When signing up for classes in freshman year, I saw a journalism class as an opportunity to go on a New York field trip and learn more about the career I wanted to pursue. Three years later and I did not go on the New York trip nor am I following a career path in journalism, but the J gave me much more than I had originally presumed.
Throughout middle school and high school, I really wanted to be a journalist. I thought I was fairly decent at writing and that by doing so, I could leap into my Rory Gilmore era (pre-Yale). I’m not totally sure when, but I eventually realized that I truly did not enjoy doing writing assignments as they were much more stressful than solving an equation. The class soon became anything but a segway into a career.
I came into my sophomore year of high school post COVID-19 without any recollection of what school was truly like. I honestly felt like I was short a few brain cells from being online and had no preparation for real school. In the first week of journalism, I remember doing a practice writing assignment. I was extremely focused on compiling the best quotes and evidence and was convinced that journalism was going to be a toxic, cutthroat community with people fighting to be covered in the monthly editions… boy was I wrong. That first assignment made me realize that nobody there truly had experience; we were all starting from the same place.
Even though I would rather fall into a black hole than have to repeat J1 and its Radical Write tests, journalism quickly became the most calming time of my day. I slowly began building close relationships with my fellow staff members (throwback to the posted up era). It was a weird shared bond we had, kind of like a trauma bond but not really. And no matter what, not even Ananya’s month-long disappearance, could change that. I am so grateful to have met people I can not only work with, but also laugh with until tears come into my eyes, even if it is about Julia’s grandma falling.
It is hard to express the exact feeling of what it is like talking about all the “lasts” of senior year. I had been looking forward to prom and beach week since I was eleven years old and watched my oldest brother go through his. Last Saturday I had my prom and in three weeks I have beach week. I am not sure how time passed so fast. I went on the Canada trip, I had my last homecoming, the track and soccer senior nights were dedicated to me, I wrote my last article for a monthly edition and I took my last AP test. I don’t really understand how this can truly be my last year living at home with my family and near my childhood friends. And although I know I should be excited about a new beginning, I’ve never been the best at handling change.
As I write this final article at 1:15 a.m. the morning it is due, like every other article I have written for The Observer, I realize that I truly need to start doing my work on time. But this article, unlike the others, was being put off not only because I forgot about it, as I usually do, but because there truly is no way to fully encapsulate what this class and staff have meant to me. Whether it was excitement about college acceptances or a venting session after an unexpected heartbreak, the J has truly seen us at our best and our worst. And all I can say, as one final rebellion to the anti-Oxford comma rule, is thank you to all the younger staff, Ms. Zitnik, and my fellow graduating Observer class for making this community the best it can be and bringing a huge smile to my face every day.
