In the back of the class, a boy sits. He is quiet, and often content. He does not get involved in the class conversations, and he only ever walks from the door to his seat, then from his seat to the door.

Being a quiet kid makes people assume things. They assume you are either incompetent or rude. Quietness, to me, is a sign of politeness. It is the act of retaining all information with no immediate objections. With quietness, you need a filter. My filter, since I realized it was possible to do, has been writing. Drawing, writing, and creating. It became not only my greatest passion, but a source of any unfiltered feelings.

Journalism has been a perfect mix of these passions. I never expected, up to my sophomore year, that I would ever participate in something like Journalism. If you told me how much this class would mean to me five years ago, I guarantee I would object. Much like how people make assumptions about quiet people, assumptions are made about many things. I strayed from things considered “preppy” or “school spirited”. Working for the school newspaper? Being the odd one out? It seemed like a high school movie to me when I had gotten into Journalism II for junior year.

As I write this, fourteen days before the end of my senior year, I think about how much this class has meant to me. Journalism was my first experience working with others to convey an artistic vision. It began a great spiral into what I want to do with my artwork; what I could do with my skills and talents. Although I still am not sociable, I enjoyed the company of many I have met through Journalism.

I am pursuing a degree in Illustration after I graduate. I know what I want to do, and I know surely that there are people in class C-202 to thank for who I am and who I will become. Always.