Dear The Watch,
The first time I heard your name, you had nothing to show for yourself (save for a glitchy website, a magazine-turned-food box in the NAB and an unoccupied office). When I first laid eyes on what you used to be — before you went online-only in 2020, and were rarely publishing after 2022 — I was not surprised you had practically died out.
The self-proclaimed news-magazine version of The Watch from the late 2010s looks like a corporate catalogue, containing a myriad of neutral-toned spreads, visuals consisting exclusively of photos of King’s campus and straightforward writing. There was no love, no passion.
Which makes sense, considering students working for The Watch have always seen few returns — especially in terms of financial reward. When a bigger cheque, or any cheque, comes calling, you’ve historically struggled. (See “History of The Watch.”)
In order to make you a worthwhile venture, you have to give back in some other way.
Two things worked in your favour, Watch. One, King’s is bursting with colour, personality, and style. Its Haligonian-queer-progressive-pretentious-chic naivete and wonder begs to be captured.
Two, a hero, possessing the power of passion, came to your rescue. Your hiatus-ed form got passed down to my girlfriend, Maria, in 2024. She assembled a team of journalism students, determined to bring you back, better than ever. I was lucky enough to see it first hand. As an arts student, I had no reason to be at the table, but they needed someone to run the Instagram and design the layout. (It was a nepotistic hiring decision, in retrospect.)
While no one really knew what they were doing (and my graphic design skills were subpar at best), the team managed to pull six issues together. Now, with two years of trial and error, countless administrative nightmares and many beers under our belts, I’m of the belief that you, Watch, are looking pretty damn good.
I’m not claiming anything we’ve published is going to win a Pulitzer Prize. But it’s been incredibly rewarding to see people come into The Watch office with ideas inspired by the work they’ve seen in the magazine, the world around them or the community at King’s.
It’s quite vulnerable to assume responsibility, be it as a writer, editor, designer or photographer. It takes courage to go all out, knowing you could make a mistake or create something others may not like. The students who step up embrace this in stride, to my deep admiration.
Yet their hard work is criminally underrecognized by the university’s journalism department. Which is a shame, considering the department’s biggest challenge is their inability to construct a curriculum that keeps students coming back. Quick suggestion, profs: try actually engaging with and supporting student projects.
But while most of the journalism department struggles, student publications on campus like The Watch and The Dalhousie Gazette, create opportunities for students to grow as journalists. Our most recent Watch alums have since worked for The Globe and Mail, CBC Toronto, The Hill Times and elsewhere in the one year since they graduated.
Let me specify — those are paid opportunities, real jobs, not the BJH’s one-month required internships. Employers like their initiative, passion and backbone. All of which The Watch can take some credit for.
But the best part of this all has been seeing strangers tuck the newest issue into their bag for later; watching acquaintances get excited to be featured in our streeters video. Having friends tell me the idea they want to write for us, though we both know they will never actually commit and hearing the outfits in The Look are, more often than not, mid.
Because, Watch, you have given King’s something of its own to engage with. You inspire creativity, spark discussion and stir up discourse. And that, in all sincerity and gaudiness, is absurdly exciting, and genuinely meaningful.
Many people believe journalism is a dying field: consider the recent firings at the Washington Post, the rapid ascent of AI and the worsening threats of news censorship from Canada’s southern neighbour.
But you, Watch, make me believe journalism will triumph as it faces changes. Around me, I see young people who embody curiosity, and tell stories because they see value in them. There’s no brownie points here, and that’s what makes this experience valuable: you are our passion project.
I will miss the late nights spent at Freeman’s with Emma and co., puzzling over the importance of single hyphens and word choices, because, yes, it really does make a difference.
You’re in good hands. Sally, Marlo, Ainslie, Alyssia, Elias, Jacqueline, Qori and Maryn are forces of nature. I can’t wait to see where they take you.
The little things matter. I hope The Watch continues to show that long after I leave.
Love,
Clara Silcoff
Publisher of The Watch, 2025-2026
