Personal Essay: Finding Direction
When I first walked into my Intro. to Journalism class as a ninth grader, the best word to describe me was aimless. I’d just spent a year at home doing online, asynchronous classes, with not even Zoom breakout rooms to provide a sense of community.
Though I was a good student, on-time with assignments and apt at most tasks, I had no academic passions. I’d only entered the journalism class on a whim – a three-minute conversation with my mother and a 15-minute application interview I nearly forgot about was all it took. Without knowing a single thing about journalism, the publication, or the adviser, I was in.
I’m forever grateful for my decision. The ODYSSEY, Clarke Central High School’s student media group, gave me the purpose I’d been craving.
In the three-and-a-half years since I walked into my first journalism class, I’ve written more than 100 stories, edited more than 500 stories, photographed more than 50 events, posted more than 300 times on Instagram, and designed more than 40 spreads, all culminating in several dozen personal and staff accolades. Those numbers represent the totality of work, but each is personally meaningful.
For the first 14 years of my life, my beef with academics was that the work I produced never went anywhere, and never made a difference. In journalism, I’ve found an outlet that drives me as relentlessly as any academic class while also allowing me to make a tangible impact on my community.
That sense of purpose has spurred me to report on the most important topics in my community. After a deadly shooting at nearby Apalachee High School made national headlines, I vowed to report on the local impact of the issue.
Initially, I wrote multiple news briefs combating misinformation on school safety at my high school, published an editorial calling for legislative action to prevent future tragedies, and covered Apalachee’s emotional first football game back after their beloved defensive coordinator died in the shooting. After months-long reporting and more than 35 total interviews, I eventually published an investigative story about the mental health response at both Clarke Central and Apalachee, shedding light on the impact of the shooting itself and the broader phenomenon of a young generation’s mental health struggles.
Reporting on that story pushed me harder than any other. I immersed myself in a moment in time, one of acute pain, to communicate the significance of my community’s struggle. Interviews weren’t just interviews – they were a window into the story. For my very first one, I remember driving a half-hour down I-29 after school to talk to an Apalachee student. Under the shadow of the American flag flown high over his school, my interviewee’s resilient demeanor and brave answers were belied only by his fingernails digging into his arm and his legs ceaselessly bouncing beneath the courtyard table. That one symbolic, beautifully tragic moment, was the story, one I only could’ve found by being there to witness it.
This is just one anecdote – no amount of words can communicate how working on the ODYSSEY has impacted me. Everything from the staff culture to the stories themselves has shaped my work ethic and high standards. Everybody from Mr. David Ragsdale, the staff adviser, to 2021-2022 Editor-in-Chief Audrey Enghauser, who assigned me my first story, has built me into the journalist, and person, I am.
Ultimately, that development is what ODYSSEY is about for me. For all the stories I’ve written – from Apalachee to the equitability of gifted education, for all the photos I’ve taken – from Senator Joni Ernst to the American Civil Liberties Union bus tour, for all the people I’ve met – from Governor Brian Kemp to Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, I return to ODYSSEY, and journalism, not in remembrance of those experiences but in anticipation of more.
Sometimes, when I’m of idle mind, I reflect on the moments when I signed up for the journalism class. I could have easily clicked another button on my laptop and never engaged with journalism at all. In that life, I don’t see my aimlessness changing. I see a student without direction, personally and academically. But, now, nearing the end of a four-year odyssey at the ODYSSEY, I’m proud to say that somewhere amongst the stories, photographs, and designs, I found a direction where I can make a difference.
