Dear Hutchinson and Litchfield,
I’m Kendall Larson, but I don’t really use my last name much, so forgive me if I omit it at times. I’m one of the lucky new reporters working with Crow River Media. I figured you all might want to know the person who is going to be driving around the area asking questions about what you do. So here is my condensed life story of how I got here.
I’ve lived in Minnesota my whole life. When I was younger I lived in the middle of nowhere, better known as Granada. If you haven’t heard of it, I don’t blame you, I didn’t know the name until I was at least 14.
I moved with my family to Mankato a few months before I turned 10, and lived there up until I started working here in Hutchinson. I have a lot of great memories from that time, and not so great as we all can relate to.
College was a whole new world for me. It was the first time I would be learning on my own surrounded by people around my own age. It brought forward my insecurities but also a lot of my strengths.
One strength that I didn’t really know I had until college was writing. In high school and middle school I did alright, but I didn’t have anyone to really compare to. In college that changed.
It was in English 101, the most basic of writing classes that everyone had to take to graduate. I hadn’t expected much going in, but was soon swept away into the world of reports and stories. I had this professor that changed my whole view of writing and lit the fire under me to keep going.
I learned to write for myself, but more importantly for others.
I took up writing more seriously and even declared myself into an English pathway. I originally started going into teaching English, because I’ve always wanted to leave an impact on the world. I wanted to help, but unfortunately that didn’t work out.
Right when I was about to get deep into learning how to teach, COVID-19 hit and wrecked many of those plans. The classes I took just couldn’t cover what I needed and I ended up switching majors into English Studies.
English Studies was an odd major. You built your own path of study and rolled with it. I picked up a lot of technical and creative writing in the beginning which eventually led me into pursuing creative nonfiction writing and a little editing.
Taking the creative nonfiction classes introduced me into journalism. I had a professor who helped me find what I wanted to do by giving me an opportunity. She introduced me to my college’s newspaper, the Reporter.
I didn’t know what to expect going into the Reporter’s office. It was quiet compared to the hustle that Hollywood always showed. Somehow the quiet made me more nervous, but I pushed through because I needed to know.
It didn’t take long for me to get “hired” and I say that in quotes because it was $12.50 a story. I was employed, just not for very much. But ultimately, I was there to learn and get experience, so what money I did make, ended up being coffee money for all those early morning interviews.
I met many different people while working at the Reporter. Some of them were my coworkers and peers who offered me advice and guidance when I was stuck. Others were my interviewees. Each one was so different from the last. It certainly threw me through the loop the first few times. I can still remember my first story.
I was doing a piece on a master student doing her thesis show. It was late in the evening during the end of winter. She was already late and had completely missed our time to talk before the event.
The artist had no time to sit down and talk, so we worked on the fly. She set up some last-minute artwork while I stuttered through my questions. Not even halfway through my questions the event had to begin.
I ended up awkwardly standing there waiting for the artist to be free to speak, but that time would not come. I waited through the event, and even saw one of the Reporter’s photographers come and go. Finally, the artist was ready to give her speech.
I didn’t get to hear her thoughts one on one, but somehow it didn’t matter as I heard her speak about her passion, her life, and her journey. While I had feared not getting a story, I was missing the one around me. I could have talked to the guests walking through, or the family there in support, but I got hooked on what I thought was needed and I missed the story that was already being told around me.
That first experience taught me a valuable lesson. Don’t get so shortsighted. Look at the picture around you and who is getting involved. A story is more than a single person and it will often tell itself with a little prodding or digging.
While that story wasn’t my best work I still appreciate what I learned from it. And I will be taking what I know moving forward as I explore and learn about the communities around me.
