#69- J School

I guess if I'm talking about J-school I should probably start off with a nice, solid lede, one that's punchy, but concise, informative, but engaging, one that's... oh, I guess I already dropped the ball on that one. Oh well.

But seriously, I just finished my undergraduate career eight days ago and J-school is already transforming from the thing I cursed every morning, noon and night while secretly loving it to a word dripping with nostalgia and covered in memories.

As I write this I look around my room at artifacts of my J-school career and it feels like I should be a character in a movie; the old man who wonders into his attic trying to find his cane only to suffer flashbacks of his life when he sees old pictures and such. Heartwarming? Sure. Corny? Definitely.

But I can't help it. I can see the pub crawl shirt in my closet out of the corner of my eye, the very same one that has the names of some of the greatest people I have ever had the honor of calling friends on it (although in barely legible scrawl that can obviously only be attributed to the poor lighting in the pubs).

And there in front of me on my desk is my recorder and microphone, the very same ones that I swore at when they wouldn't work properly and I lost half an interview about the pie industry in Ottawa. But also the same ones that hung by my side during the toughest production days that left me utterly exhausted, but indescribably exhilarated.

And what's that on my desk, an assignment from my political reporting class? Plenty of red ink on it, but a decent mark and, even more importantly, encouraging words from my professor (although even less readable to my eyes than the pub crawl autographs). I can't help but smile and remember the lessons I learned from all my teachers and not just about journalism, but about life too.

Yep, as I look around my room I know two things for sure: I really need to spend a day cleaning it up and I'm really going to miss J-school with all its crazy deadlines, early morning classes, mind numbing post-morts, awesome friends, history-witnessing moments and quiet nights doing what I love most, writing. And I would do it all again, the very same, if I had to.

So I'm grateful for J-school. I'm grateful mostly for the people I have met in it, from my girlfriend, to friends who have shaped my last four years, professors who have molded my brain and sources who have challenged, changed and reaffirmed my perspective on the world. I'm grateful and I'll never forget it, but it's time to move on. Peace out J-school. 

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