As soon as I walk through the door, I’m greeted by warm smiles and happy hellos.
“Hey Jaisa, how are you?”
Each of us listens to the other’s troubles and latest accomplishments. These are the people I go to when I need help or just a little friendly advice. These are the ones who have seen me through some hard and stressful times. This is my family.
My parents divorced when I was 7, and my whole family fell apart. I moved in with my aunt, which meant being a new student in a big school with no posters on her bedroom wall. It took me a while to finally feel at home again. In tenth grade, I made it onto the school newspaper staff, and it changed everything.
I’ve always loved writing, but I looked at it as more of a hobby instead of a talent or career. Newspaper showed me a world where writing was an extraordinary gift that went hand in hand with another passion of mine, people.
Journalism is about telling a story and writing for the people. Suddenly, I became fascinated with the stories that my peers had been harboring. I felt more comfortable with a reporter’s notebook and recorder in hand than I did at home in my favorite pair of sweatpants.
It wasn’t just my sudden passion for this newfound type of writing that made me love newspaper. It was the busy and bustling J-room, the diverse, yet accepting people I got to work with, the family type relationship that was so quickly formed between everyone on staff. Despite the fact that everyone on staff came from different backgrounds, ethnicities, and home life, we all shared a passion for writing and the need to share stories with the world.
My 12 and final high school year, I sit in front of the massive computer screen that, along with the other three lining the wall, are labeled as editors only. As I work on my latest column, Noah and Jazz drift around the room, making everyone feel important and welcome in the congressional conversation. Carl leans back in his chair and asks how my writing is going and if I would like any help. Victoria asks Michelle another word for successful, and Haven pulls up Thesaurus.com on her computer beside me. We all work together so effortlessly. Out of all my high school experiences, all my friends, this is what I’ll miss the most.
I have achieved all that I’ve worked for on this staff. I am one of the leaders, one of the influential ones. I’ve had the honor of helping to guide this staff to be as great as we possibly could. And now I get to be a part of passing the baton down to some amazing people who, I’m confident, will do a great job leading this staff next year.
It might seem too hectic and deadline week stress might overwhelm some people, but this is when I feel most comfortable. Even though it’s loud, it’s where I feel most at home. Even though it’s a rule, that everyone hates each other on deadline week, that’s when I feel their support for me to fall back on. Even though I feel at home with my aunt now, the newspaper staff will always be a part of my family.
With three days left of my senior year, I’ve gotten use to saying goodbye at least ten times daily, but this is the hardest goodbye. I love this staff to death, and I can promise, when I look back at high school, among all my memories, the ones I made with them will be the ones I will remember most.
