Ode to Journalism
Baby Alexa Rios (Jose Rios)
By Alexa Rios, Executive Editor
37,440 minutes. Throughout four years, I was roughly in Journalism for 37,440 minutes. To me, at least, it’s strange to know I spent almost a month straight in my journalism class. The class is special and memorable to me. I grew up there, from a 14-year-old girl trying to understand her place at Maria Carrillo High School to an 18-year-old adult finally fulfilling her dream of being editor in chief. It’s startling to think this is the last article I’ll ever write for the Prensa. So, as a farewell, this is my ode to Journalism.
I never thought I would be a journalist, much less end up at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo as a journalism major. There’s this special book I wrote in second grade, where I detail my future occupation to be…a teacher. Those dreams stuck with me for many years. If an adult or teacher ever asked me what I wanted to be in the future, the answer was clear: a teacher. I knew I liked working with kids, and I enjoyed helping people. In middle school, I switched up my aspirations to become a pediatrician. When I got placed in journalism by accident in my first year, it didn’t immediately dawn on me that it could be my future. I was doubtful of my ability to adapt and change.
Initially, it wasn’t for me, and I seriously tried to get out of the class. I only kept taking that 5th-period class because I couldn’t switch to another elective I liked. So I just stayed, and I learned. I was so nervous to be in the class. Journalism, at least when I was a freshman, was primarily for upperclassmen. Among many seniors and juniors, I was one of only two freshmen in the class. My editors were intimidating, and the atmosphere felt tense for the first month. Just like how everyone’s freshman year goes, I didn’t know what to expect.
I wasn’t a good writer, period. My articles lacked structure, and I couldn’t engage my readers. Even after James Hart, our journalism teacher at the time, taught us the fundamentals of journalistic writing, I still felt lost. However, I persevered. It might have started with me trying to get a better grade in the class, but eventually, it was just to learn. I’m still not a perfect writer; while I wish I were, journalism is all about practice: practice and dedication.
After a while in the class, I found my community and my people. I wasn't afraid to talk to the upperclassmen, even if they were intimidating. I still talk to some of the past seniors who have long gone off to college, and they still remember how much of a baby I was compared to them. I persisted through trials and tribulations, grew confident, and proved myself wrong.
By the end of my first year, I had decided to become the chief editor, the highest position possible. I made sure to circle Journalism 2 when choosing my classes. By then, I was still caught up in the idea of being a pediatrician, a teacher, or even a marine biologist. Journalism had always been in the back of my mind, but I was scared knowing that the pay was rough, and I didn’t want to struggle financially in the future.
I often look back on that time, now fulfilling my dream and being the leader of my class, and I express gratitude to myself for continuing the class even when things were rough. By the end of the sophomore year, I again considered dropping the class as I felt disappointed. Again, by junior year, I feared my love for the class was slowly fading. I was worried within myself that I would not be able to continue.
If I had to do it all over again, I would not change much. My time in this class has been wonderful, and as biased as this sounds, I recommend the class to anyone. It’s an inviting environment that has truly changed my life.