I started my journalistic career by writing for a pilot program for the kids section of The Denver Post in the third grade. Mostly, I wrote pieces that lacked much substance and attention to grammar rules that would become (unbeknownst to me) edited by strangers until unrecognizable. They sent me products to review, usually niche things that seemed irrelevant to my nine-year-old self: a biography on Jane Addams, a video game about dinosaurs, and a toy kit called the “Explorer Ops Trek Pak” (all of these review articles still exist on the Internet, unfortunately). I worked my way up into more prevalent stories, ones that would be published in the paper, most notably of which was a review of Horton Hears a Who. I was ten years old and was able to attend its press release. My colleagues in the theater, predominantly middle-aged men, toted leather satchels, jotting reports every so often on Moleskines. I, however, hugged a bucket of popcorn against my chest—it was the size of my entire chest—and I reveled in the fact that I got to be a journalist.
At fourteen, I walked up to the Log booth at the activities fair on my Loomis revisit day and reveled at the students’ ability to constructively criticize their institution, at the fact that the publication was almost entirely student run, and at the professionalism of the Log’s crisp, cleanly designed pages. Once I got to the Island, I became a contributor, then a staff writer, then a columnist, then a graphics editor. Being on the Log means that I’ve taken liberties with making deadlines (apologies to all my editors!!!), cried at computers crashing, and questioned the importance of student journalism altogether. But my column in junior year allowed me to refine my skills designing infographics, which helped me build my portfolio that ultimately landed me an internship in the summer of 2015 working on public service announcements for a national non-profit organization. This year, I served as the Log’s Director of Design, and the 20+ hours I worked each layout weekend honed my InDesign abilities, tested my patience, and established friendships with Loomis students I wouldn’t have otherwise had the chance to meet. Now I take notes rather than cling to popcorn buckets while reporting, but the Log staff has that same unfettered enthusiasm that I had in my third grade reporter days.
This is my last issue for the Log, and though saddened, I’m excited. I hope to return and to see a paper more digitally present, less restrained by censorship, and more boundary-pushing and thought-provoking. I hope the Log exceeds all we’ve done for it. To future Log staff, I look forward to seeing what you do with our temporarily adopted baby, and to future readers, I’m sure you’re in for a treat.