Several years ago (the autumn of 2016, to be exact), I was sitting in Communications 2321 or, “Writing for Strat Comm,” bored out of my mind. The class was a requirement to earn a degree in the department of communication: a requirement I found wildly unnecessary and would complain about as often as I could. I consistently turned in my assignments late after forgetting deadlines, and I really struggled to pay attention in class, rolling my eyes at the professor’s intensity as she overexplained AP Style, the ABC’s for media writing.
This wasn’t my usual attitude as a student. Used to being at the top of my class, I typically had no trouble keeping on top of my workload. I was the annoying student who showed up to class genuinely excited to learn.
“It’s not like anyone here is actually trying to go into journalism,” I thought to myself as I continued to scroll though Instagram instead of listening to yet another PowerPoint presentation of information I thought I would never need. “We’re all in this class because we just need a degree and communications is vague and transferrable. Besides, I am going into public relations to work for a nonprofit anyway.”
As I sit here, jotting this down as I take a break from working on a news article I was recently commissioned to write, I cannot help but laugh at myself. I have never been more wrong.
There was no class in the Ohio State communications department that has helped me more than 2321. The information I was taught in this course has not only been a conversation starter in more than one interview, but it has also given me language, direction and confidence to pursue writing as a career — beginning with an impromptu meeting with the professor after class one Tuesday. She pulled me aside to give me feedback and praise over a story I had turned in for class, encouraging me to attempt to get it published.
At the time, I politely thanked her for the support and excused myself from her office, knowing full well that I would ignore her advice. Journalism wasn’t my desired career path. Pitching my work to a local paper didn’t seem to be worth the hassle.
The past several years for me have been riddled with regret. There really isn’t a decision that I wouldn’t change if I could.
This is important to note because, to this day, choosing to disregard my professor’s advice and instead maintain a nonchalant attitude toward the course is one of my greatest regrets. The truth is, I didn’t try very hard in college. I simply did the bare minimum required to get the grade I wanted; in the process, I missed out on so many opportunities.
What held me back from trying to get my article published? Was I really so busy or uninterested that I couldn’t even make a few calls? It suppose it’s possible. I probably felt, in the naiveté of the college bubble, that I had a lot going on at the time. Plus, my gaze was so intensely fixed on a plan for the future that didn’t involve journalism.
Knowing myself, though, I suspect I believed I wasn’t capable or worthy of success, so I didn’t even try.
Reflecting on the past, whether a wrong turn or missed opportunity like this one, I can’t help but get frustrated at myself. I feel the weight of the regret deeply, and I desire to fight the longing to go back in time to change my attitude or my one-track mind. I wish I could have been better at putting myself out there, something I am ashamed to admit is still a struggle. It’s definitely easier to hide in plain sight: support others’ goals and not aim too high with my own.
Still, I don’t want to miss this opportunity: to learn and redirect. From this point forward, I will try to not disqualify myself before I even begin. I will keep my eyes open to opportunities, even if they are ones I didn’t expect. I will allow myself to grow, to dream and to maybe, just maybe, succeed.
Now, excuse me. The AP Stylebook is calling my name.
