SAVING ROOM 1125

As my sister finished her sophomore year, she beamed with excitement as she found out she would be returning to school as the new yearbook editor. At the time, I was just finishing seventh grade and didn’t fully understand why she was so excited or what her role was. I had signed up for an entry-level journalism class for my eighth-grade year. I started that class with no expectations, but when we got assigned our first interview, I was excited and motivated to work. I did not see it as an “assignment” or a “chore” but more of an opportunity. Most kids in my class interviewed a friend or family member, but I had no interest in taking the easy way out. That first interview, I reached out to someone I had followed on social media. She had thousands of followers, but wasn’t anyone too big. I contacted her and explained that I was doing a project for my eighth grade journalism class, and for some reason she agreed to let me interview her. 

Shortly after this assignment, parent teacher conferences were held. My teacher shared with my parents that I was really passionate in my writing, especially for being such a quiet kid in class. I continued to love writing and knew I wanted to join yearbook in high school. Walking into room 1125 for the first time is a memory I will never forget. That class was full of laughter, determination, and grit. Almost the entire staff was made up of seniors, but they welcomed me into the class, and I quickly learned everything about the yearbook production. When I found out I would be the next editor, after the current adviser retired and all the seniors graduated, I felt the same excitement my sister once did. Sure, I had concerns about my lack of experience and the fact that the teacher and staff would be completely new, but my excitement overcame those fears.

When my term as editor officially began, I realized how challenging the role would be. Students struggled to complete their assignments in a timely manner, and the new teacher was still trying to learn the position and yearbook responsibilities. Looking back, I didn’t have the courage to stand up for myself and gain support. I felt like I had failed as a leader. It wasn’t easy, but somehow I managed to produce my first yearbook. Still, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to continue as editor with so many challenges. I had questioned whether I should stay in the class up until we attended the Arkansas Scholastic Press Association (ASPA) conference in April. That's when I was awarded “Yearbook Designer of the Year.” Right when they called out my name, I knew I had to stay as editor. 

So, I began my second year. The small staff we had the previous year had dropped out of the class, and once again, I was left with a new team. I was more comfortable with my role and so was my adviser. However, my adviser left for maternity leave, and the classroom was filled with a sense of absence. The laughter and determination I had felt when I first walked into that room was entirely gone. When I was a freshman I couldn’t wait to go to fourth period. Any chance I got, I was in room 1125. But as a junior, I dreaded room 1125. It was filled with stress and anxiety. I feared this would be my final year as editor because I mentally could not handle the stress of the book. While several students in the class got away with playing on their phones, sleeping, or using the period as a study hall, I was tucked away at my computer and didn’t look up until the bell rang. I had given up on my efforts to motivate the class, as I was just trying to motivate myself to finish the book. Once again I felt discouraged and wondered how such a beautiful program could be falling apart. I had tried to teach the staff for two years, but there was only so much I could do. 

When our long-term substitute finally arrived, she noticed the hopelessness I was feeling. One day she came up to me and asked why nobody was helping. I explained to her that they had never been taught how to use our program, despite all my efforts. There were only so many ways I could motivate these staff members. However, our long-term substitute teacher wanted a change in room 1125. She wasn’t going to tolerate the slackers and made them get to work. As I attended the ASPA conference again, I was awarded “Business Manager of the Year”- a role I never expected to take on, but with such minimal assistance, I added on that title. While it felt good to win that award, I was still certain I wanted to enjoy my senior year without the title of editor. However, as we left the conference, one of the directors of the association came up to me. She knew me by name and said she was extremely impressed by all my hard work and that it had not gone unnoticed. That conversation was all it took to keep me in the class. After all, it was only one more year. Returning from the conference, I was motivated to complete the last two months of school and finish my second book. 

Walking into room 1125 on the first day of senior year felt different. The spark was back. The majority of the staff from the previous year had stayed, and sitting at that desk where we previously had three advisers, Mrs. Samantha Lehman now sat. Now, I get to spend most of my days in room 1125. But it is not the decorations or the structure of the room that make it so special; it’s the personalities that fill it. Hearing the staff get excited to work and seeing them accomplish spreads that I did not think they were capable of years prior made me realize that I was not a failure as a leader. Rather, I just lacked the support from those in authority. While I have served in yearbook for a long time, the most rewarding thing, by far, is getting to see my classmates accomplish and learn the skills I have been so lucky to learn. Our program is back on track and will continue to strive even after I walk across the stage at graduation. In room 1125 I have experienced stress, tears, laughter, success, and most importantly growth. My story is a true testimony of determination. Even when it was easiest to give up on the students around me, I kept trying to teach them until eventually they began to learn, which is a greater feeling than any personal success I have ever felt.