“Did you make this?”

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I looked up to see the first issue of our newspaper on the desk across from me. Opened up to our centerspread, which I had designed and written the lead story for, my English partner had a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“Wow.”

 

For my first story as a sophomore on staff for The BluePrint, I wrote an in-depth feature on our school’s Gay-Straight Alliance and their calls for the use of preferred pronouns on campus. At the time, our campus implemented new efforts to help LGBTQ+ students feel more included in the classroom setting, but not all students were seeing results. I was drawn to this topic not only out of curiosity, but out of care. Seeing my transgender friends dead-named by teachers, I wanted to use my passion for writing to share their experiences with our campus. Spending weeks on the story and design for the print issue, I was excited to see my work shared with others—maybe even open some minds.

 

And I did. I had teachers hanging the spread on their whiteboards, my family from California to Pennsylvania sharing the story on social media, and LGBTQ+ classmates sending me kind messages, even if I didn’t know them well.

 

Other students, however, disapproved.

 

I struggled with hearing peers jab my work, making snide remarks such as “leftist” or “woke.” Dealing with negativity was never one of my strengths, and as a student who didn’t attend any of the local middle schools, I felt even more outcast by the strangers around me. 

 

But this experience made me a better journalist and a stronger reporter. I realized the impact storytelling could leave on a community, whether positive or negative. Over my three years on the newspaper staff, I have not strayed away from difficult topics but faced them head-on.

 

For my next feature, I covered the dangers of nicotine on campus. Sharing the stories of students whose vaping devices had been laced or who had been pressured into vaping by peers, I was experiencing my own addiction—journalism.

 

With each year, my love for journalism has grown, not only in writing but in other forms of media, too. Even though our program was established and award-winning before I entered, I knew that we could continue our growth and branch out into new areas. As a sophomore, I was helping other staffers operate cameras and edit videos for our website, despite having no formal editor position. It was outside of our comfort zone, but it made us better.

 

Afternoons spent recording band practices. Nights of leveling sound and adding photos from dress-up days on top of a voice-over. Hours of creating presentations on the basics of videography and b-roll.

 

I loved it.

 

Incorporating videography and multimedia into our staff has bettered our program and content, and I continue to develop our program today as editor-in-chief.

At the root of my love for journalism is a love for people. Reporting on difficult topics, including restrictive legislation, campus diversity, and most recently, the death of a teacher on campus, I have been introduced to new groups of people and learned how to better communicate with those around me. 

 

Journalism has not simply made me the certified grammar police, but a better person.

 

As I leave home for college in the upcoming months, I not only leave my friends, my family, my campus, or even my state, but also my staff. With the advice of my kindergarten teacher, I always try to leave things better than I found them. But in this case, it was the other way around. Journalism has taught me to ask questions. To understand others. To think outside of the box.

 

Next year, I will be attending Barnard College of Columbia University as a Political Science major and English minor. I plan to apply for Columbia’s largest student-led publication, The Columbia Daily Spectator, where I can learn about my new community in New York City. 

 

Just as I did in my sophomore English class, I hope I get to answer a classmate’s question next year, “Did you make this?” with another confident, “Yes, I did.”