This semester was not easy. Many times, it was not fun. I cried over school more now than I ever had before, excluding my awful final internship. I’ve never been so stressed out in my life. I was stretched beyond belief. I had to step outside my comfort zone more times than ever. I dealt with exhaustion. I began this semester with stars in my eyes. And I ended this semester with stars in my eyes.
I succeeded in ways I never imagined. I did things I never thought I could do. I stepped out of my comfort zone and found a new Stephany. One who is confident in her abilities. One who is creative. One who has a critical eye to design and editing. One who can take a blank page and make it into a piece of art. One who is perky and bright. One who takes on unfamiliar projects and succeeds. One who forgets all the limits she has placed on herself. One who is proud of herself and isn’t afraid to say so.
I put more hours this semester into homework and studying for tests than I ever have before. I spent entire weekends, working on assignment after assignment. In past semesters, I could put in a few hours on Saturday and be good for the week. I have never worked so hard in my life.
I had meltdowns over this semester. I wondered how I was going to manage to do it all. I knew I was stretching myself thin, between working 25 hours at my job, 10 hours at my internship, and my 3 classes. These classes involved more work and more dedication than I have ever taken. By the end of January, I began to hate my life and question whether I could do this.
But I did it. I succeeded. I put my heart and soul into my magazine project. I studied my brains out for my law exams. And I learned more about the editing process that just made me love writing all the more.
With those successes, come failures. I found myself confused more often than not. I wrote some very crappy stories that I’m a little embarrassed to tie my name to. I wrote a term report on a subject I knew nothing about, yet did nothing to familiarize myself with the topic. I rushed through some assignments. I didn’t do my best work. I didn’t try hard enough. This will be my worst semester since I started in the journalism program, grades-wise.
Still, I can’t be upset with myself. Even if this won’t be a straight-A semester like I’ve had previously in the journalism program, it will be a semester where I worked my hardest. And if I make a B in a class where I did my very best work? A B in a class I thought I would fail? I’m fine with that. After all, a B is nothing to be ashamed of.