It was a homecoming as I stood behind a podium adorned with the University of Southern Mississippi logo to address the students, advisers and professional journalists gathered at the Mississippi Scholastic Press Association’s Fall Convention on Oct. 30. For me, it was more than just an opportunity to speak—it reminded me of the power of beginnings.
Southern Miss is the place where I earned my journalism degree. Southern Hall is the place where I first learned to chase stories and shape narratives. I filmed my first news package at Hattiesburg High. The quad is where I first dreamed of working in broadcast journalism, fueled by the energy of storytelling and the belief that my voice could make a difference. It was in Dr. James Hall’s office that I first recognized I really could be what I wanted to be.
So it was particularly meaningful to stand on a stage in the Union to speak to aspiring high-school journalists. I was their age when I decided to chase the dreams of news. My senior memories book says I wanted to be “a political correspondent.”
It was more meaningful to share the moment with some of my Youth Media Project students, who traveled with us from Jackson to facilitate Solutions Circles with the students. In a room filled with teenagers, this group boldly cheered me on after having made sure my hair and lipstick were just right. There is something especially fulfilling about seeing the students you cheered on as they produced remarkable stories then do the same for you.
One would tell me later, at our end-of-program banquet, that her adviser mentioned the convention speeches were usually pretty dull, and she told her, “Uh uh, not with Mrs. Torsheta.” I asked her what she thought, and in her perfectly teenage way, she said, “You did that!” tapping her thumb and index fingers together in the motion that I learned last summer was the new equivalent of clapping.
The day of the banquet, MSPA published the transcript of my speech on their website. To say I was flattered when they asked to do so is a huge understatement. It felt good to think that my words had inspired someone in the room so much that they wanted to share them with others.
Rereading it online, I realized there are two things I really hope resonated.
Detours don’t derail purpose.
What I hope students heard most clearly is that detours don’t derail purpose. They refine it.
I never became a broadcast journalist. For many years, I didn’t think I would be a journalist at all. I shared that when I graduated, broadcasting was a challenging field to break into in Mississippi. I had family responsibilities here, so packing up and moving across the country for an entry-level news job simply wasn’t an option.
Life rerouted me into the classroom. I thought it would be a temporary stop. However, “temporary” turned into nearly two decades, where “the classroom became my newsroom, and my students became my audience.”
What I didn’t realize then was that teaching and journalism are deeply connected by the same core value: service. As a teacher, I served students by helping them understand the world, ask better questions and find confidence in their own voices. It was a calling, and I loved seeing the spark when Shakespeare made sense or the research process finally clicked.
I poured into teaching, not realizing that journalism was quietly waiting for me to come back for it.
Sitting at my desk at Raymond High School in 2012, I answered an ad in the Jackson Free Press for freelance writers. That opportunity brought me back into the world of journalism. I became a writer again. I told stories about people and places across the state for JFP and eventually Bash Brothers Media, Mississippi Scoreboard and others.
Teaching shaped the kind of journalist I ultimately became: one who believes storytelling is an act of service, whether in a classroom or a newsroom. Freelancing reminded me that purpose doesn’t vanish when the path shifts, it grows with you.
Which brings me to the next thing I hoped those at MSPA gleaned from my speech …
Journalism is a calling rooted in service.
When I finally made it into a newsroom full-time in 2023, journalism became my new way of teaching. Yes, I do spend my summer teaching journalism to some of the metro area’s brightest emerging writers, but that is not what I mean.
Through my work, I still illuminate truth, amplify voices and make information accessible and meaningful. My journey back to journalism reminded me that storytelling is more than a profession. It is a calling. When I freelanced, founded the Crusader Chronicles at First Presbyterian Day School in Jackson, and later joined the Mississippi Free Press, each step reaffirmed what I told those seated in the Thad Cochran Center banquet hall that October afternoon: “Journalism gives people the power to be seen and heard.”
I reminded students that day that their voices are not something to grow into someday. They matter now. “You are not just observers of history. You are shapers of it,” I told them. “Your phone is a newsroom. Your voice is a platform. Your courage is the headline.”
Journalism is a calling rooted in service. When we teach the next generation of journalists to ask better questions, examine their own biases and approach each story with both depth and empathy, we are shaping the future of our civic life. These aren’t just lessons for young journalists. They are reminders for all of us who believe in the role a free and ethical press plays in strengthening our communities.
To the educators and professionals in the room, I highlighted the responsibility we share: “Teach courage alongside craft … connect your students with real journalists and real newsrooms … reach back, lift up and light the way.” Journalism survives and thrives when each generation invests in the one that follows.
Encouraging young journalists isn’t just about their careers. It is an investment in this world’s ability to understand one another. Our job is to nurture that spark, give them the tools they need, and make sure they know their work matters. Gatherings like the MSPA convention remind us that the future of journalism is already here, sitting in classrooms, holding notebooks, carrying cameras, drafting their first stories, and discovering their voice. Our job is to make sure they know why it matters.
As I closed that day, I spoke directly to those students. “Your voice is not small,” I said. “Your story is not insignificant. Your truth can change the world.”
That message is the heart of why I do this work and why encouraging young journalists is essential to the future of an informed, connected and compassionate Mississippi. It is why I will forever cherish the opportunity MSPA afforded me.
And of course, I couldn’t leave without the words that shaped my own beginning and now echo into the next generation:
Southern Miss. To The Top.
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.