Was it worth it?
A time where a part of me thought of quitting campus-journalism was the better approach.
“What could journalism do to me? It is a waste of my time… it is not worthy of sacrifice,” as I said to myself. Full of doubt in the other version of me with a tinted heart and a tinted pen still looking below the crumpled paper of rejection.
Many competitions, many press conferences, many seminars and yet little recognition from the school administration.
Newspapers that are unpublished, left to rot, voices that are silenced with no way out to the world. Papers that are piling up in the Chief’s desk and that the only certainty is it will not last for long. Many resigned and many left disappointed, the loss of the spark at the prime of the publication is now the last voyage.
Walking across the campus and there we saw the athletes, the stars and pride of the school, where they are practicing for months in preparation for upcoming sports meets.
“Why do student-athletes have the funds for training and we, the writers, are still in the sinkhole?” with a heart full of jealousy toward the players. A sinkhole that we cannot climb out of and yet they got what I always wanted – time, equipment, materials, and the schools’ helping hand.
A weighing scale that got us a fraction of the price from the sports sector but there is nothing that I could do.
I could only walk outside and try not to look at the painful difference the school prioritizes. The sharp pole piercing through my heart aching to the silenced shouts of my body, the painful faculty requests all rejected— ghosted, dropped, and silenced.
Are we all on our own here? Is there anyone who can lend us a helping hand? Just give me a ladder and I will climb out myself, give me a push so that I can move forward with my team. Give us something that can help us in any way — maybe a ladder could just help…
Is it really called campus-journalism? Without the help of the campus administration… Are we left here all alone? It could just be called “journalism” as it fits best.
Words stuck in my head as I sent a SOS signal throughout the campus.
All this time, no ladder came and no hand reached out from the surface of the pits. The time that felt success all goes into the hole that the school dug, can anyone hear me now? The pit is now sinking deeper than ever.
Written by Strenuous Scribbler
Strenuous Scribbler is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
