If you spoke to 17-year-old me about where I wanted to go to college, I would’ve told you, “It doesn’t matter where I go to college. I’ll have the same experience anywhere, just at a different location.” I applied to three schools, and I didn’t think it would matter where I went.
I struggled when I first came to campus. Navigating being away from home, my family and my friends for the first time while having all in-person experiences ripped away from me due to the pandemic made it challenging for me to find a genuine sense of belonging at Marquette.
But I remained persistent in my thinking. I remember lying awake in my Abbottsford dorm room on a restless night wondering how I’d find my people on campus, reminding myself that “no matter where I went to college, I’d be going through the same thing.”
Today, my answer to the question of where 17-year-old me wanted to go to college would be the complete opposite, but I didn’t learn my real answer to that question until my senior year. And my updated response largely has to deal with the time I’ve spent on the second floor of Johnston Hall, or the “newsroom.”
Honestly, Johnston Hall probably should have started to charge me rent or at least contribute towards their utility bill by the time I entered my senior year. I can’t tell you the hours I’ve spent on Monday nights alone as we work to produce a paper, watching the sun set and rise again outside of the windows.
Whether or not you find the number of hours I’ve spent in an academic building to be sad or boring — the moments I spent in the newsroom were pivotal to my success stories and gave me some of my best memories on campus. Although there were moments I dreaded going to the newsroom, like on Mondays when I knew I only had four stories ready to paste for six pages of news, the memories I made in the newsroom made it all worth it.
And that’s mainly because I never knew what I was going to walk into on the second floor. Walking into the newsroom could feature anything from Tim Littau dancing on the tables trying to bring dabbing back and groups of us debriefing our weekend gossip to reporters in full panic as a protest breaks out 20 minutes before Marquette Now goes live and colleagues sitting in the executive office having conversations about the ethics of an upcoming story.
But that’s what makes being a student journalist so exciting and the moments I’m going to miss the absolute most.
Because yes, the Marquette Wire gave me amazing successes like my first published byline, being recognized by various award organizations and being a step stool into being accepted into graduate school – the most important success story I’ve gotten out of the Wire is the people I’ve met.
I remember stepping into the newsroom for one of the first times my sophomore year of college nervous to match names to faces after a year of virtual reporting due to the pandemic my first year. That’s when I met someone who would become one of my closest friends, Megan Woolard, and ever since I’ve spent every Monday night (and oftentimes into early Tuesday mornings) during the academic calendar with her working tirelessly to produce something I hold very close to my heart, the Marquette Tribune.
Megan and I have gone through a lot together, whether that be decoding hours of information discussed during academic senate meetings, dealing with breaking news that always happens to occur on Monday nights or finding last minute events to cover to fill the paper.
It can be difficult balancing being a student journalist, but the people I met along the way made it all worth it. To Megan, Sophia, Tim, Grace, Hope, Patrick, Kristin and Jack — thank you for being people I’m lucky to call forever friends. I genuinely am so appreciative of everyone I’ve worked with on the Wire.
To my parents: Thank you for always supporting me and allowing me to pursue my dreams. I wouldn’t be where I am in life without your support and unconditional love.
I’m so appreciative of the fact I landed at Marquette University. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have come across the friends I hold the closest to my heart.
And now at 21-years-old, I’m being faced with the same question 17-year-old me was, but instead of what college, I’m having to choose between graduate schools. And rather than my original lackadaisical philosophy, the people at the Marquette Wire (in true journalistic fashion) revised it for me. I can now say I’ll be attending Columbia University in the fall, a decision that was easy for me to make due to the inspiration from my friends at Marquette.
And with that, the people I’ve met along the way taught me: “Go somewhere that feels like home.”
This story was written by Julia Abuzzahab. She can be reached at [email protected]
