Even in the fifth grade, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.
My fifth grade class had a monthly newsletter, the Priller Press, and I eagerly took over creating it (and I’m sure my teacher was glad that was one less thing she had to work on). I wrote all the announcements I thought were important for the families to know, “edited” my own work (remember, I was only 11) and designed the layout. Each time, I was excited to keep improving the newsletter and myself. It made me feel important, it made me feel smart. I knew right then that this was for me.
My love for writing only grew from there.
I loved my English classes and spent all four years of high school on our newspaper staff going from staff writer, to sports editor, to editor-in-chief. I interned at my local newspaper my senior year and had my own blog there as well.
I’m now in my junior year of college and my feelings towards journalism, and the communication major in general, haven’t changed a bit. I’ve spent a great amount of my time dedicated to Esch 333, aka The Reflector newsroom, and am currently the editor-in-chief as well. I also love writing articles like this for Odyssey and I’m an on-again, off-again blogger.
It’s something I have loved for years and is something I want to make a career out of. However, this is something that not everyone has approved of.
I’ve had to listen to how I should be a doctor, should run for president and even be a teacher, before I go into journalism.
“Kylee, you’re better than that.”
“But Kylee, you are smarter than that.”
“You could put all your talent into something better than that.”
What I want do is an important part of society.
Recently, I traveled to Austin, Texas for a college media convention and one of our keynote speakers was Anthony Graves.
After six were murdered and burned in a small town, Graves was found guilty with absolutely no evidence or a fair trial for the terrible murders. Graves spent a total of 18 years on death row and in solitary confinement before he was finally released. It was with the help of journalists, like Pam Colloff from Texas Monthly and Pulitzer Prize winner Lisa Falkenberg, that Graves was able to become a free man and be reunited with his family. The journalists were able to dig deep and do some investigating in cases that were controversial and found (in an unbiased way) what was wrong with the case and the Texas legal system in general. Graves stated multiple times that without them he wouldn’t have been standing there speaking to us that day.
Journalism can save lives.
I don’t have to have an operating table to save a life. I don’t have to be a teacher to educate the public. I love knowing that what I can write or what I can say can positively impact the community. I can share and help people better understand what is happening in the world around them. I can uncover truths that might have been hidden. I can help pump-up the fan base of a sports team. I can do all of this with a pen (or a keyboard must likely).
I love what I do and while I am currently still in the navigating process of what I want to do with it when I graduate, I do know that I made the right choice. I know the field I want to go into is a vital part of society; it’s something everyone needs.
When I get frustrated or maybe start thinking that what people have told me is right, I remember the little fifth grader who was so excited to create a newsletter to share with the family of my class and I can’t help but smile.
I have to make my fifth grade self proud.
