I’ve typed and deleted the first sentence of this post about ten times. Why? Because I don’t think there’s a proper way to introduce The Chronicle and everything it’s done for me. I know that that’s cliché, and saying that it’s cliché is cliché, and writer’s hate clichés, but I’m going to break that rule just for a moment. (Warning: this post will most likely be immensely cheesy, but I beg you, bear with me.)
They say high school is a time to discover yourself (again, another cliché, but I think we’ve established that I’m past the point of caring). Monday through Friday, students stumble around the hallways, nervously biting their nails over an upcoming test, gulping down the caffeine necessary to keep their brain from shutting down while their pencils scramble over sheets of unfinished homework. These are all just things to get through the day–things to just get through high school. My freshman year, 1 year B.C. (Before Chronicle, that is), I was that student. I dragged myself out of bed every day just to sit through the same classes in the same desk doing the same monotonous work just to come home, exhausted and worried. I was worried about my future, naturally, as any high school student is. I tried my best in school and was hard-working, but that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. Most older people simply blew me off with a simple, “You don’t need to worry about that now; you’re still so young!”. Those people didn’t understand that I was only two or three years from applying to colleges, soon to be forced out into the world.
I did know one thing and one thing alone: I loved to write. When I saw posters in the hallway cheerily requesting me to apply for the school newpaper, The Chronicle, I became thrilled. A couple months B.C., I eagerly filled out my application and to my elation, got accepted. Sophomore year began and I was sitting in a classroom unlike one I’d ever experienced. I was learning skills in a real-life setting with useful skills. I learned to write, to interview, to tell a story.
My first byline was exhilarating. Nothing excited me more than seeing my name in print above something I was proud of, something the whole student body would see. Words couldn’t describe how I felt in that moment (how many clichés are we up to now?).
The Chronicle, I learned, is much more than writing. I recall spewing out the same words over and over in my interview: “I want to join The Chronicle because I love to write”. I had no idea that it would mean a place to express myself. I had no idea that it would mean I would discover my passion. I had no idea that it would mean I would find a family of quirky people that accept me for who I am.
My experience on The Chronicle staff is one I wouldn’t trade for the world. It’s something that has taught me many valuable skills so much more than writing, such as time management, leadership, and a never-ending curiosity. It has given me something I can be proud of month after month, issue after issue. It has given me a place to be with my very best friends and do what I love.
So please, to whatever freshman, sophomore, or junior reading this, I beg you, even if you have one tiny inkling to join this amazing staff, contact me. You’ve read my cheesy testimony and it’s not too late for you to experience it too. Applications are due tomorrow inC103, so print off the application here and get working!I promise you, you won’t regret it.