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.

I have been annoying my whole life. I think I knew the phrase “well, actually…” before I could sing the alphabet. Terminally insufferable, my mom chalks it up to what she calls my “Waskeyitis,” a fictional genetic disease characterized by the need to fact-check, debate and beat a dead horse. It’s from my dad’s side. 

Through my extensive studies in incessant irritation, I have found that when I wear my opponent down, they usually sigh and tell me, “You should be a lawyer.” This quintessential backhanded compliment — likely reserved for eldest daughters who are constitutionally incapable of letting things go — is my favorite admission of defeat.

Because, “well, actually…” I don’t want to be a lawyer. I want to be a journalist. And since you’ve brought it up, I’m going to overexplain why. My identity was never built on winning arguments. It has always been built on getting things right.

Journalism, at its best, is not about proving a point; it is about building something that people can trust. It is a public service that does not ask who you are or what you can afford before it reaches you. It is information made accessible, accountability made visible and a record that belongs to the public before it belongs to those in power.

At The Collegian, that idea stopped being abstract and started looking like people. It looked like late nights and half-finished drafts, like names you double-check because they matter to someone, like stories that follow you home because you can’t quite stop thinking about them. Somewhere in all of that, without really noticing when it happened, I stopped writing for an assignment and found the real heart of journalism. I found a sincere love for my community.

One deeply beautiful thing about The Collegian — because, yes, of course I’m an annoying feminist — is being surrounded by women who care, too. I work in a newsroom dominated by women who were told in a hundred quiet ways to be easier to work with, easier to dismiss, easier to ignore — but they chose not to be. These are women who asked the follow-up anyway. They stayed longer, double-checked and pushed a little further than socially acceptable. These brilliant, “annoying” women taught me that precision is a form of respect, and that getting it right is a virtue. Michael Hovey is great, too.

At The Collegian, “annoying” stopped meaning what it used to. It’s no longer being difficult for the sake of it; it’s refusing to let things slide. The extra question, the follow-up interview, the quiet decision to pause and make sure: It’s just like that eldest daughter persistence. I’m sure it’s very annoying. 

And naturally, contested.

In my three short undergraduate years, I have watched journalistic freedom be challenged, narrowed and maliciously targeted. Trust in journalistic integrity has grown thin as the press becomes something to debate instead of a pillar for democracy to rely on. I think every journalist faces the temptation to step back right now.

Because frankly, this field feels impossible sometimes. The outlook is never good. When I tell people I want to be a journalist, they politely change the subject. 

But then I find myself in The Collegian newsroom, and I see some of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met do the work anyway. They show me, unintentionally, that a free press is not self-sustaining. It exists because some people decide over and over again to uphold it. 

I owe my Collegian success to Sam Hutton, my very first co-editor and Collegian ally, who saw something in me before I cared to. Sam, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. And to Claire VanDeventer and Chloe Rios, the future of the news desk: You are two of the most exceptional reporters I have ever worked with. Your prospects inspire me.

Maybe it’s the “Waskeyitis,” but I think I’ve always felt deeply devoted to the pursuit of knowledge. I think journalism is my first love.

So, as I leave, I want to make a promise: not to this newsroom, but to the people it serves, the people who trusted us to get it right. I promise to be annoying. I promise to ask the question after the answer, to call back when something doesn’t sit right, to stay longer than is convenient and to look closer than is comfortable.

I promise to care about the truth even when it is small, even when it is overlooked and even when no one is waiting to reward it. I promise to do this work with the understanding that it is not mine; because knowledge belongs to the public, and I am only responsible for carrying it forward.

If this field has taught me anything, it is that democracy, community and equality are built by the people who decide that accuracy matters, that accountability matters and that the truth is worth the time it takes to find it.

I intend to be one of those people. And honestly, I’ve never been very good at letting things go.

Chloe Waskey was the 2025-26 news editor of The Rocky Mountain Collegian. She can no longer be reached at news@collegian.com, but she can be reached on Instagram @chloe_cantdothis_617.