The room isn’t a special room. Just a few couches, some vending machines and a pool table. The room is bigger than most and the couches have more cushion than the beds. The thing that almost outnumber the working students in the room, are the power outlets. The power outlets that charge our dying phones and laptops as we type away writing scripts, blog posts and transcripts. They support our late night projects and even occasional YouTube break (don’t tell Dave). They give our computers light, and therefore give our brains light.
Adults will tell us that we have become too dependent on the power source, too dependent on being plugged into a social network, with friends or the wall outlet. That our dependency is a crutch, when in reality, this power source has brought us together. Us in this room. We work together (most of the time), looking into the face of a bright screen editing our videos and stories and rewriting (and rewriting and rewriting). We realize how much power and potential the outlets can hold. So us, growing up in the information age, embrace the presence of that bright light in our lives.
The group of students isn’t a special group. Just a few kids, laptops and a passion for journalism. A passion for journalism that has made twelve strangers think nothing of living together and working together. We realize we may never see each other again. We also realize that we may form lasting friendships here. Even if we don’t, we are journalists, and we never let the light of this week fade.