Day 2 WJMC : Into the Deep End

If I had to sum up Day 2 in one phrase, it would be this: jumping in headfirst.

I woke up nervous. Excited, but nervous. Today was supposed to be the busiest day of the whole week—and it was. But I had no idea that it would also be the most transformative one.

We kicked things off with a First Amendment simulation, and to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to hit me the way it did. I knew the First Amendment mattered—I mean, it’s the foundation of journalism, of speaking truth to power, of asking hard questions and refusing to be silenced. But this wasn’t just a textbook definition. This was real. Our scenario placed us in a school in Virginia where student journalists were censored by a principal who shut down their article. It was our job to argue whether or not their First Amendment rights were violated.

My group decided I should be the one to represent our argument in front of the whole room. Me. The girl who’s never done a formal debate in her life. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding. I kept thinking, What if I mess up? What if I forget what to say? But then something shifted. I remembered why I love journalism in the first place—not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. I remembered every story I’ve told, every person who trusted me to speak for them when they couldn’t. And I realized that if I couldn’t speak now—if I let fear win—then what was the point?

So I did it. I stood up and spoke for the students. I argued that censorship in student journalism is a direct violation of our rights. That young voices matter. That truth shouldn’t be silenced just because it’s uncomfortable. And we won the debate.

That feeling—of being heard, of standing up for something bigger than myself—was electric. It made me realize that the most powerful tool I’ll ever have is my voice.

After the simulation, we attended a conference session that dove deep into the evolving landscape of media—especially the rise of AI and how social platforms like YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram are becoming the primary news sources for people my age. It was both fascinating and jarring.

As someone who grew up creating digital content—building a platform from scratch, watching it grow beyond anything I could’ve imagined—this hit home. It reminded me of the power we hold. It’s no longer just legacy media—The New York Times, The Washington Post—deciding what gets published. It’s us. Regular people. Teenagers with cameras. Strangers with stories. Survivors with something to say. And that’s both beautiful and dangerous.

Because yes, it means we finally have the chance to uplift voices that were once ignored. It means a girl in her bedroom with a phone can make just as big of an impact as a journalist in a newsroom. But it also means misinformation spreads faster than ever. That headlines can be crafted for clicks instead of truth. That stories can be manipulated, distorted, or completely made up—and still go viral.

This session was a wake-up call. It reminded me that being a creator comes with responsibility. That passion isn’t enough—it has to be paired with integrity. If I’m going to be someone who shares stories, then I need to make sure those stories are rooted in truth. Not bias. Not popularity. Truth.

And even more than that, it reminded me why I started this journey in the first place. Not for views. Not for attention. But to give people a voice. To use mine to lift others. Because no one’s story should be silenced—not because of money, or power, or politics.

I walked away from Day 2 feeling fuller. Not just with knowledge, but with purpose. I realized that journalism isn’t just a career path for me—it’s a calling. It’s where all the pieces of who I am come together: the listener, the question-asker, the storyteller, the advocate.

And yeah, I was nervous going into today. But I’m learning that growth lives on the other side of fear. That if you want to be someone who makes change, you have to be willing to stand up—especially when your voice is shaking.

Today reminded me that this journey I’m on isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to stretch me. Challenge me. Push me to ask better questions and tell better stories. It taught me that stepping into the unknown—into the deep end—isn’t something to be afraid of. It’s something to embrace.

Because that’s where the real learning begins.

And I never want to stop learning.