Editor’s Note: Traditionally, graduating seniors working at The Collegian are given the chance to write a farewell note at the end of their tenure at CSU.

To be honest, I’m terrified. As I continue to put off assignments, ignore the thought of what happens after these next couple weeks and generally avoid facing reality, writing a goodbye to The Collegian is the one reality I can’t ignore. For the past three years, twice a week I could count on walking into an office teeming with some of the most spectacular and magical people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. This time as print director has been filled with some of the most rewarding days I’ve spent as an artist.

I’m scared to find out the person I am without my late nights in the bullpen, stressing about an impending deadline or worrying whether or not the printer will call in the morning to inform us that none of our pages were named properly. What will my Tuesdays look like in the future when I can’t pester the copy desk when they really should be doing their incredibly important work?

So much of myself has been poured into this paper. Who I am as a designer, artist and person are all deeply informed by the rhythm of production nights, the sound of final checks and the strange mix of exhaustion and pride in a paper created by people who care deeply about getting it right.

To every page designer who has worked with me, I cannot say thank you enough. For every puzzles page I didn’t have to design, you allowed me to spread my creative wings. Without complaints or hesitation, you took on the challenge of turning ideas into something tangible, something permanent. 

This paper wouldn’t have functioned without the constant dedication of Allie Seibel and Hannah Parcells. I have never met two people more obsessed with telling the truth and sharing it with their peers than you two. Thanks for steering this ship; we would have capsized without you.

And Caden Proulx, words cannot express my gratitude to you for putting up with my nonsense every week. From suffering through my sometimes eclectic music taste, to shouldering the weight of our focus page, I couldn’t have done it without you. No matter what time you would show up, I knew I could always count on you to bring light to our windowless corner of the student center. 

Another person I couldn’t have imagined these years without is Willow Engle. I can’t sing your praises enough. It’s been such a pleasure getting to know you and watching you flourish from across the office. No one quite understands my Twitter references the way you do. More than anything, I’ll miss talking a little louder than we probably should, gossiping about everything and offering our unsolicited opinions to anyone who will listen.

I’m endlessly grateful for you, Claire Vogl. I don’t know what I’ll do without your level head and full heart. Empathy and care don’t come easily to everyone, but they seem to flow effortlessly from you. Whether it was stepping away to chat under the stairs for a breath of fresh air during a hectic production night or simply being there to listen, you always showed up for me. No matter what I was complaining about, I could always count on you to be on my side.

The hardest goodbye is to The Collegian itself. Seeing the paper I’ve helped create every week has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my undergraduate program. To be ingrained in our community in this way has been a privilege that I will appreciate and hold close for years to come. Not many people can say they got to see their name on newsstands across their college town, and I’m immensely proud to be one of them.

So yes, I’m terrified. I’m a nervous wreck. Leaving The Collegian in the hands of someone else is giving me hives just thinking about it. But if these past three years have taught me anything, it’s that this paper will be just fine. It will keep growing, evolving and finding new people to pour themselves into it the same way I did. And as hard as it is to step away, I know I’m leaving behind something that mattered. So please, continue to grab your copy of The Collegian every Thursday, and remember that behind every page is a group of people pouring their time, energy and heart into telling the stories that matter.

Nathan Carmody was the 2023-26 print director of The Rocky Mountain Collegian. He can no longer be reached at design@collegian.com, but he can still be reached on social media @alanson.art.