Journalism students having identity crises seem to be visiting my office lately, seeking counsel. Their uncertainty has moved me to write this blog post. I tend to relay one message to them: Despite all the industry turmoil, despite the very real concerns they might not be able to make a living as a professional writer, despite the hard work being a reporter entails, the job of journalist trumps most other jobs I can think of.
I’m not sure what other day-to-day job provides the opportunity to ride along in police cruisers, drive farm tractors, fly model airplanes the size of a classroom, talk to a creator of the Manhattan Project, talk to a creator of the Internet, hang out in emergency rooms, access backstage, effect legislative change, learn how to invest money, meet famous people, sail, fish, network, hear how a woman covered with external benign tumors aimed to make someone laugh every day, interview presidential candidates, know how a town operates, analyze tax code, discover that I could talk to anyone about anything, understand how to find information on just about anyone and anything and then to write a story about it all — on deadline.
(Um. Of course, it also provided me with the opportunity to get shit on by cows, ruin countless pairs of shoes, miss parts of my brother’s wedding, spend Black Friday in the middle of Wal-Mart, wallow in an empty newsroom on Christmas Day, get my car broken into doing a story in a bad part of town, be lied to often, endanger myself trying to chase the police chase, and — the worst worst days — write sad, sad stories about death. But even these situations taught me something, each and every one: never wear white to a farm, carry extra boots in my car, videotape weddings, bring my checkbook to work on Black Friday, host Christmas the next day, buy anti-theft devices, learn how to spot a liar, drive fast well, and develop empathy and compassion for my fellow human beings.)
Don’t get me wrong: I love my new career as a professor. I find infinite satisfaction in teaching and enjoy immersing myself as a researcher. I fancy that I can make something of a difference investigating the industry by providing pragmatic recommendations. Still, as a journalist, my faith in humanity was alternatively destroyed and rebuilt — often in the span of a single day. It was worth all the sad paychecks and long work days and professional instability and corporate politics.
Dear students, please try it out. Take a chance, if only for a little while. I don’t think you will be disappointed. And in the process, our democracy might grow just a wee bit healthier for your decision.
The recent coverage of the 911 anniversary was prolific to say the least, and some, I know, do not understand the media’s fascination with anniversaries. But I always love a good anniversary, and spent a good chunk of my Sunday, Sept. 11, glued to the television. I pulled out a couple pieces for my news producing students to take a gander at, and sent them out on our listserve. Thought I’d share here as well:
1) This Nation piece is important for journalism students to read because it really gets at something significant about humanity. It’s not just another memorial piece or article about the anniversary coverage. It delves deep into our feelings about suicide and death and honor. It delves into our societal values.
Do note the incredible details the report got here, as in this sentence: “Richard used to look at the postings and the photographs on the internet and sometimes wondered if Karen had jumped. She was very vain and particular about her face, he knew; she used plenty of wrinkle cream, and he always figured if conditions were that bad she would jump rather than face the fires.”
2) And also, check out the images here at the NYT of the memorial ceremony. Study the photographs. Note how they show emotion and perspective. Note how they focus on a specific subjects despite the mass crowds and chaos of the day.
If you are interested in following some of this, we have a twitter hashtag at #jprotrack.