This actually isn’t my first time preparing to leave Northwestern.
Three Junes ago, I was so ready to transfer that I’d booked a U-Haul east, firmly convinced this school was not the place for me. Somehow, I decided at the last minute that I wasn’t quite done here.
Now, it’s hard to believe I ever wanted to leave so badly. These days, I keep noticing new doors on my well-worn trails around Evanston — jewel-toned and weathered, tucked behind chipped steps and iron gates. In my time here, I’ve passed some of them hundreds of times, often with friends, but more often than not, alone with my thoughts.
I arrived on campus with one foot out of the door already, stubborn enough to avoid many of the things that would have made me want to stay. Among the questionable choices I made that year was telling my friend Scott I would never join The Daily Northwestern.
Like so many students, I signed up for the mailing list freshman fall, but I didn’t graduate from the training process until sophomore spring. In the fall, I ended up as the web developer, mostly by accident, and I kept that job for four quarters, writing very little until last year.
I didn’t join The Daily to find a community, though that somehow happened along the way. I joined because I wanted to work more directly with people and their stories, and I couldn’t seem to find that elsewhere.
This year, I found myself spending all my free time reporting. I told everyone that The Daily was a side quest, so it sounded non-committal and fun. Certainly, the term did some heavy lifting when my friends checked my location and found me sitting on a lacrosse field in Ann Arbor five days before my thesis deadline.
But sometimes questions turn on you. As I spent hours asking other people what drew them to their work, the same uncertainty needled me. For every question I asked in an interview, The Daily seemed to be asking one back.
By labeling my Daily career as a side quest, I was avoiding the fact that I didn’t feel confident enough in my reporting to admit I wanted to be there. But looking back, I can confess this was never just that.
It’s forced me to grapple with the ever-looming question: what do I want to do after graduation?
I still don’t know the answer. But I know my experience at The Daily has brought me closer to it.
While I was job-hunting in the fall, I ended up also applying to journalism school. And although I won’t be going yet, even applying felt like a significant step in being more honest with myself.
I’ve loved every day, although maybe not every minute, of being here, even when my hands went numb photographing a snowy protest or when editors put their foot down about my triple-asterisk section headers.
My degree won’t say Medill, but I’ve received a journalism education here nonetheless — largely by asking Daily staffers, past and present, dumb questions. They’ve taught me to notice the little details about Evanston and beaten the Oxford comma out of the English major. I’m thankful for the friends I’ve found at The Daily, and my deepest gratitude goes to the people who have trusted me with their time and stories.
Over the last four years, I’ve learned that you may have to try a lot of doors before you find the right one. You might watch your friends walk through first and come back out. You might refuse to touch the handle for years.
Knock anyway, even if you think you’re late. Especially if you think you’re late.
As I prepare to leave NU — for real this time — I think about all the doors I’ve passed. I think about the one I finally opened, and all the people, stories and strange little rooms it’s led me to.
Email: [email protected]
Related Stories:
— Angiolillo: On the power of showing up
