"News is the first rough draft of history."

The Voice of the College at Florham

"News is the first rough draft of history." - The Voice of the College at Florham

Personal Essay: On writing


Figuring out what I wanted to do in my life wasn’t easy (and the journey to figure it out still isn’t really over). It all started in my small town’s local library where I happened to volunteer. The Writing Club that the volunteer group ran scheduled an “author” to give a presentation one afternoon the summer before I started eighth grade. The author was a suburban New Jersey mom who just happened to get her book published, but to us eighth-graders it was a huge deal to meet her and see someone who had gotten her work out there for the world to read. Continue reading

Practicality: A Play


Setting: A train station early in the morning. There is a bench center stage but other props for characters will include a briefcase for ERIC and a backpack, an iPod and earphones for MILLIE. There will also be a need for a train horn sound effect.

Lights go up. ERIC is sitting on the stage left side of the bench, legs crossed and covered in business attire. His briefcase is sitting upright on the ground next to him.
ENTER MILLIE, with her earphones in and a spring in her step.
Continue reading

Opinion: The NFL commissioner gives inconsistent punishment

Student Voice Editor

The sexiest court case this summer wasn’t SCOTUS lifting the ban on gay marriage or upholding the Affordable Care Act, oh no. The sexiest case of the summer involved one Tom Brady, quarterback of the New England Patriots.

I imagine he walked his godlike body into the courtroom, his loving wife and supermodel Gisele Bundchen steadfast by his side. He appeared cool and confident, but totally respectful to the judge. His suit like his throwing motion, perfectly tailored, classic, just the model of fashionable yet not too flashy. Continue reading

Personal essay: On violence

Student Voice Editor

September, 1997. Home Away From Home Academy. Matawan, New Jersey. Pre-K. I am 4. I am also in the 25th percentile for height and weight due to a coffee habit. I am a target. Four year olds are savages. I am stubborn.

The playground has dark brown mulch, with giant chunks of wood, the malicious kind that waits to give children splinters. The paint on the structures that once looked like a pride parade now looks sun bleached and faded. The kids do not notice. The sky is the blue of late summer, and gushes possibility. The air is not yet cold enough for jackets. This is my favorite time of year. Continue reading