I thought I was going to die. Freshman me stood quivering at the front of the journalism room, sweaty hands jammed in my pockets, and head down. I desperately tried to avoid the gaze of over 40 new classmates. I was already nervous as one of only three freshmen who joined the Harbinger staff that semester, and on top of that, we were finally returning to in-person classes after a semester of online school due to COVID-19. Not a great start — but things were about to get a whole lot worse. Tate — the all-powerful final boss of journalism advisors, and the villain in this story — was leading a lesson on how to take criticism. He said it was based on a scene from “The Mighty Ducks” where the goalie is tied to the goal and his teammates drill hockey pucks at him full-speed. Except instead of a player, it was me, and instead of pucks, my classmates started hurling every insult they could think of at me. Great. Overlapping shouts of “Boo,” “You suck!” and far more unsavory things I can’t ...