By Paul A. Anthony, Editor in Chief

“The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villainous-licentious-abominable-infernal-Not that I ever read them-No-I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper.”

-The Critic (1779), by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

A young, scared freshman who had never taken a journalism class in his life sat on the floor in an overflowing Room 108 of the Don H. Morris Center four years ago and listened.

The tall, loud woman at the front of the room told the group of Welcome Weekers she did not encourage freshmen to volunteer for student media positions. And this freshman thought he was just fine with that.

He would wait until he was a sophomore to write for the Optimist, he thought. Then he would maybe do a little more-just enough to graduate. He certainly did not want to be editor.

Pause for laughter.

Four years later, after turning out the lights on more than 100 papers of which I was editor in chief, I am putting a journalistic microcareer to bed.

Somewhere between that intimidated freshman on the floor and this senior who has battled probably every administrator-and many students-on campus, something happened.

Well, a lot of somethings.

First came Sept. 11. Then an anthrax scare. Injuries at the Bell Tower, a flood in Gardner Hall, a fire in Nelson, the death of five students, a Sing Song review that left friends fearing for my life, a snowstorm that canceled classes for the first time in 67 years-and that was just sophomore year.

Eight semesters I’ve spent covering campus, local and national news for the Optimist. That included a terrorist attack, two wars, an election, countless Students’ Association scandals and just as many Chapel changes.

That tall, loud woman at the front of the room now is this paper’s adviser, the rock who has helped us weather dozens of storms. And the scared-and single-freshman now has a fiancZ, a job and a hundred-page compilation of controversies in which the Optimist has been embroiled the past two years.

And along the way, my friends and I-who happen to put out a newspaper twice a week-were judged the best college paper in the state.

That’s probably what I’ve taken away from this introduction to journalism-a singular profession where, as Dr. Kenneth Pybus has noted, most of its practitioners are introverts whose job descriptions require talking to people.

I’ve learned the institution sometimes can frustrate, but the people care.

It’s easy to complain about curfew, parking and parking tickets, the weather, the GATA Fountain, the “residence halls” or the Bean. It may even be justified.

But the people behind the institution are what matter. The Optimist may be the best paper in the state. And “it” may be perceived as anti-SA, anti-Chapel, anti-social club or anti-vegetables. But the staffs with whom I’ve worked are the best in the state-the best student journalists in the state, certainly, but also the best people.

And while I’ve heard people express the same sentiment as Sheridan’s Mr. Dangle-the Optimist gets it wrong, but I’ve never read it-I’ve received more compliments, even from those with whom the Optimist has fought.

Those compliments mean the most. I never pretended I would make everyone happy. Journalists never should. But if I can make everyone mad and still have their respect, I have done my job well.

Likewise, I leave respecting ACU and its administrators-the people behind the institution. They care, and they helped turn this intimidated freshman into a prepared, confident graduate.