspaper in ninth grade, was never shy to ask questions and ask for my advice. But it made me so happy to answer her. This was the same for Keya Nijhawan and Beza Kifle, who both sought my help from Honors American Studies to the Student Service Board. I’m so immensely grateful for the laughs we shared these past three years. All of you I will never forget.
To my chair and that one corner in the hallway,
Thank you for providing me with comfort during class. For almost three years, I sat in the same seat every Newspaper class. When you walk into US 219, you’ll see Mr. Newman’s standing (and sometimes sitting) desk. Immediately to the right of it is (or was) my chair. Though Mr. Newman never once assigned seats in his class, I took it upon myself to assign myself to that seat. I’ll admit, there were a handful of times where that seat was occupied or elsewhere (for some reason), and my writing suffered during those class periods, but all was well once I sat in my wheeled chair and desk.
The corner in the hallway along the second-floor art gallery was another place of comfort. I wrote some of my most controversial and “probably will end up on Education Veritas” articles there. That spot allowed me to think, think, and think. Despite its lack of a charging outlet, it had exactly what I needed to write: peace and quiet. Over the course of three years, I would say about 50 teachers, including Mr. Boswell, asked if I was uncomfortable on the floor. I appreciated their concern, but always responded with a “no” or “I’m alright” or “no worries, I usually sit here.” I guess sometimes we can’t help the places we call comfortable!
To Mr. Newman,
Thank you for teaching me the art and craft of writing. Up until tenth grade, I treated writing as a game. The one where you rush to get to the end. From Mr. Newman, I learned that writing favors the tortoise, not the hare. One should never rush to end a story, because perhaps you might miss it altogether. There’s power in allowing the story to write itself—and even more power in allowing the interviewee to write the story for you. My first few months in this class, I couldn’t get over the awkwardness of one-on-one interviews with students and faculty. I was sometimes intimidated and irritated by the forever-long pause that came after the interviewee’s response and before my next question. But through observation of Mr. Newman’s fresh and unique sense of humor, confidence, and patience, I learned that the secret to a really great interview is to treat it like any old conversation. An interview, in some ways, is like a sport. You have to prepare for it and know the material so well that you can ask questions from memory in a way that doesn’t sound rehearsed. You have to know the right questions to ask, in the right manner, in order to get the desired outcome. Of course, you can’t control all the variables, which is why you have to be comfortable with scrapping all prepared material in the first place to go with the flow. Frankly, I think Mr. Newman helped me improve my conversational skills in general!
There were so many little things about Mr. Newman’s class that brought me joy and appreciation. His humor for one, never failed to make me laugh a lot (or cringe a little). He created an environment that made all of us feel like we could breathe (or snort laugh like I did). But more than his kind spirit, I think I learned the most from Mr. Newman about the power of patience. My brain can move at a million miles per hour, spinning with ideas, words, and phenomena all at the same time. Over the past three years, this made it difficult for me to maintain enthusiasm about an article if my brain had already thought of the next great idea. I don’t think it took long for Mr. Newman to see this pattern. But, like with all his students, he worked with me to get the job done. I seriously cannot thank Mr. Newman enough for his patience and willingness to work with me and my mind.
It is with teary eyes that I close this letter. Newspaper Journalism allowed me to interview a civil rights activist, an investigative journalist known for his role in reporting on one of the world’s biggest political scandals, a Lovett alum and astronaut, a Southern poet, a couple of newlywed teachers, and my fellow classmates in the Upper School. I covered some pretty cool topics: from the #FreeBritney movement to the Syrian earthquake/butterfly effect, to heteronormativity on Valentine’s Day and celebrity stan culture. Newspaper class gave me the opportunity to unleash so many of my inner thoughts in carefully edited and published material.
Newspaper Journalism, thank you for all that you have given me.
With bittersweet sadness and the ultimate gratitude,
Leah Denise Cox
