Journalism school hit me—hit all of us—hard. I was reading on my laptop when I tipped gently to the side and fell asleep. I had been studying all day. I woke up and wondered where I was. Inexplicably I continued reading on my laptop, which was still open on the bed beside me, pausing only to stare out the window of my Manhattan apartment, hugging myself as though bracing for impact. My printer shrieked behind me, spitting out printed notes like a living thing.