When I chose to take journalism and media last year, it was (if I’m being totally honest) because I thought it would look good on my college application. Little did I know that it would spark a passion in me I never knew existed. Journalism and media quickly became my favorite class, and it has completely changed the way I see the world. When something new and exciting happens in the community, I don't react with curiosity, but instead with the instinctual thought: this could be a story.

However, earlier this year, I put that very passion in jeopardy. I decided to take a shortcut, to take the easy way out, to make the lazy decision and use AI to help me write two of my stories. When Mr. Sivertsen caught me for using AI, I was devastated and impacted in a way I haven't felt very often in my lifetime. However, I did the only thing that felt right: I told the truth. I owned up to what I did, even if it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

From this mistake, I have learned two very important things. One is that honesty and integrity are two of the most important values in journalism and are the very values upon which journalism was built. The entire purpose of journalism is to tell people the truth, and that commitment to the truth has to show up in every part of the process, from the story you choose to tell to the way you tell it. The second thing I learned was how to own a mistake. Instead of giving up on the class and blaming the teacher and the editors and anyone else that I could, I worked as hard as I could to redeem myself. I have had three stories published in the three weeks since I was told I would be allowed to publish again. I have two more in process, with five published currently and a hope of seven by next week. If anything, hitting that low point made me a better journalist than I would have been without it.

What this experience has reminded me of, more than anything, is how much writing matters to me in the first place. I have been interested in reading and writing since I was three years old. When I was younger, I was much less interested in playing at the playground or with Legos than I was with the stories I could immerse myself into with just the flip of a page. Because of this, in fourth grade, entirely on my own accord, I wrote a book. I spent about a year on it. In total, it was 70 pages long, had a front and back cover, a table of contents, an author bio, and a back blurb. I even commissioned someone to do cover art inspired by the story. I look back and realize I was telling stories before anyone even asked me to, and I plan on telling them for a very long time. That same passion for telling stories is what drove me to apply for the New York Times journalism program, which I will be attending this summer regardless of whether or not I am allowed into the Bark next year.

Journalism took what was already a great passion of mine and gave me a new outlet to express it, one I enjoy more than just about anything else I do creatively or academically. I made a serious mistake this year, and I regret it more than anything. But I did my best to show up after that mistake, and I think that it does not accurately reflect my character or my journalistic abilities. All I ask for is a chance to keep proving that, and I can think of no better opportunity to do that than as a staff member of the Bark.