(PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The column below is a speech given by the writer to Lock Haven University communications students during the annual Rebecca Gross Awards Day ceremony on May 5 at the Durrwachter Alumni Conference Center. As you’ll read, Sarah is speaking directly to the students, encouraging them to stay loyal to their passions and assuring them that they ARE needed more than ever as journalists today despite so many “challenges, pitfalls and opposition.” It is one of the best and most inspiring speeches we’ve ever had the honor of hearing.)

There are a lot of folks who would look around this room and wonder what all of you could possibly be thinking: Choosing a career in communications and journalism when you have your whole life ahead of you?

Are you nuts?

This a time when the economics of media are in flux. If you’re looking forward to a career in public relations or marketing, you’re staring at a job that now comes with a seemingly endless variety of ways that a poorly thought out tweet or advertisement idea can become viral fodder for weeks. Where the diversity of our nation, your potential customers, creates a minefield of sensitivities that can seem impossible to navigate. If it’s the newsroom you’re pining for, you’re choosing to enter a world of financial uncertainty as newspapers and news stations struggle to find ways for consumers to shell out money for a product they’re used to getting for free.

And all of that was before the current political climate crystallized to the level of vitriol now spewed regularly at the media, not just by a distrusting public, but also by the most powerful leader in our country. Before “fake news” and the debate over whether a fact can be viewed alternatively depending on the beholder.

And these are the career paths you’re pursuing? This is what you want to do, given the choice?

Thank God.

I was where you are once. And I was told very similar things, with a few notable exceptions: the media has never been liked per se, but it certainly wasn’t the “enemy of the people.” And, because of that, it wasn’t quite as vital as it is now.

Lock Haven was where my interest in journalism grew from a pleasure in the written word to a passion that bordered on zealotry. I’m happy to report that nearly 10 (oh my god is it 10?) years later, that passion is still intact.

Granted, I’m not at The New York Times and my investigative pieces pertain to charter school leases rather than political intrigue, but you know what? It’s still the most exciting career I could have hoped for. And every morning, no matter how crummy the day before, I’m still excited and honored to sit down and work in a newsroom.

The Eagle Eye was key to fostering that feeling. It started out with my volunteering, hesitatingly, to write a story for what looked to me like loud, confident news-hounds disguised as college students. I was incredibly nervous. But that first time I saw “Sarah Wojcik” in print? The first time I looked at my own byline?

I was hooked.

And it never, ever gets old.

I moved up the ranks of the paper until I was one of those loud, confident newshounds, convincing other green writers to give this story a shot, give that article a try, step out of the comfort zone, look into something new, something fishy, find that person’s story and tell it. And all the while, I was still writing, because one thing I learned early was that I can’t help myself and I can’t ever give that up.

I tried my hand at Havenscope as well. And though I am no TV personality, to be sure, the experience was wonderful. I really, truly enjoyed learning about a whole new side of news making. And to this day, I have a respect for the unique rigors of my television colleagues.

When we’re all out freezing our butts off at a crime scene, I’m just gathering the facts, the quotes and feeding them to the newsroom in whatever snippets I receive them. I can look as tired and cold and frustrated as I feel. Meanwhile, Melanie has to cull together enough new details to make her stand up in the middle of the morning news segment a worthwhile update to all those watching her. She has to turn it on and turn it around fast and she has to do it live.

No small thing.

But she does also have a heated van with wifi. So, I guess it’s not so bad.

The point is, the Eagle Eye, Havenscope, the radio stations here — everything is an incredible opportunity for you to test your skills, try things new things that scare you, learn about yourself and your potential. There’s no better way to rehearse what you’ll be doing when you graduate.

You’ll just be getting paid slightly more. And the stakes are much, much higher.

I started freelancing for The Express-Times in Easton in 2008 after graduation. The guys who eventually became my editors were alternatively annoyed and impressed with my enthusiastic calls seeking work and ways to pitch in.

Once again, I got to see my name in print, and once again it was intoxicating.

I was working at Target in between freelancing jobs and sending out my resume to anyone within a 55-mile radius. And after a few months, I started to get discouraged. I remember deciding to pursue a higher position at Target in the hopes of getting somewhere financially.

A day or two after making that announcement to my boss, I got a call in the break room. A reporter position opened up and it was mine if I wanted it. To say I was ecstatic is an understatement. I broke it to my boss, that I would have to withdraw my name from the running for the promotion. Also, I was putting in my two-weeks notice.

The night before my first day at The Express-Times was filled with more anticipation than Christmas Eve. I remember laying in bed, repeating to myself “I’m going to be a reporter. I’m going to be a journalist.” I was beyond thrilled.

What followed were seven years of learning about the intimidating, tedious, fascinating, aggravating, hilarious, thrilling and always surprising world of municipal and, eventually, police and courts reporting.

