After four years of journalism school, I have no words.
I think it’s pretty ironic that after spending my entire undergraduate experience honing the ability to tell stories in succinct, informative, understandable ways, I find myself completely unable to do so when the story is my own.
They taught me to start at the beginning, to hit you with a strong lede that introduces the key facts while grabbing your attention. Do I go so far back as to mention my “why Medill” application essay, which extolled the virtues of former What Not to Wear host and Medill MSJ graduate Clinton Kelly?
Maybe I should fast forward you right to April 2010, the height of college decision season, when I was sifting through emails daily with that oh-so-intoxicating mix of dread, excitement and terror. Then, I could try: “I was borderline sobbing when I got my acceptance email to Northwestern.” I’d hook you with that tiniest bit of mystery – was it from happiness or sadness? – in hopes that you read on.
Or, I could bring us right into the action, to the first moments of my college experience, when I was sitting on Deering Meadow watching skits with the rest of P-Wild’s class of 2010. The emotional element isn’t as strong, but the anecdotes are probably more compelling: “On my first day at Northwestern, I saw a penis, a fake marriage proposal and way too many pairs of cargo shorts.”
And once I finally do choose the right lede, I’ll have to put together a “nut graf,” the less glamorous but nonetheless crucial explanation of where exactly this story is going. I’d have to strip my college experience down to the basics for you, and use specifics too: When? How many? Where? With whom? Why?
The FiveThirtyEight story would break it down to cold, hard stats: I graduated in 11 quarters with 56 credits after 38 classes; I had five internships and spent three months abroad; I had eight roommates across four buildings; it cost me this many dollars and I had that GPA. And it would mention the numbers that are relevant, but that I unfortunately cannot be sure of: how many all-nighters I pulled, Chrome tabs I opened, stress-fueled breakdowns I had, Andy’s concretes I ate.
The Slate version would tell you all the times I went against what popular opinion might have expected: when I lived on North Campus as a freshman, next to the fraternities and the engineers and far from the safety of my humanities comfort zone; when I joined a sorority, fell in love with it and spent two years on its executive board; when I chose the sports section of North by Northwestern as my first path despite being a female journalist with a rudimentary-at-best understanding of football (but expertise in basketball, at least).
The New York Times edition would emphasize all of the official, formal events of my time here: when I was the credentialed on-field and on-court photographer at many a Northwestern sporting event; when I spoke during PHA recruitment at my chapter’s preference night one year and philanthropy day the next; when I was a finalist for the SPJ Region 5 Mark of Excellence Award 2014 for Non-Fiction Magazine Article.
The Atlantic version, assuming it appeared in the Education channel, would be a well-researched report on my academic endeavors: the first interview for the first assignment of the first journalism class; the time a friend slipped hand-sketched blank maps of Brazil under my door as an invitation to study for a geography quiz; the custom iPad app I designed for my own fake magazine; thewebsite I helped code from scratch for class with three partners; the last paper, a 20-page doozy I submitted in the fall.
And of course, the Buzzfeed post would be a series of GIFs of my time here: sledding down the hill outside Norris on contraband dining hall trays during Snowpocalypse, storming the Welsh-Ryan court, ordering mass amounts of Wings Over Evanston to McTrib again and again, arriving in Argentina for my JR, making purple ribbons and handing out balloons, camping on the Lakefill until sunrise, hooking a Nintendo 64 up to a projector for the ultimate Mario Kart tournament.
And once I’d written my nut graf and filled the story with everything I wanted to tell you about my Northwestern experience, with everything I loved and everything I hated, every deliberately curated memory and all my pearls of wisdom, I’d come up with the perfect kicker – that last sentence that gets you in the gut and ties every part of these last four years together in a neat, calm, totally-prepared-and-not-at-all-terrified bow.
But as I said, I have no words.
Kim served as Sports Editor, Assistant Managing Editor, Executive Editor, Print Senior Editor and Print Deputy Editor for North by Northwestern.