[Courtesy of The Fordham Ram]

College is the best four years of your life. 

If you know me, or are taking the writing the original TV pilot class with me this semester, you know I strongly disagree with this statement. Actually, it’s less of a disagreement and more of a belief that this saying is super depressing. If this statement is correct, then the best four years of your life are over by the time you’re 22 and, hopefully, we all have a lot more living to do past then. 

However, when I started college, this saying colored my expectations of what the next four years of my life would look like. I expected each day to feel like my life was an early 2000s/2010s coming-of-age movie. I imagined “Pitch Perfect,” sans the a cappella drama. I had visions of meeting my best friends during move-in, of meeting my soulmate on day one in an overcrowded gymnasium during orientation and endless afternoons spent on the “quad.” 

I must have missed the coming-of-age college flick that starts in the middle of a global pandemic. Needless to say, college in 2020 was nothing like the movies. Unless, of course, that film is reminiscent of “Contagion” with a deleted scene of Zoom philosophy class. So, let’s just say that freshman year was not one of the best four years of my life. 

The start of the fall semester brought with it what would change the trajectory of my college career from flop to bop: the club fair. During my cabin fever days sequestered in my dorm room, otherwise known as being socially distant, I started writing for the opinion section of The Fordham Ram. And in the fall of 2021, they were recruiting a new batch of copy editors. 

I, and my overly passionate views of grammar, signed up for the Tuesday night slot. At first, I sat quietly in a corner of the copy table, a piece of my soul dying every time I had to remove an Oxford comma, until I started to keep up with the rapport between the copy team. I’m convinced my promotion from copy editor to executive copy was because I stuck to that copy table like a barnacle to a boat — shoutout to Vanessa and Ginny for welcoming me into the fold. Whatever the reason, I could feel my “Pitch Perfect” college years sliding into place with that promotion. 

In the spring of 2022, we formed an intramural volleyball team, and we brought a lot more enthusiasm than ability to the court. I was starting to feel like I found those people to spend a respectable number of afternoons camped out on Eddie’s with.  

Tragically, for some, not for me, I left my little Ram family to study abroad in London. However, I couldn’t get away from the Ram entirely, even with an ocean between us, and was tasked, nay forced, to write a study abroad column by our Production Editor, Michael Sluck. 

Upon landing back on this side of the pond, I took up the role of Editorial Director. With it came the task of writing the editorial each week and a bump up to an e-board position. Descending back into that windowless basement, it felt like no time had passed, and I fell back into the rhythm of the Ram instantaneously.       

Now, this is the point in the From the Desk where I’m supposed to issue my goodbyes to those who made the journey and the late nights producing a newspaper worth it. But, I am famous for invoking the classic Irish goodbye. However, I am challenging myself to teach an old dog new tricks, and making good on the few minor threats from other staffers on the type of goodbye they expected, to say a proper goodbye to the Ram.   

As I write this, the copy table group chat has set off an incessant buzzing of a barrage of text messages ranging from iPhone games to planning a bowling outing. The copy table and the people at it are what brings a smile to my face, even if I’ve had a tough day, and make me chuckle the next morning thinking about a particularly funny “your mom” joke courtesy of the lovely Sophia Forlenza. In short, to keep this from a gushing, rambling mess, the copy table is what makes the Ram so special to me.

Cailee, you’re the newest addition to our merry band of copy editors and are proof of just how magnetic our table really is by seamlessly joining our ranks. Nora and Nicki, I’ve immensely enjoyed the time we’ve spent working together, and I will miss the nights of playing skribblio.io.  

The copy table not only gave me a gaggle of friends but my lovely roommate as well. Thank you, Amanda, for not only picking me up like a stray cat from out of our backyard but for being an amazing friend for the past few years. 

To my five fine friends, it’s been a privilege to work alongside you, but an even bigger one to call you my friends. Sophia, you’re my voice of reason and a true friend. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. At least, that’s what your mom said yesterday. Hannah, I love our yelled debates across the copy table about whether it’s a shark bite or a shark nibble. I love you like you’re my little sister. Kari, I love our publishing discussions and can’t wait to read what you have in store for us. Isabel, thank you for keeping me company on the night shuttle and for being an amazing leader this year. Nicole, thank you for thinking of a title for 99% of the editorials and not saying anything when I turn in massive articles — like this one. I am forever thankful that the Ram brought an unconditional friend like you into my life. 

To the rest of my e-board members, Seb, Matt and Frances, thank you for keeping budget meetings interesting and for your help in creating our beloved newspaper. 

Last, but not least, thank you to Michael. Your editorial skills are in a league of their own, but where you truly shine is as a friend. Thank you for walking me home after production night and for going to obscure poetry exhibits with me. I promise, I’ve learned how to spell dinosaur. Or is it dinosour? Dinosoar? I’ll get it one of these days.  

So, was college the best four years of my life? I hope not. I hope my best years are still to come. But the Ram gave me the people who made sure my college years were some damn good ones.