I am a writer. I am the bottom of the food change – the littlest cheese. Associates get paid more than I do. In fact, I’m so near rock bottom that I am hardly ever invited into the dark abyss of the basement of Morse Hall to help “edit” this glorious section. This is not to say I have never seen the insides of the newspaper headquarters. Nay! I have seen the belly of the whale that is our school’s greatest publication, and will gladly tell you of this place a few dozen Uppers call “home.” The Phillipian newsroom is not as dismal a place as many believe it to be. There is the occasional dead animal in a corner of the room, and sometimes weeks go by before the Febreeze settles in and wipes away the smell. I have only been given the opportunity to work on the Features Section a few times, but I recall quite clearly the setup of our “humorous” domain. I remember being shoved into a small corner of the room into a rolling chair and being ordered to make things funny. I was so scared I wet my pants. Fortunately, the wetting of pants is considered funny, and I was allowed to stay by a red-faced Jonathan Adler ’08. I got to work right away. The shackles Jonathan made me wear did not help my progress much, but I learned to deal with the situation. That’s what being part of a newspaper is all about – adaptation. That, and developing the ability to work with someone’s old undergarments tied to your head because some editor claims that “if you look funny and you smell funny, you’ll write funny.” I hate my job. If I didn’t have a family to support, I’d be working for Pot Pourri – at least they respect their writers. I’m sorry, this isn’t about me. It’s about you, the naïve and inexperienced reader. You want to know what goes on in the depths of Morse Hall. You want to know what all the fuss is about. Well, I guess I’ll start from the very beginning (which, according to Julie Andrews, is a “very good place to start”). I’ll lay it out for you – a day in the life of The Phillipian. Let’s pick a day. I’ll pick Tuesday night, which is when I think our section is due. In the morning, Thomas Smyth ’08 arrives. He turns a computer on and off for about an hour, watching intently the changing colors of the Mac desktop as he pushes the power button on and off, on and off. Around six, Editor-in-Chief James Sawabini ’08 finds a frail and faint Thomas, and is just in time, bringing with him two gallons of cold coffee. It does the trick. There’s editing on and off through the night, and once in a while a lost freshman will end up locked inside the room with the lights off, screaming for hours on end for someone to let them out. This dull buzz in the newsroom goes on until around eight at night, when the editors and associate-hopefuls arrive at the scene. They take over like flowers in the spring – gracefully, but with a powerful presence. When all is said and done, the big guys wrap things up around three in the morning and go clubbing in Methuen for an hour or so. Then a while later they start it all over again. I hope I’ve kept this description cohesive. I try to keep things together, but at my age, it’s tough to get myself out of bed in the mornings. It’s what this whole “writing” business will do to you. If you have more questions, or you just want to talk, feel free to e-mail or call me. I’m lonely and afraid these days, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep to myself the things they do to me down there when I write something “too dry” or “too naughty.” I dream of the day the Sports section stops hazing me and I can finally fall asleep at night. I’m afraid that dream is a long way away. Well, until that day comes, you stay classy, Phillips Academy.
