Miranda
Writes
When I was sixteen, I walked into my high school’s newsroom on the first
day of my junior year. It was an elective I’d chosen, but was nervous about, since it was a bit out of my comfort zone as a shy teenager.
I’d wanted to be a journalist since I was a kid. I’d read the local newspaper — mostly for the funny pages — but I became enamored with the photography, the headlines, the black and whi…