California’s wealthiest university confines freshman to a dormitory that used to be army barracks.

However, when I arrived at Stanford University for the Newspaper by the Bay camp on July 6-10, I never even thought about the dormitories. I only imagined how memorable the week would be. I looked forward to meeting my dorm mate. I harbored dreams of somebody mistaking me for a university student rather than a senior-to-be who got lost on the way to library.

Well, nobody ever asked me for directions, but I did get to experience a bit of a university student’s life.

Besides the sheer number of college students and professors, I was surprised to see high school students from across the country registering for their own camps, from cheerleading to swim to lacrosse. It was truly a melting pot.

In the program, over 80 kids were enrolled, all hailing from a wide variety of states. My own roommate was sourced from North Carolina. I remember others from Colorado and Nevada.

Each student was on their school’s newspaper or planned on starting one. Whether or not they were successful was not the point. This camp was about working with each other, writer to writer, editor to editor, learning from each other and our nationally acclaimed teachers.

A reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle visited to give us insight into the field of hard reporting. Mark Fainaru-Wada, one of the authors of Game of Shadows, came and gave us the real story behind his report on the BALCO scandal. From the very first day, it was very clear that Newspaper by the Bay was for serious journalism students.

From 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. we took classes in all aspects of journalism. We were given on-the-spot articles as well as homework in news, features, sports, and editorials. Yet after the classes, the Stanford University campus was open to us.

Despite the 95 degree weather, five other girls and I spent our time exploring the 8,183 acres of Stanford, meeting for Jamba Juice and scoping out the classrooms. Not only were these excursions great bonding times, but I learned a countless number of things about college life outside the classroom.

With my two writing trophies tucked under my arm, I felt conflicted at the end of the week. It was too soon to leave the crackerjack-box dormitory. However, the prospect of returning home with my newfound knowledge of journalism refueled my drive for success in all areas of life.