Growing up, my mother taught me that we may never know what someone else is going through, so the least we can do is try understanding. Truly, this is a very simple philosophy, but it has guided nearly every aspect of my journalistic experience.

Long before I got entangled with journalism, I got entangled with curiosity. I desperately wanted to know—needed to know, really—how people thought and what experiences shaped them into who they were. I think, maybe, that is why writing felt natural to me when I joined the Bulldog Barker several years ago.

Beneath the loaded deadlines, layout composition and writing frenzy (emphasis on this last point), journalism fundamentally requires the act of understanding. Thoughtful writing demands thoughtful listening, asking the difficult questions and recognizing the need for humanity within every story.

Over the past seven years, that philosophy became the foundation of my work as both a writer and editor. I know now more than ever that people are infinitely more complex than they first appear. This understanding may have changed me as much as journalism did.

It feels strange trying to summarize years of memories and lessons into one final article, because Print Media has never just been a class to me. Room 226 became the first place I learned how to think critically, listen intentionally and write with both purpose and conviction. Most importantly, it became the place where I learned that journalism is about people.

In this class, we often say that the FHS Press serves as the paper record for our district. We document sporting events, student achievements, administrative decisions, school board meetings and small moments that would otherwise dwindle with time. At its best, journalism says: this mattered, these people mattered and their stories deserve to be told. I really do think the staff has done this well, and I hope to see the publication continue thriving for years to come.

Even though I was a journalism student in middle school, the experience was quite different my freshman year. When I joined the class then, I was stepping into a newsroom full of upperclassmen who already seemed remarkably experienced. I was one of the youngest students to take the class, and at the time, I truly thought leadership was built upon technical perfection. I buried myself in writing, editing and paper design, because I believed that if I worked hard enough, it would compensate for my uncertainty. As it turns out, though, newspapers are not built by one person obsessively fixing photo alignment and white space at 1:00 a.m. Newspapers are created by a collaborative effort, fortified through patience and an immeasurable amount of shared passion.

Some of my favorite Print Media memories have very little to do with actual production. They, instead, exist in the unusual culture that is only understood in Room 226—particularly the collective delirium that accompanies every production day. Yet, no matter how derailed things became, there was always a strong sense of unity bound to the chaos. I do not believe there is another environment quite like this one.

To this year’s staff: thank you for making the FHS Press what it is. Watching you all grow as writers, editors and individuals has been one of my greatest privileges. You know now that good journalism only exists with the acceptance of vulnerability. By that I mean the willingness to accept criticism, revise constantly and still care to do it over again the next month. Every single person who stepped foot into Mr. Aaron Fitzpatrick’s (Fitz) room contributed something meaningful to this publication, and I hope you all realize how important that is.

To the underclassmen: keep pursuing those stories that matter. Continue caring about ethics, accuracy, accountability and the heavy responsibility that comes with having a storytelling platform. But just as importantly, please continue to care for one another. The culture of Print Media has always been the program’s greatest strength; once the newspapers are archived, what remains are the relationships you forged here.

Fitz, there are not enough words to articulate what your mentorship has meant to me over the last four years. You made this newsroom a community that has the potential to improve lives. Thank you for believing in me before I even believed in myself, for challenging me when needed (plenty of times, mind you) and for reminding us that journalism should serve something far greater than ourselves and our pride. I would not be the writer, leader, student or person I am now without your guidance.

Finally, thank you. Thank you to the readers of the FHS Press. Student journalism only matters because communities allow it to matter. Thank you for trusting us to document our community with honesty and integrity; your readership gave undeniable meaning to every stressful deadline and hectic submission day.

A few months ago, I read Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” She mentioned this particularly striking statement in chapter 23: “keep on moving to the higher ground.”

Now that graduation is approaching, I find myself thinking again about the higher ground—not as a finish line, but as the next step. In myriad ways, journalism provided me with this higher ground. It gave me perspective, taught me how to listen before speaking and how curiosity can take you far.

Climbing to the next stage in life, I carry these lessons with me. But while I may be leaving Print Media, I know the FHS Press will continue climbing higher, too. There are still stories left untold and young journalists waiting to discover their voices. That, to me, is the most comforting part of all.

To the higher ground, then! And to everyone who helped me reach it: thank you.