Since August, I’ve had to lie to myself every day. “My work is very, very important,” I’d tell my reflection as I brushed my teeth in the mornings.
The depth of my delusion cannot be understated. Editorials were planned around when we knew the Board of Governors would be in town, as if they might pick up a paper, scratch their heads and decide they might as well govern with integrity. Can you imagine!
As I prepare to descend to earth, it’s humbling to see that the opinion page hasn’t led to comprehensive racial justice, the downfall of the NCAA or an end to poverty.
I’m also recognizing this delusion of difference-making has the potential to be a dangerous thing in the hands of a college kid, which is why I’m so grateful for the editorial board members, columnists, cartoonists and editors who have suspended disbelief alongside me.
For the past nine months, we’ve lived in a world where a stuffed otter could become the desk’s most beloved member, where hour-and-a-half editorial board meetings could be the highlight of our weeks and where one board member — and I won’t say who — would come to grudgingly accept the nickname “Baby Bear Brian.”