Yeah, I know.
"Journalism" isn't exactly a nice word these days. Over the years, its reputation has been muddied by its questionable kin--tawdry tabloids, alcohol-tinged tweets and anonymous online tantrums. But, as any decent person with a long lineage knows (and, by the way, I am neither), guilt by association only goes so far before it finally falls flat.
But a profession whose roots wrap around the importance of telling stories is a profession still worth practicing. And, this week, as my students polished their stories, tweaked their layouts and reflected on their semesters, I was given ample proof that old-fashioned storytelling still has a powerful place in our lives.
Sitting in a sloppy circle, sharing the ways they'd connected with someone or something they had otherwise known little about, my Newspaper staff amazed me this week. Their first-semester final assignment was intended to push them into uncomfortable territory, but I had no idea just how much they'd learn while they were there. Or how seriously they would approach the assignment, whether their topic was something as silly as a club dedicated to eating pie or as serious as a Sudanese refugee who had found her strength through the hardship in her life (see link to the story below).
From Africa to America– A Transition to a Better Future By Imani Wilson
And the Yearbook staff did not disappoint either, as their semester-in-review reflections pointed to ways in which they'd been stretched, times when they connected with strangers, and the surprising benefits of taking a chance on something new (see excerpts below).
"Just a simple interview can have a big impact. You meet new and exciting people when you are working on a piece. I get great satisfaction in interviewing people and learning more about them. People love it when others take interest in them--we can’t help it, because we’re human. And, when you see your story, pictures, or layout come to life, you feel a sense of accomplishment."
And from another Yearbook student. . . .
"I have stretched myself in this class by talking with people that I haven’t met before. I am not much of a person to talk one on one with people that I don’t know, and I have learned how to do so without worrying."
If I were to buy a textbook for journalism, I think I'd buy "The Little Engine That Could." Corny as it is, its message is an excellent mantra for scholastic journalism. Writing a well-told story, designing an accessible layout, capturing a powerful moment with your camera--these things do not happen overnight. Or without risk.
I want my students to be in uncomfortable territory. I long for them to face roadblocks and mishaps, challenges and disappointment. I really, really want them to move past personal discomfort to risk learning something new about themselves and their world.
And I have found that the best way to help them do these things is to step aside and give them permission to go, do, offering them occasional roadside assistance along the way.
Contrary to what all the contrarians out there are hollering, journalism is still a noble and worthwhile field and I, for one, am delighted to be standing in it.
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