Two walls of the second-floor classroom at the Collegian are plastered with articles that document events in Penn State's history. I've seen apartments that do the same thing. Orange Bowl coverage wallpapers their bedrooms, Thon articles decorate their fridge.

For the last four years, as a journalist, I've been given the gift of immortalizing people, broadening experiences and commemorating moments. For many Penn State students, the Collegian is a record of their college career where our words and photos document what soon becomes history and memory.

But when I look at those pages, when I see the Collegian displayed across campus and in people's homes, I remember more than just the event. I remember what happened behind the scenes, inside the four walls of the James Building, and the effort it took to bring these moments to the reader. I wonder what I would decorate my own walls with and how I could possibly put my own memories into words.

I can remember exactly how it felt to be on the floor at Thon four years ago as I reported on it for my first time. I still get a chill when I hear, "And we're dancing..." I can still remember the overwhelming noise in the last four hours. I remember coming back to an office, full of people who would work for hours after the dancers sat to compile 48 hours of coverage by the next morning.

I remember the anxiety and stress we felt when we covered the 2004 presidential election. I remember that each of the editors had a different Web site open -- ABC, New York Times, CNN, NBC, FOX -- as we constantly refreshed to stay on top of the results. I remember the reporters, coming back at midnight and writing furiously to localize stories and make deadline. I remember leaving the office at 3 a.m., as I saw Ohio turn red, knowing a final decision wouldn't be made that night.

Beyond the news, beyond the effort it took to capture memories in black and white newsprint, I'd plaster my walls with stories about life as a member of the Collegian.

I'd include stories about the days we spent napping on the pink couch in the sports section. Every day sophomore year, right after deadline, my co-editor and I would curl up and snooze away the stress, knowing that without it, one or both of us would have gone through the roof.

I'd write about the four-year diet of Subway, McLanahan's, Jimmy Johns, Panera and coffee. Somehow I would convey the loss we felt when Wendy's left, the newsroom-wide excitement when Margarita's came into town and the desire by most Collegian employees to inject coffee via IV.

I'd include a photo spread of the 2006 News vs. Sports football game where the ladies tore up the field (trust me, the photos are truly fantastic). As expected, Sports won, but at one point they truly underestimated the strength of the News females.

I'd document the efforts of this year's staff to step into the 21st century, the hours my co-workers put into improving and rebuilding the Web site, the excitement and enthusiasm I have seen toward online journalism and the patience that people awarded to me as I led us into somewhat uncharted territory.

I'd write about the few experiences I had as a "regular" college student: surviving freshman year with the Fourth Floor Holmies, dancing to "Signed, Sealed, Delivered..." by Stevie Wonder with my sophomore-year roommate, learning the art of bed diving and perfecting the art of the starburst on the Singing Lions' No' Mo' Sno' Tour, hanging out with the crew -- a group of friends I met in the most unusual circumstances but could not imagine the last few years without.

And surrounding it all, I'd try to profile every person I've worked with in the last four years. We have laughed, cried, loved and lost together. In them I have seen incredible passion and dedication go into covering each tragedy and triumph. I couldn't be prouder of the people I work with or more honored to be a part of this organization.

However, in reality, these stories were never laid out in Quark, never run through the presses, never printed in black and white.

In a few weeks, when I move into my new apartment, in a new city, I won't have newspaper clippings to remember them by. I'll have blank walls, with the possibility of new memories and new ways to document them.

But the truth of the matter is, photos fade. Newsprint rips. The Internet server breaks. The experiences I've had at Penn State and within the four walls of the Collegian are ingrained in me forever.