Adrien M. Martin - Summer 2005

The road I took to becoming a journalist was indirect. I have always been envious of my peers in the college newsroom at Louisiana State University who seemed like they had been churning out copy since birth. When I would talk to them about journalism and its purpose and practice, I felt I held less of a right – although my convictions seemed just as strong – because I had not spent my college career toiling in the basement of Hodges Hall.

As I left my home in Prairieville, La., to go to college, I thought I wanted to be a doctor, then an entrepreneur and even a chef – none of them filling my curiosity. When I decided to become a journalist, I surrendered to my love of writing and constant learning.

One day, I sat at a crowded table with six Chinese students in their crammed apartment as they recalled the story of their friend, a student in need of a kidney transplant. I clumsily shoveled the most authentic seven-course Chinese food I had ever eaten with chopsticks, too proud to revert to a fork or spoon. I had never felt more comfortable and enthralled in conversation. For another story, I was on the phone with a NASA astronaut in Moscow trying to comprehend the impact of the Hubble Telescope and its future. I interviewed space historians, astronomers, three astronauts and the former head of NASA – now chancellor of my university. I never envisioned my knowledge of space to reach beyond the basic science in the pages of a high school textbook.

I had found a career that satiated my curiosity for new things. A career in which I was constantly learning. So while I may have not been born a journalist, I have never been more pleased to become one.

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