Smack dab in the middle of my journalism advisor’s classroom lies the site of some of my most valuable memories as a student journalist. There sits a singular table consisting of two desks with plastic school chairs on both sides. During my freshman, sophomore, and senior years, I spent lunchtimes hurrying into the classroom and rushing to the table. Across from me sat my interviewee—perhaps a star soccer player, a research scientist, or maybe a financial investor. I greeted them, requested permission to record, and then, magic. 

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Within that one small space spilled out fascinating stories. The trials and tribulations of two student-athletes to get back on the field after suffering serious injuries. A wrestler’s path to domination at the district and state level. The pain that members of the varsity lacrosse team felt after falling just short of a championship. 

 

Through it all, I found myself engrossed. Never once worrying about the lunch that I forgot to eat or the amount of work it would take to transcribe the interview, I hung onto every word that came from the other side of the desk. I asked question after question, following up every time something piqued my interest. And when I finally hit “end recording,” I let out a sigh of satisfaction. With each interview, I found my love for exploring the most interesting stories in my community expanding. From the dozens of detailed conversations over countless hours grew such an insuppressible passion that I was certain there was nothing else I wanted to spend time doing. 

 

Over the years, passion has transformed into purpose as I’ve realized the impact that my storytelling can have. The excitement and chatter that each print issue sparks among students thrills me. Going forward, I plan to continue to inspire conversation and change with my work. 

It’s why I’ve gravitated to covering not only interesting local figures but monumental stories relevant to the community. Three years ago, prompted by a string of complaints about people with learning conditions receiving extra accommodations at my school, I chose to feature students who dealt with such conditions. Additionally, I delved into the process of obtaining extra accommodations. 

 

More recently, when my school became the center of controversy for its lack of underserved minorities, I dove into the matter. I interviewed advocates for and against change, and began an extensive look at my institution’s efforts to improve its racial diversity. Though the pandemic kept me from that classroom table, the same joy remained in all my interviews. Even in an online environment, I was immediately captivated by my conversations with policymakers, alumni, standardized test tutors, and more.

 

My proudest moment as a journalist would come in July of 2021 when I published multiple articles on infighting within my school’s Parent Teacher Student Association. I spent countless hours interviewing subjects and analyzing documents in order to accurately report on the conflict. In my effort to inform my local community, I hurdled over mistrust and misinformation. Because I was a high school student, many of my interviewees demanded to review and edit my articles before I published them. They didn’t have faith in me to protect their words, or rather, they sought to weave their own narratives. I was unwilling to break a cardinal rule of journalism, so I stood my ground and refused. In the end, my determination was rewarded. The article brought calm and clarity to the Jefferson community and was praised by parents and students alike for the thorough research and reporting involved. 

 

Outside of Jefferson, I’ve worked to place a spotlight on the stories lurking within my hometown. Starting in March of 2021, with the help of the Arlington Historical Society, I uncovered the stories of Arlington’s people and places and wrote about their origins. I brought to light the history of long-gone restaurants in Little Saigon and of an overlooked enclave of Mongolian immigrants. Later, darting from shops like El Latino Africano Market to restaurants to coconut water stalls along Columbia Pike, I put faces on one of the most diverse zip code areas in the world. Though I struggled to overcome language barriers, I managed to absorb tales of families left behind and tales of better opportunities. Until then, I had seen Columbia Pike as just another street, unaware of the vibrant stories of people and establishments bursting alongside it. 

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This summer, I continued my exploration while writing for ARLNow, my county’s local newspaper. From the bustling businesses of Clarendon to the ever-changing greenery of Bluemont, I delved into the narratives that provide the heartbeat of Arlington and its neighborhoods. As I spoke to the people of the county, I gained a better grasp on not just the facts of their stories, but their motivations and emotions. I called local car dealerships to discuss the financial hardship and fear caused by nationwide chip shortages. I interviewed the people behind education budget cuts to discover their reasoning. With each question that I asked and each article I wrote, I began to better understand the stories and issues at the heart of my county.  

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Whether I was dashing through the hallways of Jefferson or roaming the streets of Arlington, my last four years of journalism have cultivated a love for storytelling that will never die down. And now, wherever the next chapters of my life take me — from the next few months to the next several decades — I intend to learn about and tell the stories that surround me.