Being totally blunt and honest, I took Journalism class because I didn’t want to take accounting. My counselor wasn’t responding and two days before classes started the principal gave me three elective options, once of which being Journalism. But, I could’ve chosen the other three, and I didn’t, I chose this. Here’s why.
Gifted child burnout is something that a lot of us know, and it sucks, really bad. Being told that you simply gave up, or that you aren’t reaching your full potential or you’re ruining your chances. In actuality we’re just average students with struggles like everybody else, not to mention being so gifted and advanced so young set us up so we have no idea how to ask for help with learning. But, I digress, you get the point. My best subject was always English. I could read at an 11th grade level by the time I was in third grade, without any special help or classes, I just could. All my life I was told that my writing would change the world, that I had unlimited potential. Then I got older. Before I was the loved (and loving) genius child that read the Harry Potter series at eight years old (even picked up some Dickens once) . To the moody, disliked 12 year old who was failing almost all of her classes. Nobody asked why, but even if they did ask I don’t think I would’ve had an answer for them. From then on I was told that I was going to be a high-school dropout, and that I wouldn’t get anywhere in life. When you tell a child that they’re stupid, the child is eventually going to believe it, I certainly did.
For years I didn’t write a thing. I wouldn’t even give my opinion on other people’s writing. I, and everyone else thought that I grew out of writing, that I wasn’t good anymore, that I lost it. But in reality I lost my will to try, I lost my confidence that anything that I said, or thought mattered. Taking it back to August 2020, I was just finding my way back to who I am now, and I was brought a choice. My three electives, on a whim I chose Journalism because I remembered being good at writing, and that it would be an easy class, but it turned into so much more than that. Here I found a space where I was able to write about what I was interested in, where I was encouraged to break the norms of writing and be myself. I was finally in a space where I could fail, and admit my struggles and challenges, a place where it was okay to miss one of your deadlines and where the people around you were always open to helping you. Not only that, but a place where people were proud of you, and thought that your writing was great, and worthy of the world to see. And, for the first time at 15 I became a published author, after years of refusing to write.
One of my first pieces got some attention online, which I was so happy about. I checked the views per page and the likes, I texted my grandma about it. Three other websites followed me, and liked what I had to say. I felt so validated, and worthy and like I was succeeding for the first time in so long. I had my Eureka moment; My words have power. That in itself pushed me to continue writing, and to not breeze through the class. And here I am today, it wasn’t that this class was the easier thing I’ve ever done, sometimes I stressed out about deadlines (missed a few too), or had total writers block and put out something I wasn’t totally proud of. But we’re human, and I’m not mad at myself for it. Just like how I shouldn’t have been so mad at myself all of those years.
So, there you go. That’s why I chose Journalism, besides not wanting to take accounting. And, if I were you, I would do the same.
P.S. I am totally not liable in any way if you mess with your school credits for choosing to take Journalism instead of accounting.