No one prepares you for the confusion of your first school budget or the mind-numbing dullness of a zoning hearing board meeting once the debate goes deep into the merits of the sort of stormwater runoff and detention basins that will be the best fit for the project.

You’ll also not be prepared the first time you meet a celebrity, no matter how minor or C-list they might be. Or when you find yourself completely floored by the resilience of the young person battling an unthinkable illness, a parent who survived the unimaginable loss of a child, or the drug addict who saw several friends die before he found the strength to save his own life and reach sobriety.

Nothing will prepare you for that surge of adrenaline of arriving at the scene of a crime, chatting up eyewitnesses who are just as breathless as you. Or that intoxicating rush when discovering documents that break open wide an investigation you’ve been peeling away at for months at a time.

Nothing can possibly prepare you for that knock on the door of a family that just lost a loved one. The slamming door or nasty insult still stings. But the tear-filled eyes that soften at your sight and tender hand on your shoulder ushering you in so you can learn about this incredible man they loved so much — that will never cease to surprise and inspire you.

My first beat in municipal reporting was very much a lesson in how things work: budgets, politics, the minor minutia that keeps every small town in America plodding forward — you get a whole new, fascinating look at it from inside the municipal reporting beat. It’s not always — OK it’s never glamorous. But if you’re a curious person — and I think all of you must fit that bill if you’ve made it this far — it has a lot to offer.

Next came police and court reporting, which brought along a whole different set of challenges and lessons. Here I learned about how to report on stories that were unfolding at breakneck speed. The increasing emphasis on multi-media reporting was put to test as I learned to take photos for the web, shoot video and gather whatever information I could. The workload was as stressful as it was exciting.

And it was here that I learned about the depths of my empathy and how crucial they can be to this line of work. Stories revolved around some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in people’s lives — be they victims or perpetrators. My work took on a new power because the subjects weren’t a zoning hearing board, they were people.

Sooner or later though, you learn that this is true of all journalism.

I’ve moved back into the municipal beat since starting a job at The Morning Call, a bigger paper in Allentown which had been, for seven years, my arch rival. I was always friendly with any fellow journalist I encountered on the job, so they all knew me well and over the years had encouraged me to apply for a job at The Call. I always demurred.

But eventually, after The Express-Times was rocked by layoffs, I took the bait and I can remember having so many mixed feelings about the prospect. Which I quickly learned was very silly. Our news editor’s first question to me during the interview, “What took you so long?” set me at ease.

The Morning Call opened up a whole new era of reporting for me. A larger paper, it afforded more opportunities for long form writing, for investigative pieces and enterprise work. My curiosity is always rewarded.

And — because the nature of this profession is a constant education — I’m learning that lesson about people. Stories that might seem mundane at first glance are still about the people. Investigative pieces about a charter school’s financial health is still about the students, the staff, the people. The zoning district change for a whole township that could help curb warehouse development across enormous swaths of farmland — it’s about the residents, the farmers… and the developers seeking to stay in business.

Every story — particularly in local reporting — has an impact. It touches people and it makes a difference. We hear constantly that subscriptions are down, people aren’t reading the news like they used to be — but the truth is they are reading. There are more eyes on our stories now than ever before and the reach can be so much wider because of the same forces threatening the future of print.

What we need now, are the kind of people who are adaptable, innovative, creative. The kind of people graduating Lock Haven University and all the other colleges around the country. Cliches get tossed right out of your story, so I’m lucky my editor’s not reading this, but there’s no other way to tell you how important you are to the future of this profession. You guys are the future.

The more you learn here, the more questions you ask and skills you hone and opportunities you take to step out of your comfort zone and into something scary and challenging — that’s all invaluable practice for the real thing. This is the best rehearsal you can possibly have. For the sake of all of us, please don’t squander it.

Now more than ever the public needs a passionate and motivated media that’s driven by a sense of duty and kept in line by a sense of integrity. There are plenty of warranted criticisms, plenty of earned distrust, but the kind of vitriol that the profession is facing from some of the most influential people in the country is unprecedented and could be dangerous. We are the Fourth Estate for a reason. From the very beginning of this country, the Founders recognized the importance of a free and independent press. The shape of the media when you enter it will be full of more challenges, pitfalls and opposition than ever before and so you’re strength and resilience is going to prove essential.

If you leave here for a communications positions of any kind, but particularly in a newsroom, you are inheriting a mantle that should be an honor to wear. Wear it with pride and wear it with conviction.

You’re the next generation in a long, industrious line of newspeople.

And you may very well prove to be the most important yet.

Sarah M. Wojcik is a Lock Haven University graduate, a former intern at The Express, and is currently a reporter with The Morning Call newspaper based in Allentown.