Personal Narrative
When I first entered high school, my head was full of ideas for the stories I’d write- stories that people wouldn’t be able to put down, ideas that would make people want to take action. I was a rookie journalist with a lot of excitement, but little experience in the ways of interviewing, picture taking, and AP writing style. But the current ‘Iolani newsroom editors at the time, Alisha and Eve, took me under their wing and showed me everything I needed to know. They were understanding of all of my blunders, from cracking my camera lens to deleting my entire layout the night before it was due. Rather than shout or chastise, they simply asked “What can you do to be better than you were yesterday?” I felt safe around them, and it was their willingness to teach me (a shy, bumbling middle schooler) how to be a journalist that inspired me to keep trying.
My first year as Print Copy Editor was difficult. I didn't understand how I could edit other peoples' pieces while I was still trying to find my place in the newsroom. When I wasn't consulting the AP style guide or providing students with source recommendations, I was out hunting for articles. Because of this, I ended up reporting on a very diverse series of topics, including vegetarian options on campus, questionable TikTok trends, and deceased Supreme Court judges. I went behind the scenes to interview cast members for play reviews, scrounged about in the dirt to get coverage of baseball practices, and tried my hand at podcasting. I loved all of it, but nothing I wrote felt like my passion... something that would make interviewing and research as exciting as it was during my first year in Imua.
That changed when I read a NY Times article on Florida’s Don’t Say Gay act. I felt my throat tighten and my hands began to shake in anger. I’ve been part of the LGBTQIA+ community since 7th grade, and a part of the GSA club since 10th grade. To hear the misinformed, hateful information that was circulating around a community I loved made me want to write. Although my school had previously limited the amount of coverage it gave LGBTQIA+ issues, I was determined to have my story be shared. I spent hours wading through dense legal jargon, I interviewed GSA club members, and I petitioned the administration to let my story be told. In this piece I found my journalistic passion, and I’ve continued to write stories dedicated to facilitating social change.
When I became Print Editor-in-Chief, I saw my role within the newsroom change. I was no longer a rookie journalist, nor was I a first-time editor, content to sit in the back marking articles. Now, new staff members looked to me as a leader… the first person they’d think to ask when they had questions about sources, journalistic standards, or layout choices. It was shocking at first, but I’ve done my best to grow into this role by learning to listen to my fellow staff members and allowing them to make their own journalistic choices. I don’t think I’ll ever be a traditional leader. There’s too much of that excited-but-anxious first-year journalist inside of me. But I have grown accustomed to being the last person in the newsroom, talking to my advisor about layout or editing a staff member’s page. I can be my staff members’ go-to when it comes to inDesign tips or Otter AI advice. And when we get complaints from administration or teachers over a controversial story, I always stand up for my staff members. If I believe a story is passionately written and meant to be shared, I will take the time to facilitate a discussion with the concerned teacher/administrator.
While standing up for an article is hard, cutting an article is always harder. It pains me to reject ideas for print, even for the sake of the issue, because every cut means a journalist won’t have the chance to share their story. I always remember how disappointed I was when my first print story (a truly terrible piece on the merits of gingerbread houses) was rejected. Because of this, I do everything I can to take the sting out of these dreaded rejection… No matter how busy I am, revising the accepted pieces and editing outlines, I always take the time to tell the student in person. I provide a reason for the rejection, a supportive comment, and the opportunity to move their story online, keeping them motivated and excited to write. With my staff, I try to form a personal connection and be the type of editor that inspires their staff to keep writing. To keep dreaming.
My first year as Print Copy Editor was difficult. I didn't understand how I could edit other peoples' pieces while I was still trying to find my place in the newsroom. When I wasn't consulting the AP style guide or providing students with source recommendations, I was out hunting for articles. Because of this, I ended up reporting on a very diverse series of topics, including vegetarian options on campus, questionable TikTok trends, and deceased Supreme Court judges. I went behind the scenes to interview cast members for play reviews, scrounged about in the dirt to get coverage of baseball practices, and tried my hand at podcasting. I loved all of it, but nothing I wrote felt like my passion... something that would make interviewing and research as exciting as it was during my first year in Imua.
That changed when I read a NY Times article on Florida’s Don’t Say Gay act. I felt my throat tighten and my hands began to shake in anger. I’ve been part of the LGBTQIA+ community since 7th grade, and a part of the GSA club since 10th grade. To hear the misinformed, hateful information that was circulating around a community I loved made me want to write. Although my school had previously limited the amount of coverage it gave LGBTQIA+ issues, I was determined to have my story be shared. I spent hours wading through dense legal jargon, I interviewed GSA club members, and I petitioned the administration to let my story be told. In this piece I found my journalistic passion, and I’ve continued to write stories dedicated to facilitating social change.
When I became Print Editor-in-Chief, I saw my role within the newsroom change. I was no longer a rookie journalist, nor was I a first-time editor, content to sit in the back marking articles. Now, new staff members looked to me as a leader… the first person they’d think to ask when they had questions about sources, journalistic standards, or layout choices. It was shocking at first, but I’ve done my best to grow into this role by learning to listen to my fellow staff members and allowing them to make their own journalistic choices. I don’t think I’ll ever be a traditional leader. There’s too much of that excited-but-anxious first-year journalist inside of me. But I have grown accustomed to being the last person in the newsroom, talking to my advisor about layout or editing a staff member’s page. I can be my staff members’ go-to when it comes to inDesign tips or Otter AI advice. And when we get complaints from administration or teachers over a controversial story, I always stand up for my staff members. If I believe a story is passionately written and meant to be shared, I will take the time to facilitate a discussion with the concerned teacher/administrator.
While standing up for an article is hard, cutting an article is always harder. It pains me to reject ideas for print, even for the sake of the issue, because every cut means a journalist won’t have the chance to share their story. I always remember how disappointed I was when my first print story (a truly terrible piece on the merits of gingerbread houses) was rejected. Because of this, I do everything I can to take the sting out of these dreaded rejection… No matter how busy I am, revising the accepted pieces and editing outlines, I always take the time to tell the student in person. I provide a reason for the rejection, a supportive comment, and the opportunity to move their story online, keeping them motivated and excited to write. With my staff, I try to form a personal connection and be the type of editor that inspires their staff to keep writing. To keep dreaming.