When I first applied to The Scarlet & Black, I didn’t get hired right away. Rightfully so, honestly. I had zero journalistic experience, and I’m also pretty sure I used an exclamation point in my mock lede. You probably shouldn’t do that.
Anyways, maybe a week later, some poor soul had decided they didn’t actually want to work for the paper and a spot opened up. I took that spot.
For my entire first year at the paper, I felt like I had cheated my way onto it. It wasn’t until I covered what I considered my first “big” story that I started to feel like journalism was something I could and actually wanted to do.
It was a story about a book ban at Grinnell Newburg-High School. A parent had filed a complaint over “The Glass Castle” being taught at the ninth-grade level. Ultimately, the book stayed in the curriculum with a few changes. That story didn’t exist in a vacuum. Shortly after that complaint, Governor Kim Reynolds signed Senate File 496 into law, a sweeping education bill limiting what K-12 schools can teach. Three years later, that law is still being contested in Iowa.
I remember a comment that a high schooler had left on one of The S&B’s social media posts about that article — “Thank you for including my speech and amplifying my voice.” Despite how cheesy it sounds, that comment sums up the reason why I do journalism. To tell stories that would otherwise go unheard. To hold power accountable, whether at a small or large level. To inform the public of what they need to know, whether they want to know it or not.
Since that story, I’ve written about a student death, an assault on campus and a counter-protest. I’ve traveled back to campus early during a winter storm to cover the 2024 Iowa caucuses. I’ve worked in three different editor positions, moving from the community section, to news and finally to editor in chief.
I’ve had stories that, frankly, I haven’t wanted to write. Not because they weren’t interesting or because I didn’t like them, but because they were difficult to do as a person. Stories can take a toll on you.
But those stories have all turned out to be the most important ones I’ve covered. They didn’t just need to be told. They demanded it.
In the same way that my first notable story didn’t exist in a vacuum, neither has my work at The S&B. I would not be the journalist I am today without Nadia Langley `23 and Allison Moore `24 first seeing something in me. Thank you, Nadia, for encouraging me to apply for community editor. Thank you, Allison, for always reminding me that not all journalists are opportunistic and sensational. There are a lot, like yourself, who approach their jobs with empathy first.
Thank you to Mo Igbaria `24, who taught me everything I know about Adobe InDesign.
Thank you to Cadence Chen `26, my newspaper buddy turned roommate turned co-cat owner, for always being a person I could lean on when I felt too over my head. And a big thank you to Sarah Evans `26, who was more than just a coworker or friend this year, but a confidante.
I’m excited to see where next year’s co-editors, Zoe Zappas `27 and Natalie Ng `27, take the paper. I know we’re putting The S&B in good hands.
And for anyone out there who maybe thinks they won’t get hired at The S&B — or maybe you’ve already been rejected — apply and apply again. You somehow might end up becoming the editor in chief.
