Julie Nguyen’s -30-

I actually did not want to be in Newspaper, but my homie, Alyssa Andaverde, insisted I should join because “it’s fun.” Fun, my butt.

I entered Newspaper thinking it was just a class, an elective, a filler for my next story arc. I took journalism freshman year in the fall, a prerequisite for all aspiring publications-what-have-you’s, and freelanced around sophomore year. All my knowledge of journalistic writing and taking godly Anh Lu-worthy photos poofed. I entered newspaper junior year knowing jack squat of what to do and extremely insecure of my ability to produce quality work. But I remembered my personal mission during my naïve years and that was to: express and speak my mind.
With that motto in mind, I charged in there throwing caution to the wind. #YOLO

Days into the class and all my presumptions were proven wrong. Newspaper was not just a class with a teacher, seminars, and PAKS and tests, but with a woman who loves what she’s doing, story meetings, field trips, and a plethora of Adobe products. I learned to love newspaper, my job. I felt like I belonged. I didn’t expect newspaper to be a family – like Cadre Kerr – but it did, and I felt nauseatingly guilty leaving the staff and paper with my unfinished crap. I only had newspaper for one semester in the fall, and I left with so much useless, non-quality baggage.

But let’s be real here. Newspaper is considered a joke in this school since we don’t have “news.” Nobody knows who the staff members are, and they probably think Ms. Negri churn these stories out of her head everyday. I mean, Art uses our old black-and-white newspapers as a covering for their messes for goodness sake. No matter how much we publicize, nobody gives us a chance.

And I was getting discouraged. Like, why am I still going through all this stress and deadlines when no one appreciates it? Or reads it?

Because somewhere in this tiny school, someone cares. These stories and briefs matter. People have to pee and go to the restroom someday or another, so they’ll read my NewsFlush. Someday or another, Houston is going to get a bipolar weather change, so they’ll read our Weather Watches. Someday or another, people won’t even want to read and just want to look at our photo galleries and videos.

So I endured the hectic craziness, drama, and horrible puns that encompass Newspaper because I love The Kerronicle too much to give it up for negligible reasons.
Oh and the food parties are eh.

I leave newspaper and the school with these final words: mischief managed.