Exit Letter: Naima Nods Off

I am not a people person. This is perhaps an understatement: While I like to think of myself as relatively easygoing and I love my close friends dearly, I am also the type of person who would be content to spend most of my time alone, reserving a small amount of time to texting people to confirm I’m alive. Over my past four semesters on the Editorial Board, I’ve managed all the meetings and Slack threads necessary in order to keep the mass of editors, writers, and other contributors to each week’s issue on track. I talk to dozens and dozens of people daily. Unsurprisingly, this was not the plan.

My first introduction to the paper came less than a month into my freshman year when I was interviewed for Willow Delp ’26’s “Anti-Ableist Amherst” column. Unbeknownst to them, I was already familiar with their writing on ableism at Amherst; prior to arriving on campus, I’d read their previous articles to understand what my own experience at Amherst as a disabled student might look like. Those articles weren’t the only Student articles I’d read that summer. For a variety of reasons, I never visited the Amherst campus prior to committing and had devoured past articles in a bid to understand the place I was committing to.

When I found myself with too much free time in the spring semester of my freshman year, applying for the position of Opinion editor seemed like a natural choice. I had no experience, or even any strong interest, in journalism, but I knew from my time leading philosophy debate teams in high school that I found the back-and-forth process of trying to strengthen someone else’s argument rewarding, and that seemed to be all that was necessary. I applied, and within the next few weeks, I was spending my Tuesday nights in the newsroom alongside then-Opinion Editors Edwyn Choi ’27 and Willow. There was a bit of being thrown into the deep end. Unlike some other sections of the paper, Opinion pieces don’t follow any sort of standard format, so it took a while to figure out an editing process and approach I could say worked for me.

That semester, I was sometimes overwhelmed by the chaos of the newsroom, but I loved my section, and I found it rewarding to see the tangible result of our efforts when the newspapers appeared in Frost Library on Wednesday mornings.

I unexpectedly became a senior managing editor (SME) the next semester, and moving from the comfortable corner I’d carved out, predictably, made me feel unmoored. My actual reason for joining the paper — editing opinion pieces — was no longer my primary responsibility, and my general passion for journalism wasn’t quite strong enough to serve as a new source of direction. I was also now responsible for polishing the work of editors whom I looked up to, which was an incredibly weird feeling. Transitioning from SME to editor-in-chief (EIC) the next semester was even more destabilizing. 

Right now, it is just past 12:30 p.m., and most editors are beginning to leave the newsroom. In my time as a senior editor, I’ve found that my quiet, late-night experiences in the newsroom have been a large part of why I’ve stayed on each semester. I like to joke that the newsroom puts my insomnia to good use, and in a way, it does. There have also been times where it hits 3 a.m., and even I’m ready to give up for the night and sleep, and I end up staying for whatever additional time is necessary anyway.

As I’ve been writing this letter, I’ve read multiple exit letters from previous EICs that attempt to finally answer the question everyone who witnesses you deal with the marathon of production night or Wednesday-morning crises: “Why do you do this to yourself?”

My answer is because it’s the only choice. While my predecessors Kei Lim ’25 and Dustin Copeland ’25 did a lot to bring a sense of work-life balance to the newsroom, I also heard a lot of stories about their predecessors forgoing sleep entirely as production stretched into Wednesday morning, too focused on perfecting the week’s issue before the 9 a.m. deadline. What took me a while to realize was that I cared about perfecting the work we do not because of some internalized perfectionism (predictably, I began this letter at the last minute) or the culture of the newsroom. It was just that there were people who expected me to show up for them, and I found myself caring about them deeply.

Very simply, the Amherst community places a lot of faith in the work we do. It is a huge privilege as a student editor to be trusted with some of the stories we’ve told: In the past two weeks alone, we have interviewed students sharing deeply personal accounts of harassment, mourning a friend, and speaking candidly about workplace grievances despite potential backlash. I’ve had a lot of people come to me with story tips or ideas about what to address in an editorial, and even when we do not end up basing an article on their suggestions, I’m struck by their belief that a group of students is not only capable of bringing light to these issues, but the best people to do so.

Telling these stories is a responsibility that’s become especially difficult in the current political climate. Keeping the people who trust us with important information safe has conflicted with longstanding precedent about ensuring transparency in our reporting. We’ve tried to negotiate the balance between being good journalists and being good community members in this time. I hope we’ve done so as gracefully as possible. I’m also incredibly proud of all the growth I’ve witnessed among editors and I’m grateful for the chance to contribute to it.

Unfortunately, I do not have the space to end this letter by thanking every editor I’ve looked to for guidance over my time on The Student or thank everyone who has supported me outside the newsroom, but I wanted to end by expressing my gratitude towards some of the people who have shaped my time on the paper.

To Willow: Thank you for bringing me into the newsroom and for reminding me to take care of myself outside it. 

To Kei and Dustin: I still look up to both of you as editors and as the people who trusted that I was capable of far more than I believed myself to be. 

To Michael: Thank you for curating the perfect playlists for 3 a.m. edits with me, and managing to teach me InDesign shortcuts despite the sleep deprivation.

To Edwyn and Anna: You two are some of the most dedicated people I know, and I’m looking forward to still being on campus next year to see what you do as our next EICs — I’m confident that you guys will make an incredible team. 

To June: Thank you for spending the past year and a half by my side each week, and for promising to still put up with me in retirement — you’re the best partner I could have asked for.