I joined Newspaper my junior year, kind of on a whim. When I first walked in, I didn’t think of it as something deep. I thought we’d write some random stories, mess around designing and then hit that print button; however, the reality was really different — in the best way.
I will be honest — there were definitely chaotic days. Days where I was desperately attempting to extract a semblance of a story from any poor student walking past me. Days where deadlines weren’t even creeping up on me, but were long gone in the weeks behind. Days where my masterful design skills would fall through, and I was desperately attempting to put something — anything — onto the page that resembled a finished product Huss wouldn’t point and laugh at.
But between that anxiety, there were calm moments. Pulling someone aside to ask about an issue that felt too important to ignore. Interviewing staff and students about candid everyday experiences we could all find joy in or relate to. Listening to what people had to say, and realizing everything that goes unnoticed when we are not paying attention.
Newspaper taught me a lot about what it means to actively listen and participate in your community — not just passively exist in it. I wasn’t here to just get a quote and leave, but to listen to the unique and real stories of the students I have been in school with for years. Writing for the paper taught me how to push beyond what was happening in my small circle of life and really think about what was going on around me.
People love to say “Nothing ever happens at BV.” But honestly? That is simply and utterly not true.
To me, it seems like there’s too much going on. The issue I have noticed is we have just gotten used to ignoring it. But if you start looking — like really looking — you’ll see something’s always happening.
The student who has a business cutting half the school’s hair. The club that noticed a gap in access to menstrual products for students and stepped up to solve it. The kid who is training to be a licensed pilot (and hopefully won’t crash).
There’s always a story. The question to me seems to be whether or not we care to even find it within each other.
And, in my opinion, that is the kind of newspaper we tried to create. One that was solely about being a Tiger. One that paid attention to every corner of the school and said “This matters.”
We live in a time where I truly believe ignorance can’t and shouldn’t ever be tolerated, especially when the world and our stories are so interconnected. These two years taught me that being quiet is never an option. Whether it is highlighting a voice that has previously been pushed down or writing a cheesy fluff piece, every story matters.
And sometimes it’s those stories that “lack substance” — the silly, sweet, or small things — that show the most truth. They show friendship, accomplishment, humor and identity. Real human connection. And at the expense of sounding like a Hallmark movie, isn’t that what we are all looking for?
Well, I am very glad I did. I am thankful for every late-night writing session, every InDesign YouTube tutorial, and every story that turned out to mean more than I thought it would. This class — our little world of journalism in Room 518 — taught me to care more, listen better and tell stories that deserve to be told.
Even the small ones.
Especially the small ones.
