If you want to understand Lizzie, start in the theater. More specifically, the Liu Cheung Theater sound corner. Tucked behind the seats and wires, it’s where she feels she spent most of her Webb career — cuing mics, balancing frequencies, and sipping on coke. From the outside, it looks like technical work. From the inside, it’s where Lizzie builds worlds. Her attention to detail is obsessive in the best way — every actor’s entrance and every line of dialogue has to feel right, and if it doesn’t, she’ll fix it. But what’s most striking isn’t how good she is at it, it’s how much she cares. Lizzie’s commitment comes from wanting everyone involved in the show to shine. That same care defines how she shows up for her friends: consistently, unwaveringly, and without hesitation. She’s the type to drop what she’s doing to listen, offer a perfectly timed joke, or walk with you when you need a moment to breathe. Her creativity extends far beyond the soundboard. Her digital art is thoughtful and layered, full of emotion and a distinctive visual voice. Music is her constant companion, whether she’s queuing The Lumineers or Taylor Swift after a long tech rehearsal. As she heads to Sarah Lawrence College to study theater production, she leaves behind a campus that will miss her at every dance show, concert, and musical — the moments she helped make possible, and the voices she helped carry.