To the readers of The Student Voice,
When I joined The Student Voice in 2021, I had no idea what I was doing. I was a freshman and had only taken one journalism class: Principles and Ethics of Journalism. Until then, I had been mostly interested in creative writing; I wanted, and still want to be, a fiction writer someday. But it was at The Student Voice that I found my love for journalism.
Here’s a little about me. My name is Jack, and I have been the editor for The Student Voice for the last three years, and a reporter for the last four. I joined the newspaper in 2021, and the first story I wrote was in October of that year, titled “Local farm plans fall activities,” about the White Pine Berry Farm, nine miles from the UW-River Falls campus. Since then, I’ve written 39 stories. I’ve also written many of The Student Voice’s editorials.
Nineteen days from now, on May 10, I will conclude my time at UW-River Falls, and my time at The Student Voice as well. This is the fortieth and final story that I will write.
I want to say a few things before I go. By a few, I mean a lot; as my professors can attest, I’ve never been much of a concise writer. So I hope you’ll take the time to read a little more of my rambling. Much of what I’m about to say may be most relevant to the Class of 2025, of which I am part. I hope it will be helpful for the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors as well.
Last week, I received the Chancellor’s Award for Students. But the truth is, I didn’t think I deserved to win the award. It feels like all that I did was have a series of anxiety attacks and depressive episodes, and somehow ended up here. I mentioned this to someone near and dear to me, and this is what they told me. “You have accomplished more than you realize.”
There’s a lot of truth in that statement. We have accomplished more than we realize; you have accomplished more than you realize. And I’m not just saying that. I know that, and the reason I know that is because the last four years have been anything but easy. That’s not even including COVID. The seniors and juniors will likely remember how hard the fall of 2023 was.
And despite everything, here we are. We made it, and even if we needed to have a few mental breakdowns to get there, we still made it. If that’s not a victory, I don’t know what is.
That’s what resilience is. It’s not about answering a question on a job interview: “How have you shown resilience?” It’s not about proving yourself to someone else; it’s not external, it’s internal. It’s about understanding what you’ve accomplished and knowing that, because you have been able to make it this far, you can keep going. It’s about believing in yourself, because if you believe in yourself, does anyone else’s opinion matter?
Most of what I have learned about journalism, I learned in the Voice, or I learned it in the Voice before I learned about it in my classes. I have Andris Straumanis, the faculty advisor for the Voice, Isabella Forliti, the editor, Brooke Shepherd, the assistant editor, and the other members of the newspaper to thank for that. In 2021, I covered the White Berry Pine farm story, as I mentioned, and also stories on a UWRF Study Abroad Fair, a River Falls food shelf, seasonal depression, and a series of three stories on sustainability.
In May 2022, Isabella and Brooke graduated, which left the Voice without an editor or an assistant editor. The question was: who would take on their roles? I thought about volunteering, but I was nervous; I was still a freshman, and I didn’t feel ready for the responsibility.
One of the other reporters, Lexi Janzer, came to me with a proposition. If I became editor, she would become assistant editor, and both positions would be filled. I decided to say yes. I was still nervous about it, of course. But nervousness, it turns out, is very similar to excitement; so similar that you often can’t tell them apart. That gut-wrenching feeling that you shouldn’t do something is often the biggest indicator that you should. And so, I ended up as editor of the Voice. It would change the course of my next three years at UWRF.
As it turned out, I wasn’t ready to become editor. I still had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know where to find new stories to cover. I didn’t know how to use InDesign or any of the tools to turn a Google Doc filled with story drafts into a finished edition. I didn’t even know what made a story ‘newsworthy.’ I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Lexi.
While her official title was assistant editor, we were more co-editors. We each had our strengths–Lexi was better at leading the meetings and I was better at the editing, for example–but we shared the responsibilities in a very 50-50 way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Andris either. All the while, he was there to instruct us in his solemn yet supportive way.
He showed me how to use InDesign and WordPress. He patiently answered the endless questions Lexi and I had about story ideas or headline choices or AP style. He looked over every draft of the newspaper before we sent it to the printer. When I, for some reason, spelled Chalmer Davee Library as ‘Chandler Davee Library,’ he let me know so I could fix it.
