“I gotta be honest, I thought you were A.I. until we met in person.”

“Some of the people I’m friends with right now, I never talked to on Zoom.”

After three weeks of virtual workshops, lectures, and discussion groups — notwithstanding the constant disconnection, calls during work and frantic texts for workshop notes in the “PSJP ‘26” Instagram group chat — all 38 scholars of the Princeton Summer Journalism Program (PSJP) came to campus ready to write in tandem. From placing bets on how tall we were going to be in person, to teaching each other about our cultures, to connecting through various TikTok dances and karaoke performances (much to the grievance of our hard-working counselors), we all walked away with one message in our hearts: PSJP ‘26 forever.

The program took a turn when we scholars sought to confuse our counselors as much as possible with either the yearly influx of new slang or bringing back old trends. Timed hand symbols were also part of this confusion. Some signs would signify “throwing away someone’s opinion,” others would show that a scholar “captured a moment in their heart.” This wasn’t ASL, it was PSJP-SL. You could “silence” your laugh, and cue your friends to “lock in” and focus, or you could lock in quickly with a hand swish, changing from a smile to a serious face seamlessly. Dance circles formed whenever they were possible, TikToks were filmed in the lounge, courtyard and even on a street while waiting to get into the Sports Illustrated Stadium, much to our counselors’ perplexity. There was hardly a minute where us student journalists weren’t learning new things, and that experience remained akin to that of the counselors. Like the deadline-driven nature of our program, we conjured up inside jokes and traditions at an alarmingly rapid speed — a symptom of putting 38 hyper, journalism-brained students together to experience PSJP. As conversations kept flowing, we learned about each other’s cultures and how diverse we truly were. Without this program, we might not have learned those things and might not have even met one another and made the bonds that we did.

We learned to make sure no one walked or ate alone, from mischievously rushing to get strawberry shortcake ice cream for dessert all the way to walking in Robertson Hall, where we fulfilled our Red vs. Blue team rivalries. Even after beating each other (brutally) in a debate, pens burning with academic fire, we were friends. This is the essence of PSJP and the meeting of kindred spirits. Like-minded intellectuals offering deep musings one moment, and “laughable listens” or reverberating belches the next.

Equipped with several digital cameras, the PSJP scholars braved and LARPed through the ten-day intensive. Despite the harrowing feeling of dropping our phones into Megan’s infamous phone bag before the early-morning trek to breakfast, our arms inCOURTESY OF CARNEGIA HILL ENTERTAINMENT tertwined with those of our suite-mates. Unplugged from our phones for entire days at times, we were still excited to make memories that will only be documented by the photos from our incredible photographers and put into the photocopier after hours of begging. Throughout the in-person program’s chockfull days of lecture, workshops, and tours, each of us grew only more obsessed with journalism — while also walking away with pocketfuls of free snackbar supplies from Bloomberg. We gained valuable insights from professional journalists and editors that patiently answered our never-ending questions, instilling skills in us that would take us far beyond the career of journalism.

Also, it’s apparent with the sheer effort and pure animosity bequeathed from each and every one of us constantly. Through the struggle, the intellect and the relationships we made, it all cemented the ideals of hard work and effort.

In essence, the pipeline, the needle being moved and taking it offline, all at the end of the day succumb to a single streamline, circling back and catalyzing the Princeton Summer Journalism Program into what it is today. In the not fact-checked words of one of our guest professors, “They playing checkers while we playing chess.”

And with that, it’s a wrap, PSJP’ 26, signing out.