When I first joined The Highlander, I was terrified that I couldn’t offer the best of myself. With
zero experience in journalism, I wore an invisible scarlet letter that was burned into my chest – there was no denying that I had a steep learning curve ahead. I spent my early days trying to prove myself, dissecting every questionable word and parsing the 624-page Associated Press Stylebook like it was the Sunday gospel.
Soon enough, though, my fear of failure dissipated and turned into the most fulfilling experience of my career. In fact, I poured so much of myself into the newspaper that I probably won’t have the same capacity to love another job the same way I did this one. I had the time of my life tearing apart every news article presented to me.
For me, news editing was about making a mess into a masterpiece. There was so much to untangle, from awkward phrasing to media bias to muffled interview recordings. But piecing it all together was worth the hustle. Especially because at the end of each production cycle, we could stand back and appreciate what we had built.
As facetious as it sounds, assembling a dignified newspaper with a team meant the world to me. Even if it meant working 10 hours straight, overdosing on caffeine, cooking rare steaks and fetching overpriced bagels, I was all in. I was willing to compromise my sanity in the walk-in-freezer that we call the office.
The biggest blessing of all was that I was surrounded by the most ambitious people I have ever met. I worked with the most virtuous managers. I learned from the most poetic writers. I was humbled by the most strategic thinkers. And I chuckled away at the funniest comedians. That’s what makes The Highlander so great: each person’s talents come together in unexpected ways.
Another perk was learning about the people around me through their writing voices. I got the movie premiere experience, getting the first look at each writer’s brains before publication. I forced myself to understand the experiences that shaped their worldview. I had no choice but to honor each writer’s work, so it was inevitable that I would learn to accept their truth.
There was no telling where the news would take me. Sometimes I had fun, like when I realized University of California, Riverside (UCR) was subliminally designed to dominate food fights. And when Mata out-typed Sanjana five-to-one because she needed to emphasize a “scene familiar to many.” Other times, I would be shoved right back into reality, like when I relived the downfall of American democracy through a recap of a Marvel series.
Trusting others with your own literary work is also such a vulnerable, but commendable, process. I’m not even sure I have the capacity to do that myself. When you put your opinion out there for judgment, you never know how people will receive it. Being honest about what happens in life is hard. So my role as copy editor was definitely a surreal one. The fact that writers and editors alike gave me the privilege of editing was not something I took lightly.
I’m forever indebted to everyone at The Highlander for trusting my judgment and letting me embrace perfectionism (I am clinically insane about grammar, I know). I have never felt so welcomed into a field that I love so dearly. My obsession with English, which first sprouted at age 11, has only grown stronger with news editing. For that alone, I’m so insanely grateful.
Simply put, there’s no better way to conclude my senior year. The Highlander gave me something that my economics degree alone could not provide: a sense of purpose rooted in storytelling. I hope that news can do that for others, too.
