Awarding season in schools has a predictable script. The stage lights come on, the certificates are stacked and the loudest applause usually goes to the same kinds of students: student council officers, organization presidents, class leaders. They’re familiar faces because their work is designed to be seen—programs, speeches, events, and assemblies. Leadership, in most schools, has become something you can spot from the audience.
But somewhere in the back row sits another kind of leader: the campus journalist.
Not the kind with a sash or a title that sounds official. The kind with deadlines, drafts, interviews, and revisions. The kind who spend nights finishing a story while everyone is asleep, and the kind whom watches the awards night happen without ever hearing their name called.
This is a real issue in school culture: campus journalists are often among the most active contributors to student life, yet leadership awards still tend to favor student government leaders.
The unfairness is not subtle. It’s structural.
The problem starts with how schools define leadership. Student government is an easy fit for recognition because it looks like leadership. It has elections, positions, committees, and visible outputs. It’s also closely tied to school administration, which means it naturally receives institutional support and public praise.
Campus journalism, on the other hand, is leadership that doesn’t perform for applause.
A campus journalist serves the same student body, but in a different way. They report what is happening. They ask questions people avoid. They document issues that do not fit into a program flow. They amplify concerns that are not always raised in meetings. They function as watchdogs—monitoring how power is used in the campus, whether that power belongs to coordinators, organizations, or even the student council itself.
And if that doesn’t sound like leadership, then what does?
Position should represent responsibility. Popularity should not replace purpose. Leadership is proven in action.
A title is not supposed to be a trophy—it is supposed to be a burden. When someone runs for student government, the position they win should symbolize accountability to the student body, not simply visibility during events. Leadership awards, therefore, should measure how well that responsibility was carried put, not how recognizable the name has become.
The danger begins when recognition is based on familiarity rather than fulfillment of duty. Popular students are easier to applaud. Visible officers are easier to celebrate. But leadership is not validated by how often someone stands on stage. It is validated by what they actually do when the spotlight is off.
Campus journalists embody this difference. Their work rarely comes with cheers. They do not campaign for applause; they work toward clarity. They may not host programs, but they prepare the information that allows students to understand what those programs truly mean. They may not be elected, but they are entrusted with something equally serious: the responsibility to tell the truth.
And yet, despite this, many schools still treat campus journalism as a “skill club” rather than a leadership institution. Journalism awards exist, yes, but they are often separated from mainstream recognition. Campus journalists may win in press conferences or campus press awards, but those victories are treated as niche achievements—something for the publication, not something the entire school celebrates as leadership. Even in well-documented cases where campus publications receive major awards, recognition often stays within journalism circles instead of being integrated into schoolwide leadership honors.
Leadership is not performance. It is practice.
And in practice, campus journalists repeatedly prove their commitment through consistent output, critical inquiry, and service to the student body. They operate under deadlines, editorial standards, and ethical expectations. Their accountability is public and permanent—once a story is published, it cannot be taken back. That level of responsibility demands discipline and integrity.
If leadership awards are meant to reflect service, then they must reflect substance. Positions should represent responsibility. Popularity must not replace purpose. Leadership is proven in action—quiet, consistent, and often unseen.
A fair school would not ask, “Who had the biggest position?” It would ask, “Who carried the greatest responsibility?”
Because leadership is not always the person holding the microphone.
Sometimes, it’s the person holding the truth.
Written by Micaella Macuja | Presse, Insight PH
Micaella Macuja | Presse, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
