I’ve been rewriting this editorial since November, trying to come up with the perfect depiction of what a student newspaper editor endures. Yes, I’ve slept in my office. Yes, my GPA is lower than a high school meth head. Yes, my inbox is littered with psychosomatic pleas from enterprising publicists begging The Varsity to review a band named Tequila Mockingbird. But honestly, I can’t complain. I have the greatest job on campus, and it occasionally keeps me in Tankhouse Ale and skinny jeans. I get to edit The Varsity.

Which is why it is so hard to step away from, even for a summer.

Beginning in September, I was riddled with imposter syndrome. Begging anyone with a prior masthead position for advice, they all said the same thing. “You’ll have some crazy people who want the paper to more leftist, or more in tune with conservative concerns… people who want the paper to be more purple, whatever,” said one current Globe columnist. “You can’t please anyone, it’s impossible. Most of the time it’s impossible to even please yourself.”

What I didn’t anticipate were the twiceweekly vampire shifts of 3 p.m. to 3 a.m., nightmares of misplaced photo credits, hordes of student politicians barraging me in Sid Smith about our coverage of the Student Commons referendum when all I wanted was some Dunkaroos. It’s sad to say, but becoming entrenched in campus concerns has actually made me more apathetic. I now understand how complicated the University of Toronto is, that diversity does not always breed idealism, that the administration is happiest with a bastion of disenfranchised commuters. If we don’t make a sound, no one has to listen. If we make light of an organization actually voicing the increasing corporatization and lack of government funding (no matter how ineffective cries of “Shaamme” might be), we align ourselves with the very forces contrary to what a University should endorse.

Varsity alumni Mark Kingwell once asked what purpose the university experience should serve. Is it a socialization agent intended to turn quivering frosh into ready-made adults, approaching the workforce with keg-stands and dorm-room threesomes behind us? Is it an arena for intellectual exploration, that pretentious Art History T.A. aside? Or is it merely a holding arena until we finally get it together? What purpose does the university serve, and why do we endure it? And if it’s not to assure your parents that you are “doing something with your life,” then what are you doing?

What are you doing?

The Varsity masthead is just as scared as you are. Student editors are a strange breed—living on leftover beer and stale cigarettes while munching reimbursed pizza and correcting semi-colons, producing stories the majority of students will either ignore or become incensed by. While most use Varsity‘s as makeshift napkins for their Second Cup latte spills, others write letters complaining of “journalistic bias,” due to a headline drummed up at 3 a.m. It’s strictly a labour of love, and the relationship we have to it is passionate, duplicitous, and definitely unconditional. I feel the same way about my co-workers, who are the most inspiring, intelligent, and hilarious masthead one could dream of. I would especially like to thank Jordan Bimm, who I owe most of my greatest Varsity moments to. Over the years, he has been a mentor, smoking partner, and a close confidant. And after his four years at the paper, we will miss his presence sorely.

The weather’s getting warmer, and all you have left are post-colonialist essays, finding a sublet, and job application forms. To all those soaking Varsity‘s in hazelnut foam right now, I wish you the best of summers, the first of many on your post-university experience.


Sincerely yours,
Chandler Levack
Editor In Chief
The Varsity Newspaper
2007/2008