My name is Quinn Wherley, and I can proudly say I am a journalist. However, I haven’t always been. Long before I truly understood what journalism demanded, I understood what it meant to observe. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a looker, but not quite a watcher, understander, or teacher. Over time, I realized I was never truly content simply watching events unfold from a distance; I wanted a closer look. That desire, to look deeper rather than glance past, shaped the way I engaged with the world well before I ever put my thoughts into writing. 

It was fifth grade when my mere “looking” turned into genuine observation. While all my peers were paired with neurotypical kindergarten students as reading buddies, my buddy, Luna, was both nonverbal and on the autism spectrum. Luna has, and remains to, impact my life. It was working with her when I first became aware of the impact of storytelling and reading on others. Over the course of fifth grade, the more stories we read together, the more attentive Luna became. By the end of the year, she began talking to not only me, but her teacher and peers. Before my own eyes, I witnessed the power of storytelling. Our stories ranged from fiction to nonfiction, mystical to realistic, and Luna loved them all. At the mere age of 10, I began to observe the impacts of media around me and how they could affect others. In this moment, I watched how journalism gave voice to the voiceless. 

Being an “observer” rather than a passive watcher, meant paying attention to details others overlooked. These include the shifts in tone during a conversation, the tension beneath a celebration, or the stories hidden behind routine moments. Journalism in itself did not introduce me to curiosity, but it gave me structure, purpose, and an outlet to take action to my curiosity. With age, I’ve realized many individuals and communities experience challenges that rarely receive attention, not because they lack importance, but becomes they lack a platform. Journalism has the power to correct this imbalance, using stories that can be told with intention rather than distortion. I see journalism as a public service to challenge complacency, elevate understanding, and foster global connection. 

As I’ve progressed with my journalism career, I’ve had the privilege to study under the New York Times, represent the state of Maine in the Al Neuharth Free Spirit Journalism conference, and intern as a student reporter for PBS. Time and time again, I am amazed with the impact of my work on others in my community. Journalism allows me to not only broaden my horizons regarding worldly effects, but broaden those of my peers. It not only shapes how I write or photograph, but how I see the world. It has reinforced the value of paying attention and showing empathy to others. I remain committed to telling stories that reflect the realities of my community and contribute to keep the public engaged. 

Looking at all that I have accomplished, I can proudly say that I am a journalist; Not through all my achievements, accolades, and stories written, but in the ways I share empathy with others. After fifth grade, my family moved states, and I never saw Luna again. I think about her often, and I can only hope that one day, my journalism on inclusivity and diversity will reach her. She is a constant reminder of why I tell stories: to ensure that no voice is overlooked and that every story deserving of attention is given the space to be expressed. 

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**Note for readers: The name of my fifth grade reading buddy has been changed to protect her identity and privacy. Luna is not her real name, but used here for anonymity.

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pdf version here.