It’s funny how life works out.
Finishing up my freshman year of college, I heard about an opening on the Daily Emerald staff as a columnist. I figured I was a sure shot — I had writing and page-editing experience, a relatively strong portfolio, and had even earned a “Publications Olympics 2009 Best In Category” award for a column I did about an under-appreciated teacher.
As far as I was concerned, I had the job in the bag.
On my high school newspaper, Parkrose’s “The Bronco Blaze,” I was a hotshot — a cocky little bastard who quickly moved his way up to an editor spot after only a term as a columnist. I used to think I was God’s gift to journalism. Soaking up compliments like an egotistical sponge, I was always applauded for my works and never really challenged — until my senior year, when a combination of personal issues and frustrated co-editors (all asking, “Why is Tyree always absent from our 7 a.m. meetings?”), soured my relationship with my high school paper.
One girl especially had it out for me, parading around the class telling everyone that I was doing nothing for the paper, and telling me that I should give my spot on the opinion page to another writer.
I shrugged it off, and it didn’t diminish my love for writing, but it did make me feel as though I couldn’t work with my peers anymore.
I created a distance from my fellow editors — a mistake I always look back on.
Even though there was a lot of tension my senior year, I still ended up finishing the year on a decent note, and I learned a lot about what you have to do as a member of a paper to keep the morale high. Like most of us, I had issues with procrastination, and organization. But I fixed those flaws. Well, almost.
With past lessons fresh in my mind, I figured there was no better time than after my freshman year of college to go for that spot on the Emerald.
But apparently, the opinion editor at the time thought otherwise.
Despite being told by both the managing editor of an interest in an interview with me, months rolled by with no follow-up e-mails. Finally, I e-mailed the opinion editor at the time, but I received nothing in return. Frustrated, I sent another one to him — but still, nothing. I finally sent a message to the editor-in-chief, who told me the spot was already filled.
Denied.
This angered my friends and family. My mom was livid, my high school newspaper teacher wanted to phone her connections with The Oregonian, and my closest circle of friends were belting “F!@# the Daily Emerald!” But I did what I could to keep my cool. I had a feeling that I would get my chance.
I spent that fall term squeaking through classes, thinking of subjects to write about and finding some good people to profile. I found two — a college stripper who takes pride in her job and a father with an amazing story of redemption.
The guns were loaded. I told myself that if I was to ever receive a chance to do an interview, I would be well-prepared; so when winter term rolled around and I finally received a call from the Emerald, there was little I wasn’t ready for.
Because I had the time to reflect and (angrily) find some good leads, I interviewed well enough to be offered a job by the new opinion editor.
In retrospect, although I thought I was ready for the pressures of working on a daily newspaper after my freshman year, I really wasn’t. I still needed to develop as a person, and I needed to make some connections.
I am happy I was blown off, ignored and treated like I wasn’t good enough.
Failure, or denial, is often the key to your next big gain. It’s difficult to think about that as you weep over that failed accounting test, bad interview or lost lover, but overcoming those hardships is what a college education is really all about — acquiring the tools to get you through those moments where everything seems lost.
From being blown off by an opinion editor, to preparing to be one myself — it’s funny how life works out.
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