Senior Column — Ben Henschel

Ben Henschel was named 2020 International Journalist of the Year runner-up, National Journalist of the Year runner-up, Kansas Student Journalist of the Year and Kansas Writer of the Year. He plans to attend the University of Missouri, majoring in Business and Journalism as well as minoring in Constitutional Democracy.

“Is it too late to grab one?”

Tate’s eyebrows furrow. Ben Henschel — that’s who that is, right? — took J-1 the year before, but wasn’t anything special. Not the journalistic archetype and a surprise to see in room 521 again. Tate shakes his head and points to the table of application brochures. 

It was the day before Harbinger applications were due, and after quitting two sports sophomore year, applying was my last-ditch swing at something I might actually enjoy in high school. I banked everything on the chance it would work out, on the chance I could prove my self-doubt wrong. 

Luckily, things worked out. Two years removed, and the way my life and The Harbinger have competed for my time and sanity is a tired joke. I could write a billion words about who and what I’ve come to cherish about this publication. But for the first time ever — queue jaw drop — I’ll be nice to the designers and stick to my word count.  

The Harbinger and its decades-long legacy gave me something to chase and taught me how gratifying it is to tear tracks after the runner ahead of you. The best way to live? On the heels of your goals. 

There’s a heavy bag to carry with me once I finally log out of our site’s admin page, chock-full of indispensable traits I’ve picked up leading the staff and pursuing tough stories. At first I was addicted to a pace that competitive sports never gave me, and the chase got out of hand before I could blink. So I kept my eyes open. 

Sleeping became the secondary use of my bed, instead taking the role of an overstuffed shelf. Picture a fun assortment of transcription packets from lawmakers and illegible notepads strewn about the covers. Here was a kid who woke up with his face uncomfortably embossed in the dirt speckles of his desk. 

Ten hours with tired eyes fastened to both laptops — and he’s smiling? Somehow, yeah. Maybe because the espresso shots flowed like water. 

Eventually I learned to channel my drive into something healthier, calcifying my lacks and bolstering my vigor without completely upending my health. But I didn’t compromise. The Harbinger has produced Pulitzer winners and business heads, real role models. Anything less than a full gas pedal would be a disservice. 

I extrapolated that ideal to my life at large — where there isn’t a stopping point, nothing’s quite enough, the wolf is always scratching — and my envisioned limits dissolved a bit. I realized the impetus to succeed isn’t hard to grip if you’re held down by the moorings of your ambition. 

Of course I didn’t reach a few of the far-fetched goals I set. There’s always more for me to finish, a stack of to-do lists left, mainly offbeat op-ed ideas and new website plans. 

But all of this, what I never thought I’d be able to say goodbye to —  the routine, the staffers, the elegance of waking up to an exciting responsibility — is a bit easier to part ways with knowing that next year, someone will follow suit and start chasing too. 

Meanwhile, I’m onto the hardest chase yet: moving forward past the most rewarding part of my life. But if my time here’s taught me anything, it’s that crossroads like these aren’t for hesitancy. 

I owe every bit of tenacity to The Harbinger — and probably you too, Tate. I had to prove that furrowed brow wrong.