If I had waited until I was ready to become editor, I never would have done it. The ironic thing is that I would never have been ready until after I had already volunteered. We often feel like we need to have everything in life figured out. There are many things in life that you won’t be ready for, and can’t be ready for. After all, how can you be ready for something you’ve never done before?
If I had listened to that gut-wrenching feeling and told Lexi, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be editor. I think I’ll stay a reporter,” I wouldn’t be writing to you now. Or, in September 2021, if I had stood outside the door of North Hall room 304 and never walked into that first Voice meeting. What’s worse, trying something and realizing it was a mistake, or never trying it at all?
I wish I could tell you, seniors and juniors and sophomores and freshmen, that the world is yours for the taking after you graduate. But I can’t. I’m a journalist, so I have to be honest.
I probably won’t be rich. As I mentioned, I’m a journalist. Most of us won’t be rich, however. Most of us won’t have the things that society says define success: the mansions and luxury cars and $30,000 Birkins and $50,000 Rolexes. Does that mean we’re not successful?
Our culture creates a ladder for us. Do well in high school, get into college, do well in college, get a job, do well at your job, get married, get a house, get children, do well at your job some more, maybe get some promotions, and then, finally, retire.
There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s just one path, and there are many paths to choose from in life. And you only have one life to live, so why would you let other people’s paths, other people’s ideas of success, define that life? I have the words memento mori tattooed on my left arm, which means ‘Remember that you must die.’ I always have to explain that it isn’t meant to be morbid; it’s meant to be a reminder that we have to use our limited time wisely.
So, achieve greatness, but achieve what you think is great. You could work hard for years in a corporate job, trying to climb that ladder, only to be laid off at no fault of your own. If that job defines your life, that layoff will be devastating. But if you work hard at something you love, something that no one else can take away from you, that work will always be rewarded.
In September 2023, Andris passed away at 66 years old.
Sept. 11 was the first Voice meeting of the semester, and, as faculty advisor, Andris always attended. But not that meeting. He emailed Lexi and me and told us that he was not feeling well and wouldn’t be there. That was the last thing he would ever say to us.
The next morning, Jennifer Willis-Rivera, Chair of the Communications department, called us and told us what had happened. Lexi and I were devastated. Andris was the reason I had joined The Student Voice. He had taught that first journalism class in 2021; he had been the one to tell me about the newspaper and recommend that I give it a try.
“‘Andris was, in many ways, the heart and soul of the Student Voice…. It won’t be the same without him, but we will do our best to honor his memory with the journalism that we do at the Voice. Andris is the reason why I and so many others love journalism.”’
That’s an excerpt from a story that Joshua Brauer, one of our reporters, wrote in memory of Andris. It was titled “Andris Straumanis: The impact of a professor, a mentor, and a friend.” The story concluded with: “He will be missed dearly for years and years to come.”
The Voice took a month off to mourn. Jennifer would take on the role of faculty advisor until Souzeina Mushtaq, our current faculty advisor, could do so. Joshua’s story was published in the October edition of the newspaper. A month later, Andris was honored on the same memorial that honored the three UWRF students who had lost their lives.
That’s why you have to be kind to yourself. The world often won’t be. There are things that might happen: we might lose our job, we might lose our home, we might lose our health. We might even have to start over. But we will lose someone we care about.
The Student Voice almost died with Andris that day. Jennifer will tell you that I’m the reason the Voice is here today, but I would say that it’s because of her. Without her endless support and encouragement, and her tireless efforts to help with details that Andris had taken care of, like printing, Lexi and I wouldn’t have been able to keep the paper alive. Jen was our lifeline. She was one who told me that I have accomplished more than I realize.
But even with her help, it was hard without Andris. The week before an edition of The Student Voice is published, all of the reporters send their stories to me, and I put them all in a Google Doc, edit them, and send them over to InDesign, where I arrange them and add photos, captions, and other elements. If there’s any empty space that needs to be filled, sometimes that means writing a last-minute story with a one-day deadline. We call it layout week.
