By Anna Liv Myklebust

Day one of everyone’s internship sounded routine; most people had introductions and HR meetings. I, on the other hand, was assigned a 700-800 word opinion piece due by the end of the day. In that moment, I was grateful to be thrown into the deep end to see if I’d sink or swim. 

The second day of my internship was definitely a mouthful. I woke up in my apartment at 5:00 a.m. to my roommate’s alarm going off. I was hoping to get an extra hour of sleep, but slowly, our apartment came to life. Almost everyone in the apartment was up by 7:00 a.m., preparing for their day. I showered, made some scrambled eggs for the apartment, and was ready to go by 7:30 a.m. I made my way to the High Court Complex in Accra, where I would be doing some reporting with a contact my court reporter connected me with. 

Those plans fell through when I received a message from my contact that the 9:00 a.m. case at the High Court would be happening the next day. Luckily, there was still a case at 11:00 a.m. that I could tag along for. 

At the Supreme Court.

Yes, an intern who had never done court reporting was going to go sit in on a Supreme Court case, and I was terrified. I made sure I dressed professionally, got to the Supreme Court early, and about twenty minutes before I was meant to meet my contact, I got a message saying he was running late and wouldn’t make it. So no, an intern who had never done court reporting was in fact not going to sit in on a Supreme Court case.

I proceeded to wander the grounds outside of the Supreme Court for thirty minutes, searching for a spot that gave me service and texted my court reporter to inform her of the situation. She ended up coming to my rescue, taking me to circuit court so that I could shadow her. That was the most interesting part of my day. 

It felt like we were weaving through every little and large courtroom in the complex. My court reporter knew everyone, and I mean everyone. Each turn we took was another smiling face saying hello. Guards posted at the doors of important cases let her know of what was occurring, lawyers allowed her to look over transcripts and information, and I was simply in awe. 

After spending a few hours shadowing her, I went back to the paper with an assignment to write up a case report. It was not an easy task, especially since I wasn’t practiced in the jargon used to explain cases in an article. Working through each paragraph, I was also well aware of the fact that all of the information I had was practically handed to me by my case reporter.

I spent the rest of my day at the paper working on that case report and reflecting on how you can be so involved in one specific type of journalism. Working at the Daily Emerald back home, I knew many journalists would stick to a specific desk—sports, opinion, investigative, etc. Meanwhile, I did photography for all of them. Case reporting, however, felt so niche, especially when I saw what the result of sticking with that niche meant. 

That result felt akin to how I feel walking into Allen Hall, the School of Journalism and Communication building, back in Eugene, OR. So many familiar faces, so many different backgrounds, and so many reasons for being there. It felt like a community. Who knew that being with my court reporter at the circuit court in Accra, Ghana, would remind me so much of my journalism school in Eugene, Oregon, back in the States. 

I would be lying if I said that my emotional self didn’t feel a little homesick. This past school year, and especially spring term, I was feeling nostalgic because so many of my friends in the SOJC would be graduating, and I would no longer be seeing their familiar faces around Allen Hall. Then, I would think about how I would no longer have that community I’d become so fond of once I finally graduated the next year. It’s something I’ve been dwelling on, and I’ve been subconsciously preparing myself for when I will leave that community, despite it still being a year away. Seeing my court reporter in a community of her own, seamlessly traipsing through the circuit court complex, surrounded by friends, made me feel somewhat grounded. 

I came back to the apartment that night, feeling completely overwhelmed. I still didn’t really know what I was doing at my internship, especially with court reporting, but I returned with a sense of certainty. Certainty that no matter where I am in the world, I could find my community. Whether it’s in my college town back in Eugene, Oregon, or across the globe at circuit court in Accra, Ghana, that simple fact washed a wave of relief over me. 

I went into the second day of my internship, focused on learning the ins and outs of court reporting. I may have left that day still utterly confused, but completely confident with the knowledge that community can come in many forms, and that when I did come back to mine in Allen Hall, I needed to appreciate it, instead of dwelling on the fact that I’d be leaving it soon.