I’ve always had a bit of a rebellious streak. Perhaps this is surprising to those who don’t know me. Quiet, yet defiant, I’ve always preferred to do things my way, especially when I’ve been advised otherwise. So, when 8th grade and blissfully unaware me was deciding what my seventh class would be, it probably came as no surprise to my dad when I immediately struck down his suggestion of taking Principles of Engineering. Acting solely out of the purpose of defying my father and not at all out of consideration for whether I would even enjoy such a course, I admit, I made a rash decision. So, with my sights set on becoming a designer, I signed up for Intro to Journalism, a ridiculous choice for someone who detested writing. After getting to try my hand at designing in our first assignment, I realized I was not cut out for that kind of work. My design, if you can call it that, consisted of one full page of writing with a small headshot in the corner. As the year progressed, I realized that, to my dismay, what really inspired me was being able to talk to people — to tell stories that matter.
But while this tale started four short years ago, this is not a story of my freshman year of high school. After that unexpected first dip into the wonders of journalism, I was lucky to be able to spend three more years on staff. And through them all, my passion for storytelling has only burned brighter. And my once burning desire to be a designer burned dimmer and dimmer, faint, but always there. But things really do come full circle… look who designed pages 25-30 of the senior issue!
Next year, I’ll be going on to study engineering, something I guess my dad foresaw long ago. And so it seems I might have made a mistake four years ago, when my one small act of rebellion temporarily altered the course of my life. But I don’t regret that decision one bit. I’ve learned how to have meaningful conversations, how to translate those into meaningful stories and how to help others do the same: things I certainly wouldn’t have learned in Principles of Engineering. In the fall when I become a freshman once more, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be lucky enough to make another rebellious decision that’ll lead to the four years as unexpectedly wonderful as these last four have been.