Andris had always helped with this, but now, it was just Lexi, Josh, and me. All the while, we were still mourning his loss; it was the first time we were doing it without him.
On my own, it could take fifteen hours or more to complete the work in InDesign, and that didn’t include time spent on editing or writing my own stories or editorials. I spent hours in North Hall; I would leave at 2 or 3 in the morning, and I would do that two or three days in a row. One night, I even slept overnight in our office, which was as pleasant as it sounds.
As I’ve said, resilience is a profound and powerful thing, but we can’t be resilient all of the time. And we shouldn’t have to be. We’re not supposed to run ourselves into the ground day after day after day. That’s not what hard work is. If you’ve pulled three all-nighters in a row, do you think you’ll be at your best on day four, even after several cans of Monster? I sincerely doubt that. Resilience is important, but so is balance. I was stubborn. I had to learn balance the hard way.
I was exhausted. The workload was destroying my mental health, and, after November 2023, I knew something had to change. One of those changes was deciding to publish more eight-page editions and fewer twelve-page editions.
For much of my life, I have tended to romanticize working myself to death as an admirable or even heroic thing, and I don’t think I’m alone in that. There would still be many late nights ahead of me, but the changes made all the difference. Balance became a strength, not a weakness, and I realized how wrong I’d been about the meaning of hard work.
When Lexi graduated in May 2024 and Joshua graduated in December 2024, I didn’t think I could continue the newspaper without them. We had been through so much together: so many news stories, and so many late nights in North Hall. We had been through the fall of 2023 together. After they left, The Student Voice didn’t feel the same. I felt like I had lost the two voices that mattered the most. I struggled with that feeling for weeks. I even wanted to quit.
The Student Voice has taught me so many things. It has taught me that I’m resilient. It has taught me to pursue the opportunities in life. It has taught me that I need balance to be my best self. As much as I wanted to quit, I knew I couldn’t. There was still more work to be done.
Many people have tried to explain the value of a liberal arts education. I won’t attempt to do this, because it doesn’t make much sense to me; value is subjective, after all. For me, The Student Voice is the reason my liberal arts education was valuable, and I didn’t earn a cent from any of it. But that’s okay. Something doesn’t have to make money to be worth doing.
Rest is an example of that; you can’t quantify its value with a dollar amount, but every expert and study agrees that it is the best thing you can do for your physical and mental well-being. A lot of things in life are like that, even some of the most painful things. I have grown more in the hard times than I ever have in the easy times. And I have grown at The Student Voice.
In the monotony of daily life, it’s easy to forget that there is so much more to life than the endless routine of school and work, more to life than the ladder you have to climb.
We have to choose to see the beauty in life because life can be scary, and beauty can be hard to find. Most of the time, that beauty isn’t dramatic or life-changing. A lot of the time, it’s small and simple. Sometimes it’s one sunny day. Sometimes it’s one new song on your favorite playlist. Sometimes it’s one Friday night out with your friends. It doesn’t have to be complicated.
A few years ago, I wrote a poem for one of my creative writing classes. The main idea of the poem was that, when you die, what you choose to remember in those last moments is what matters the most. You won’t remember the days in class and in the office. You’ll remember the beautiful days, the time you spent doing what you love, the time you spent with those you love.
Do I believe that? Maybe, maybe not. But I believe that memento mori also means you don’t have to be perfect. After all, no one will remember us a hundred years after we die, so who cares if we made a few mistakes? We’re all living for the first time, after all.
One last thing before I go.
It takes time to find what you want to do with your life. It takes time to find where you belong. It takes time to grow. That’s another beautiful thing about life. It’s a journey, not a destination. We don’t have all the answers, and we never will. And that’s okay.
Life can be overwhelming, I know. But you’re on the right path, and I hope the best things come to you, because you deserve them, you truly do. The world is a better place with you in it. Thank you for reading this, and thank you for reading the news stories I have written or edited for you over the last four years. It has been a pleasure and an honor.
Sincerely,
Jack Schindler Van Hoof