In my senior year in high school, I performed a solo at a choir showcase. Singing a solo had required a lot of self-growth, especially when just four years prior, I bombed a performance so hard that I almost gave up singing altogether. My senior year I sang one of my favorite songs in the world, even though I knew it would make my mother cry: “Slipping Through My Fingers” by ABBA. Not to brag, but I nailed it.

It taught me one thing that’s still been difficult to recognize, even in college: You aren’t just “good” or “bad” at something. As a measly 14-year-old, I thought that my awful solo was the actual end of my life, that I’d be remembered by my peers as the girl who couldn’t hit the note. But at 18, I knew I’d earned the right to be on that stage. I knew I could do it, and I did.

When I got to Trinity, I started at the Trinitonian as an intern because I was too scared to just apply. I thought that there was no way I could ever compete with these college kids. But over time, I worked my way up to managing editor. This will be my 67th (haha) byline.

There are going to be a thousand other places my anxiety will get the best of me. And it took me eight years to understand why, but I get it now. I wasn’t born a good writer, editor or singer. I worked for these things, and I earned them. And though I’ll always be anxious that I’m not good enough, I know now what I barely understood then: inexperience isn’t permanent. Being a beginner isn’t forever.

Trinity is an amazing school. Opportunities that could define your entire life appear in your inbox every single day. The political science department forwards me internship listings all the time, the Trinitonian is always hiring and clubs always want officers. But the best thing that Trinity has to offer isn’t opportunities wrapped in a tight little bow — it’s a good, fair chance to earn them.

I’ve yet to meet a professor here who won’t help me if I ask. I can name 10 people off the top of my head who’d be okay if I cried to them when I’m having a bad day. Trinity’s career services would never let me walk into a job interview unprepared, and the omelet guy at Mabee Dining Hall knows my order by heart. Trinity has a support system to help you become the best version of yourself. But it can only do so much.

It’s easy to take a fixture like Trinity for granted while you’re here. It’s easier to hate Trinity for how stressed their academics make you, for decisions the administration has made, for a bug you once found in your food. But I think that frustration comes from misunderstanding what Trinity actually is.

Given the price tag, it makes sense to assume that a Trinity diploma comes with some kind of guarantee. An assurance that wearing those robes and getting that degree means a favorable outcome. But it doesn’t, because that’s not how life works. Trinity doesn’t magically remove your anxiety. It gives you opportunities, and more importantly, it gives you the space you need to earn them. And that’s what makes your time here worth it. Because the most satisfying things in life aren’t handed to you; they’re earned.

So, thank you to Trinity for helping me earn it. Thank you to the meditation garden and its jasmine scent, which calmed me down more times than I can count. To the elevator in Dicke Hall that I once rode up and down with my friends all night just for fun. To Felix the Trinicat for hanging out with me after dark.

Thank you to my friends, the ones who stayed and the ones who didn’t. I learned from both.

And thank you to every source who has ever trusted me with their stories. Thank you to the political science department and every professor who has ever taken a chance on me. Thank you to Career Services, Counseling Services and to my family at the Trinitonian.

I am honored for the chance you gave me to earn my place here. I am proud of what I made of it. And I hope I made you proud too.

-Managing Editor, one last time, Diya