“Are you British?”

 

“No, I'm from Missouri.”

 

Because I’d learned to over-enunciate my words, my third-grade teacher asked me this question on three occasions.

 

I was born with apraxia of speech, a disability where my brain and mouth weren’t synced, putting me in the lowest two percent of communication skills among my peers. The only solution was retraining the connection through seven years of speech therapy.

 

While this worked, I went a little overboard with “perfecting” my pronunciation, and I didn’t sound like other Missouri kids. But questions about being British didn’t matter because I could finally communicate and I even found an interest in all things communication related, including journalism.

 

Looking back, apraxia of speech taught me three lessons about communication.

 

1. Body language can tell a story. When I was little, the only way I could communicate was with reactions: puppy dog eyes, jaw drops and the occasional dramatic sigh. From my older sister, I learned that eye rolls never helped a situation. From my dad, I learned a wink could bring a smile to anyone. From my mom, I learned that mirroring others' reactions made me easier to talk to.

 

My skills were tested last summer at The School of the New York Times. I had to interview people in Central Park and chose two women sitting on a bench eating their lunch. The women were from China, studying in German and vacationing in New York. As I asked questions, we kept running into language barriers. Only one of the women could speak English, and she had to translate for us. I noticed that the woman translating would smile more when talking about her friend. So, I responded similarly and focused my questions around her friend. I found out the two women had been a couple since middle school and moved to Germany so they could express their relationship publicly. Matching their body language not only got us through the language issues, it moved our discussion past the superficial story of two friends on vacation.

 

2. Written words need special curating. Telling stories tends to be more thought-out than most forms of communication. My first year on our high school magazine, the team avoided controversial topics or shifted them into tamer versions. An article about why our community lacked diversity ended up being a page of known statistics showing that our community lacked diversity, but not answering the question “why?” A year later, as editor-in-chief, I changed our approach and never discouraged controversy as long as we were adding to the discussion. I took on the lack of diversity story and uncovered that a century of our history had been simplified by local news outlets. They missed facts about changes in power dynamics that still affect our community today. When writing, I know my audience can understand a topic’s complexities. It’s my job to choose the right words to explain issues rather than avoid or simplify them.

 

3. Communication only works when the audience cares. As much as I love talking, sometimes people stop listening. When this happens, my goal is to meet them halfway by focusing on their interests. I learned this technique because I was frequently talked at, not talked to.

 

During my first edition as editor-in-chief, I didn’t know what my audience wanted to see. I decided the best way to figure it out was to focus on them. First, I took that literally, covering tons of influential students that the student body would recognize. Second, I started surveying the student body every quarter to get insights into what topics they cared about. These simple strategies and others let us meet our audience halfway. As a result, the magazine and Nixa Journalism website are more popular than ever before, averaging around 500 views per day, with spikes every month reaching 15,000.

 

Journalism for me is not just about finally being able to communicate, but about allowing me to elevate others’ voices in ways I wish mine had been.

 

Every person has something to add. My job is to listen, curate and piece those voices into stories that matter.

 

Every staff member is trying their best to do good reporting. My job is to provide them direction so they can tell their stories accurately and clearly.

 

Every story and magazine deserves intention. My job is to ensure they’re high quality, compelling and published on time.

 

I don’t chase perfecting my enunciation anymore. Instead, I chase words that work. Asking the right questions and writing an article require focusing on a bigger picture, the people. That’s why I adore journalism. A good journalist understands others well enough to tell their stories honestly. That’s what I strive for everyday with my team, the people I interview and Wingspan.

 

Carrying my love for communications forward, I’ll be attending Medill Northwestern University next year as a journalism student.