Student journalists are among the people who give a school its identity. They are the ones sent beyond the classroom to carry a school name on their backs, to speak in its voice, to write about issues that matter, and to compete against students from other schools who are doing exactly the same thing. They bring home awards, recognition, and pride. Their faces end up on school pages, their names get announced, and their victories become something the entire institution can celebrate. But schools love the glory of student journalism far more than they seem to love the students behind it.

Because before that medal is placed around the student journalist's neck, there is usually a student who has been running on little sleep, attending intensive training instead of sitting in class, rewriting the same piece until they finally receive a good feedback, and trying to memorize facts while knowing there is still an examination waiting for them the next morning. All this struggling just because a student wants to pursue journalism. A field that requires them to prepare for competition, a contest that also wins the school if they do.

As if a deadline moves itself because the reason for missing it was important, campus journalists are expected to represent the school, while we are often left to deal with the consequences of representing it on our own. That is the contradiction that frustrates me the most. Because when a student journalist is selected to compete, we are representatives. We carry the school name. We wear the school’s branding. We are told to do our best, to make the school proud, to bring home a win.

But when training consumes hours that could have been spent studying to keep up with the lessons, to take care of our grades, to reach the honor we've long been aiming for— we are suddenly expected to function like ordinary students.

When requirements pile up because we were away representing the school, we are expected to submit them anyway. There is always an expectation. But, how about the support?

There is a distinct difference in how school institutions differently treat other school representatives. When varsity athletes have competitions, everyone understands that training takes time. Their schedules are adjusted, their practices are taken seriously, their jerseys and equipment are considered part of the program. Their transportation and allowance are often accounted for. Their absence from class is understood as part of representing the school.

But student journalists?

We are expected to write our way through it. No one sees the hours behind the article because writing does not look physically exhausting— especially from someone you expect it to be their forte. There is no acknowledgement showing how many hours a journalist spent preparing. There is no audience watching someone revise an article for the tenth time, nor witness the tiredness visible from someone's face when they are sitting in front of a laptop for hours desperately, trying to produce a piece that can compete and stand out against dozens of other schools.

And perhaps because it is quiet, people assume it is easy. Writing under a time limit while knowing that one wrong fact can ruin your piece. Producing an editorial when you are expected to have a strong argument, evidence, structure, and voice every output. Competing in broadcasting, where you have to think quickly and speak clearly while writing your script all at once. Photojournalism, where a single photograph has to tell a story. Copyreading, headline writing, feature writing, news writing, editorial cartooning, or any other category and tell me afterward that it was simply an extracurricular activity. Because it takes training, and it takes discipline.

And most importantly, it takes a student who is willing to sacrifice that time. The school page does not post about the journalist who stayed late after everyone else went home. It does not post about the student who ate dinner late because training ran overtime. It does not post about the student who was exhausted but still showed up to class the next day.

But let that same student win, and everyone is all over you clapping from a far, public exposure on the page, and suddenly, the whole school is proud of you. But, what about those who didn't win? What do they get in return after trying to work hard and bring home a medal? A glory? Pride?

School institutions should give more importance, support, and consideration to student journalists who prepare themselves for competitions representing not just their surnames, their family, but also the institution itself. It's not their names that will be in the discussion and conversation when the next DSPC, RSPC, or NSPC comes again after all, it's the name of the school that will be labeled competitive and best.

The Frontman