�ڰ�������

I think most people who’ve spent time in Hanover have a favorite view.

For some, it might be the fire tower on Gile Mountain…. Or the view from Moosilauke, or the top of the Skiway right before gliding down. Maybe you like people-watching from Collis Porch or looking out from the Baker Bell Tower.

For me, my favorite view has always been right over there on the second floor of Robinson Hall.

I spent a lot of time up there during my tenure as editor-in-chief of The �ڰ�������. While not set atop a mountain, I often insist to friends I had the best view on campus — overlooking the Green, the newsroom’s windows open onto �ڰ������� in motion.

There’s a metaphor here. I’m an English major, so bear with me. The D also gave me a window into the lives of my peers — the people and places they care about, their favorite spots to eat, their research, the causes they support, the classes they loved. Through interviews and articles, I got to visit corners of �ڰ������� I’d never otherwise see.

The D has a rule that reporters can’t interview people they know. It doesn’t, however, have a rule that we can’t get to know the people we interview.

Over the past four years, I really came to know my classmates. Over the past four years, I have had the best view — literal and metaphorical — of the �ڰ������� community.

The �ڰ������� community is unique. My classmate Cristian gave me an inside look at ice fishing, the kind of PE you can only find at a school like �ڰ�������. I learned why Winter Carnival was dinosaur-themed from Noah, our beloved Carnival co-chair — and the self-proclaimed “dinosaur guy” on campus. I watched all of you respond to changes at �ڰ������� — new leadership, construction, a switch from Coke to Pepsi.

David wasn’t happy about that one, telling The D he needed a Monster Zero to get “any sort of work done.” I see David in the audience looking bright and alert, so I’m glad to report he was able to find another caffeine source!

The �ڰ������� community is hardworking. I’ve cheered on more accomplishments in our class than I can remember — like when Lulu and other film students helped staff the Sundance Film Festival. Or when Gavin, a self-described “weather geek,” won a Truman Scholarship. Or when the women’s rugby team secured the 7s national championship.

The �ڰ������� community is caring. I’ve seen the compassion my peers demonstrate for others. The rotating groups cooking at Hanover Community Kitchen every Friday evening. The ’25s mentoring local kids through the community organization DREAM. The countless seniors supporting students who hiked the �ڰ������� Fifty from the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge to Hanover — something Elliot called the “best representation of �ڰ������� in a tradition.”

The �ڰ������� community is resilient. In the newsroom, we’ve covered the challenging moments, too. Geopolitical conflict. Unprecedented political polarization. Attacks on universities that threaten to destabilize higher education. And I watched our class respond to these moments with profound poise, resilience, and desire for positive change. And most of all, with a genuine care for the people sitting beside us today.

Because of this, I can confidently say: I couldn’t have asked for a better view of �ڰ�������. Mine was better than Gile. Better than the Bell Tower. Better even than the view from up here — though you’re all looking great. Because I had the privilege of not only sharing the Class of 2025’s energy and compassion through The D, but also of seeing it firsthand.

Now here’s the part where I get sentimental talking about the future.

After we graduate, there’s a risk that we’ll only learn about our classmates’ lives through newspaper clippings and social media posts. While I can’t wait to see the headlines and the positive change the Class of 2025 will make, we all should make an effort to hear each other’s stories firsthand.

To go, as journalists like to say, directly to the source. Because it’s never been about just the words on the page. It’s about listening to one another, checking in, offering support in good times and bad. At �ڰ�������, we go beyond the headlines. We get to know each other. We connect. After all, no article can ever tell the whole story — or capture this place and the people who make it so special.

On that note, I’d like to take a moment to thank the people who are most special to me. To my family and loved ones — Mom, Dad, Ben, Alex, Em, all my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins here today — thank you for your unwavering love and support. To my friends, my professors, the College staff and faculty, anyone who’s ever received an interview request — or a Google Docs notification from me removing an Oxford Comma at 2 a.m. — you make the �ڰ������� community what it is. Thank you for this incredible day and these life-changing past four years. And to President Beilock, the Board of Trustees, and everyone who came to support us today: I am so honored to have had the opportunity to talk about how much I love this place.

In journalism, we use a lot of words that sound silly beyond the newsroom. Stet. Dek. Slug. My favorite is not really a word at all — it’s a combination of letters. TKTK. A deliberately misspelled acronym for “to come,” the four-letter combo is used as a placeholder — a stand-in for a name, a date, a quote, for something in our reporting that’s yet “to come.”

As we graduate, I challenge you all to consider your “TKTKs.” To think about the change you hope to see. The impact you have yet to make. And as you write your stories, don’t forget to think about our class. Keep going beyond the headlines. Keep getting to know each other. Keep connecting. Bring the �ڰ������� community — the uniqueness, the hard work, the care, the resilience — wherever you go next.

Looking at you — at the kind, incredible, truly inspiring Class of 2025 — I’m confident there’s so much more to come.
To the �ڰ������� College Class of 2025: thank you, congratulations, and, of course, Go Big Green!