The process behind the product

Tonight, just as I have for 125 nights prior, I will make a newspaper that I love. And when the clock strikes midnight and we release our product to the printers, I will have let this paper which has defined me for the past 12 months go.

To nearly everyone that reads The Daily Princetonian, whether at their breakfast table or on their iPhone, the ‘Prince’ is just a product — a physical fixture like their cup of orange juice or computer. It is a thing that can be read and disregarded, praised and ridiculed — often simultaneously — and a thing people expect to appear every Monday through Friday.

But the ‘Prince’ isn’t just a product. It’s also a process that shapes and teaches its makers, an endeavor which tests, punishes and invests in the 28 editors and many more staffers who invest back in it.

When I was chosen to serve as News Editor of the 136th Managing Board, I never envisioned how the ‘Prince’ would form me. I was told that I’d be leading a staff that would publish five articles every day, and that I’d be responsible for both producing content and managing people. I was told that the job was a five days-a-week commitment from 4:45 p.m. to 9 p.m. and that off-time was seriously off-time. Boy was I a sucker.

What I wasn’t told was how much this leadership position would teach me. Every night, and often every hour, something would go wrong at 48 University Place, and it was up to the Managing Board to pour our hearts into solving it on a deadline. This nightly stress, which alternated between exhilarating on the best days and ulcer-inducing on the worst, became the pace of my life, inseparable from the hours when I attended class. I can say without doubt that I have never been so challenged as I have been over the past year at the ‘Prince.’

These challenges taught me how to fail. For all that I consider my personal successes as an editor — trading lecture coverage for in-depth stories, treating staffers and their time with respect and learning how to conquer a never-ending inbox — I am nagged by where I didn’t succeed. I set out in January to flip the organization’s group culture and turn the News section into a community akin to a capella groups or dance troupes. I dedicated my remaining few hours to scheduling check-ins with writers, to piloting mentorship programs and to pleading with staffers poisoned by the culture not to quit, but I ultimately did not succeed.

So while I’ve succeeded in the realm that our readers care about — the product — I haven’t in the realm I care about — the process. Changing group culture, by definition, is hard, and I’ve been comforted by conversations I’ve had with other student leaders who have waged similar battles and also lost.

This type of failure is common to so many leaders at Princeton, but too few are willing to own it. Admitting when we’ve failed isn’t a signal of weakness. It’s okay, really.

I ran for editor-in-chief of the paper as a sophomore and got trounced. The election stung for months, but the campaign taught me about journalism, elections and taking risks.

I made mistakes in the hiring and firing of staffers. Though there are decisions I’d like to take back, serving as an editor taught me how to make the call.

I missed countless meals with friends when I chose the paper over them. I chose chasing stories over attending lectures — and emailed from the ‘Prince’ account during the ones that I did. I was forced by circumstance into some bad choices and unnecessarily forced myself into others.

But I only knew these failures because I reached for them. I could have sat in my room for the past 12 months, safely reading and poking fun at stories in the ‘Prince’ while focusing on my schoolwork. I probably would fail at that less than I currently do. But that didn’t seem worthy of my Princeton dollars.

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When I chose to try to do something ambitious, I signed up to fail. This failure has been uncomfortable, sure. But so is stagnation, and if I hadn’t chosen the former, I would be arrogant, scared and stunted. I can’t imagine myself as a person without the ‘Prince,’ and I suspect that for many other student leaders, their failure has defined them as well. No matter the product, it’s difficult to achieve anything without the process leaving at least a little bit of an indent.

The past year at The Daily Princetonian has been a huge trade-off, with huge rewards and huge sacrifices. But it’s been hugely worth it.

Teddy Schleifer is a politics major from Camden, Del. and the News Editor of the Daily Princetonian. He can be reached at tschleif@princeton.edu.