Reporting just one way to make UCLA better

When writers ask for time off to focus on school work, I usually
oblige and sometimes assure them, “You filled out an
application to UCLA, not the Daily Bruin.”

That’s coming from someone who used his UC personal
statement to explain how he wanted to work at The Bruin.

I often think about what I’d have without The Bruin, and I
come up with one answer ““ a lot of free time. If I focused
solely on class, it would never be enough. And it shouldn’t
be. If college was just about taking classes and reading books,
then UCLA would only need to consist of a few lecture halls and a
library.

For four years, I believed this mind-set and my experiences were
unique among the student body. Since starting as a reporter,
I’ve written hundreds of stories and seen their effects on
the community.

I held back tears while talking to relatives of alumni killed
because they were in a hijacked airplane that crashed into the
Pentagon.

I helped to alienate much of the country when I reported on
students protesting Laura Bush’s invitation to speak at
commencement, prompting hundreds of letters and e-mails, causing
some parents to vow never to send their children to UCLA, eliciting
an invitation to appear on the “O’Reilly Factor,”
and costing the university a few million dollars in donations.

There have been breaking stories, from campus protests and
shootings to wildfires and the abuse of donated cadavers. There
have been four years worth of student government meetings and
elections. I’ve told stories of the highest-profile people at
UCLA and never shied from telling stories of those who are
generally overlooked.

So while these particular experiences are unique, the concept of
what I’ve done is not: I simply found my niche.

It is something thousands of Bruins seek while attending a large
public university. Partly to avoid getting lost, I joined The
Bruin. Other students have committed themselves to community
service, student government, volunteer work, student groups and
various other pursuits. These efforts are just as commendable as
what I’ve done, if not more. I just happened to join the
newspaper.

For two years, I got a byline in the paper two to three times a
week. Later, my name was relegated to the staff box somewhere
inside the The Bruin. Even in this form, I received more
recognition than many of the students engulfed in the same goal as
me ““ to do my part to make this university a better place
when I leave than when I arrived.

I am astonished by students who mentor high schoolers from
low-income communities, even when the university cannot provide
these college students with adequate funds. I feel for students who
spend a year preparing for a grand-scale show only to have it
rained on, as Spring Singers experienced in 2003.

My own service to the university was hard at times. I’ve
lost friends, lost girlfriends, lost sleep, lost weekends and
holidays, lowered my GPA, failed a class, had to cram 10 weeks into
three days, and had days when stories I produced drew the wrath of
the community. Sometimes I slept in the office and showered in the
Wooden Center. And there were days when I couldn’t take it
anymore.

But as those outreach counselors and Spring Singers would
probably say, I would never take it back. I’ve made new
friends. I’ve learned to deal with sleep deprivation and lack
of exposure to the outdoors. I’ve found a way to see my
apartment once in a while. I now have a girlfriend who understands
why I spend all waking hours in a windowless office trying to put
out an elite college newspaper ““ because someone has to do
it, should want to do it, and should treat the news as if no one
else is going to report it. And that someone should also believe he
can do it better than anyone else.

But I’m getting specific. As I reflect on the experiences
I had as a college journalist, I recognize that I’m also just
another student, among scores of others who found that staying
inside a classroom just wasn’t enough.

Salonga was the 2003-2004 news editor. He graduates in four
years despite changing majors three times; he barely met the
minimum unit requirement.