As I wrote in my very first article as a reporter for The Postech Times, writing has always reminded me of building with LEGO blocks. The joy of that childhood craft lay in digging through a mountain of scattered pieces and finding the one that fit perfectly. I soon realized that life as a reporter was simply an expanded version of that same game. Every article began with searching for a fitting word whose definition and connotation aligned with the situation, and every sentence required arranging those chosen pieces so that ideas were communicated faithfully and clearly. This process was time-consuming and difficult. Yet the difficulty itself revealed something beautiful: that writing is fishing from the ocean of infinite possibilities to catch a single narrative that is uniquely mine.

In practice, finding that one decisive sentence often required far more work than I had imagined. I remember spending hours sifting through documents, interviewing students and professors, or parsing subtle implications in sources’ answers. Each article began as an overwhelming pile of raw information, with little to no idea where to start. But somewhere in that pile, there was always a single sentence that was a tiny anchor guiding me through the rest. Above all, choosing the concluding sentence was the most enjoyable part. It felt like snapping the final brick of a LEGO structure: Suddenly, the entire piece made sense. Those moments taught me that journalism is a creative practice of carving clarity out of complexity.

However, writing for a newspaper became far more than a personal creative joy; it became a tool for shaping how people understand the world around them. News articles clarified confusion and raised questions. A single article had the power to show what had been overlooked by the community or amplify the voices that needed to be heard most. This ability to deliver information or opinions to a large audience was the very reason I first joined The Postech Times.

At the same time, I realized an article can fail to capture every nuance; a sentence can clarify and still unintentionally narrow the issue. I became aware that my reporting, shaped by gaps in knowledge, time constraints, and my own blind spots, could influence how people think in ways I never intended. That realization taught me that journalism, while powerful, is also fragile: a tool that shapes public understanding even as it carries the weaknesses of its writer.

This understanding of journalism’s inherent fragility required a deeper commitment to the principles I had initially set out. I needed to be an active reader and listener first. I worked diligently to adhere to the cardinal rules: delivering accurate facts; striving to be as unbiased as possible; and, above all, never plagiarizing. These efforts were not mere guidelines. They were the essential structural pieces that ensured the entire LEGO masterpiece could stand for the reader.

Now I return to the line I wrote at the end of my first article. “I just laid the first LEGO block as a reporter in The Postech Times and will proceed until I lay the last piece of the masterpiece.” Today, I finally placed that last piece. Although this role comes to an end, my commitment to careful writing and the spirit of the active reader and listener does not. I acknowledge that I still have many skills and qualities to acquire to become a qualified reporter. Yet, I am confident that the foundation built here will serve as the robust base for my next masterpiece, wherever that may be.