Sophie Henschel: Found that putting your own spin on whatever you’re doing is far more valuable than following in the footsteps of the person above you

I took a drink from the only open water fountain on the fifth floor — I wasn’t even thirsty, but I didn’t want people to see my embarrassment. It was my fourth day here. I couldn’t find my class. I was about to go looking again when a 50-something-year-old shadow floated over my shoulder.

“You’re Ben’s little sister, aren’t you?” 

Patting me on the shoulder and heading back to his classroom, the mysterious goateed man told me he was excited to have me in class next semester and “hopes it runs in the family.” 

The infamous Dow Tate — ruler of all things journalism and adviser to my oh-so-overachieving older brother who prided himself on scrupulous news articles and sports broadcasts. I saw Tate’s respect for my brother in his eyes — in his expectant smile that wanted the same from me. 

I decided that day that I wanted to be the next Ben. 

Once I joined staff the following fall, I tried for weeks to impress Tate by taking on difficult tasks the way my brother had — beating myself up because my reporting wasn’t as deep and my broadcasts weren’t as sharp. No matter how hard I tried, my work didn’t feel like my own.

That is, until my design editor, Lilah Faye, looked at me and said, “Sophie, you know you don’t have to be Ben. Let me teach you Procreate.” 

It clicked. My success doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. I decided then and there I was going to make Harbinger my own — and I did. 

I leaned into that better goal. Leaned into the late nights of browsing color schemes and Pinterest inspo, anchoring my own podcasts and creating my own packages. I wrote stories I deemed valuable and found time to sing acapella with Lawder or hit Starbucks with Riley on deadline nights. 

I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone but myself. 

I wrote the stories of student-rights activists, van lifers, teachers’ pay, classmates with serious health issues and more. I started the Harbie families, forcing all the staffers to crawl around making fools of themselves for staff-bonding, stayed persistent about Shammy Shake deadlines and never contained my slap happiness at late nights — making Ceils and Snewt probably want to quit at times. 

So to my dearest Harblings, you guys have made this all worthwhile and pushed me to find who I am. The people that fill the chairs of room 413B have helped me write the narrative of my high school experience and allowed me to be unapologetically myself. As I sign off of the second desktop on the right and close out my WordPress tabs forever, I’ll be thinking of you all — knowing it’s in good hands. 

So, all of you, choose to lean. Lean into yourself, and let those bright blue doors be your safe haven to find who you are — you won’t regret it.