Don’t Downplay Your Awesomeness: Balancing Motherhood, Work, and Columbia Journalism School

My best friend gave me some advice recently: she told me not to downplay my awesomeness.

For the last few years as I pursued my masters degree, the truth is, I often downplayed it. I’m not completely sure why. Perhaps it stemmed from also working at the institution where I was enrolled (hello, tuition benefits!). But I applied, got in, and completed all the assignments just like everyone else—on top of working full-time alongside classes and taking a break to welcome a beautiful baby girl.

Graduation is often a reflective time, and in looking back on my journey at the Columbia Journalism School, I learned a lot, yes—but I also came to truly realize that there is no one right way to pursue your education. Just like in running, as I write about frequently, the right path is the one that works best for you.

To get the full awesomeness of this journey, I need to jump back in time a little. 

I remember first looking at the J-School when I was finishing my undergrad at UW-Milwaukee; no idea of what to do next, searching for a back-up plan in case my internship options fell through (lucky for me at the time, they didn’t). The program was a big financial commitment back then, just as it is now—and I thought it would be more advantageous to gain work experience before diving into such a rigorous, costly venture in a city I’d never been to.

Fast-forward a decade later: I completely left my previous field (which started from that first post-college internship) and shifted to higher education communications, which led me to Columbia University. Following two years of employment, when the University’s employee tuition exemption benefit kicked in, I applied and was accepted to the J-School, set to begin classes in the Fall of 2020. 

We all remember how that year shook out.

I deferred my enrollment due to the uncertainties of Covid and started the part-time program in Fall 2021. My classes were almost all in the evenings, so after leaving our New Jersey apartment around 7:30 a.m. and working a full day, I wouldn’t see the groty interior of a single-decker NJ Transit train until at least 9:40 p.m. That is, of course, if my train wasn’t cancelled—a common occurrence as many of us disgruntled commuters can attest.

The grad school grind took me out of my comfort zone (interviewing random strangers, writing on hard deadlines!) and also allowed me to dive into some topics that I had yet to write about (my last day working as Buzz Lightyear, Taylor Swift, Green Bay Packers fandom!). I also got to flex my writing muscles on topics I’m deeply familiar with (scoliosis, running!), but look at them from different, more nuanced angles.

My favorite class was “800 Words,” which revived the art of concise, column-based style journalism. Kevin Coyne, our instructor, inspired creativity thinking and story ideation, taught the power of brevity—something I’m still working on, as you might guess from this post—and instilled in us that there are no boring stories, only boring writers. I wrote some of my favorite stories in this class and was also immediately able to put the things I was learning into practice at my job.

Reporting for and writing my master’s project was a big feat. By far the longest narrative I’d ever written, it’s one of my proudest accomplishments (and naturally deserved its own post: A Master…Almost).

Early in the Spring 2023 semester, my husband and I found out we were expecting a baby. At the time, I had just one class left to complete my degree—Journalism, the Law and Society—which was only offered in the fall and slightly problematic with my November due date. I withdrew for about 17 months, and when Fall 2024 rolled around, I was more than ready to tackle my final course.

There was only one challenge: earlier in the year we moved from New Jersey to Boston. 

For five of the seven weeks the course lasted, I trekked down to New York City via Amtrak, leaving early Wednesday morning and returning Thursday afternoon. As exciting as the first trip was—to head back to the city and also begin the end of my grad school journey—that feeling wore off quickly. Being away from the baby and my husband, plus traveling solo, made sleep hard to come by. I was also still pumping for the little one and schlepped all of my nursing gear down with me. The Columbia Office of Work/Life deserves a special shout out for managing the lactation rooms around campus so seamlessly. I was a frequent visitor on these trips and it was so helpful to have a quiet, private place nearby work and class to pump. It was certainly not the easiest few months of my life, but I’m so grateful for the incredible support I had to help me finish my degree. 

As I close this chapter, I’m reminded of my friend’s words—and will try to embrace my awesomeness more than I downplay it. My journey to (and honestly through) grad school was anything but straightforward (you didn’t think I’d make it through an entire post without at least one scoliosis pun, did you?). But that’s also what makes it so meaningful. The best path is often the one you blaze yourself, even if it takes a little longer, even if it’s not the most conventional route. And take it from the student who was at least ten-plus years older than her classmates: you’re never too old to pursue your education.

Every late-night train ride, every weekend spent glued to my laptop writing, every small victory along the way, led me to discover the power of owning your story and finding joy in the journey. 

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. Posts like this aren’t always my most eloquent or creative (but hey, at least I managed to squeeze in a pun!), but they also don’t have to be. One other piece of advice that I carry with me from my J-School journey, and yes, it’s from my “800 Words” class: Always write as if it matters. Because it does.