I remember my first encounter with The Signal. I attended an interest session as a doe-eyed freshman. I was impressed by the overall appearance of the editorial staff. They had confidence and inside jokes in spades. One of them wore a leather jacket. It was still welcome week, and I didn’t have any of those things yet. I hadn’t written a single article but my friend Jeff and I had already decided that by our senior year we were going to make a run for Editor-in-Chief — a friendly competition. We never reached the finish line but I ended up working alongside Jeff for a semester as Features Assistant until he moved on to news and I took over the position of Features Editor my senior year.
Although slightly less ambitious, I think I was probably better off. I wasn’t cut out for the weekly news cycle or a position of management but I was a perfect candidate for soft news and free pizza. I never made it to the top, but I really enjoyed making the things I made on the way — whether they be gratuitous Signal ads or new friends.
former Features Editor
Coming down to The Signal on Mondays and working on the paper all day was always a pain in the butt. It was the hardest when I knew the sun was shining outside or I had lots of work to catch up on. There were times I wished the Editor-in-Chief would cancel the week’s edition. Unfortunately, they never did. I complained, I pouted, and I also had the most fun when I was down there. The Signal is the ultimate love/hate relationship, and I wouldn’t change my experience with my editors (my friends) for anything in the world.
former News Editor
Part of me never thought this day would come. Not so much because I have not come to terms with the fact that I am graduating and leaving The Signal forever, but because I literally thought being in a basement for three years would claim my life and I would die from some sort of ventilation problem.
I assumed my body would just be kicked aside on production night and blanketed with proofed pages until garbage day came. Morbidity aside, that is the reality of the newspaper — it outlasts us all. I have spent six semesters at the best college newspaper in New Jersey and after a quick calculation, a conservative estimate equates my time in the dungeon to about 1,064 hours or 44 entire days. I have spent time as Sports Assistant, Sports Editor, Managing Editor, Senior Editor and two semesters as Editor-in-Chief. I have about 125 entries on the paper’s website. Now I’m leaving and in three years, no one will know who I am. Looking back on all of this, I must be fucking crazy, but I always loved it. I’ve learned more at The Signal than in any class, and as I write this, it is 11:11 a.m. Make a wish. I wish I don’t get mesothelioma. Damn … now it won’t come true.