Fluffy, I know, but it's easier than launching into a long-winded explanation about how journalism as the fourth estate and journalists as gate-keepers fascinate me, how deadlines thrill me and that uncovering what perhaps most people don't know and shedding light on it - and having an outlet to share that information - is a privilege I seek and relish.
As the professor of my Broadcast II course Greeley Kyle said in class the other day, many people ask "How are you?" without really wanting or expecting a substantial answer. I think we become culturally attuned to this as we grow and therefore get used to giving short, sweet and simple responses. (i.e. You'd better have a real compelling reason for answering small-talk questions in more than two sentences.)
My blog entry this week addresses both of the above, related topics. I'll describe an interview I had with a source last Saturday that went far beyond, "How are you?", as well as a panel of seasoned journalists' take on why young journalists should stick with the job in the current state of the economy and business...that "really liking people" isn't enough.
Journalism Response
Panelists: University of Missouri School of Journalism Professors Lee Wilkins, Charles Davis and Lynda Kraxberger
Station: KBIA Radio
Listening to Wednesday's Views of the News on mid-Missouri's NPR affiliate KBIA, head of the MU convergence journalism program Lynda Kraxberger described the advice she has been giving to the spring 2009 MU School of Journalism graduates, who are facing, as Kraxberger said, "the worst time for someone with a journalism degree to be looking for a job."
"We have had many heart-to-heart discussions with our students about: keep doing what you love, even if it has to be journalism as a hobby. Keep your finger in it, your hands in it. Keep doing things that will allow you to get better at what you do while you do the things that are necessary for you to make a living, and five years from now, people are not going to say, 'Well, why did you do that as a career move?' Everybody will say, 'Oh, well, that was back in 2009, and everybody was doing what they had to, to survive back then.'
"And I really do think we’re going to come back and look at that. Yes, those were very hard times, but it separated out the people who are very passionate about reporting and journalism as a public service from people who are, 'Oh, I thought it would be fun because I could travel around the world,' or, 'I could talk – I like people.'
"Journalism really isn’t about liking people. Journalism is about really wanting to know information and being fair and getting information to people before they get it from anywhere else."
(21:45-23:42 of downloadable .mp3)
Kraxberger's words struck me. I used to inwardly doubt fellow journalism students of mine who kept a blog or photo bucket with any amount of seriousness beyond doing it for fun.
"What's the point? How many people can actually be reading or viewing this?" I thought.
Well, Kraxberger's words say it all. A true journalist will not be kept from doing what she or he loves, regardless of how official or wide-read/-viewed the work. At this point in the state of our nation and profession, blogging about journalism, movie reviews, or photo shoots may be all an aspiring journalist can manage to do while making a living in a different sector of the workforce.
I have sometimes measured the amount of effort I put into a piece of work based on who will see it: the importance &/or number of people. I don't think this is entirely unreasonable. If I'm going to put hours of work into uncovering an untold and important story that could change the way people see or do something, only to have it viewed by ten people, then the full potential of the story has not been realized.
However, perhaps I require a slight shift in - or addition to - my journalistic motivation. My work is not only to better and inform the world around me, but also to better and inform myself. If I put hours of work into a project and it's only seen by a few people...haven't I still gained and grown from the process?
This segues well into an experience I had last Saturday, in which a beautiful story remains untold...and I am determined to one day tell it.
My Experience
I reported a story on KOMU-8 TV last week about a new soybean plant in Moberly, Missouri and what that means for the farming and biodiesel fuel industries.
I toured the plant, got information from a couple of sources and then determined that I needed to hear from a soybean farmer not connected to the plant in any official way. I wanted to talk with somebody who might be affected by the plant's opening.
I put my iPhone to use and Google searched for a nearby soybean farmer.
SIDE NOTE: Thanks to my Solving Practical Problems in Journalism course this spring with journalism professor Clyde Bentley, in which we explored the future use of cell phones in journalism (see the final video findings my group and I produced), I make an ambitious endeavor to use my iPhone in the reporting process, and it has served me extremely well.
I located an address that happened to be 2.2 miles from where I was sitting, Googling, so I drove there. The woman at the house told me she and her husband no longer farm soybeans but directed me to another man who could talk about it.
I followed her detailed directions - look for the first two-story house about four miles past the funeral home - and ended up on the property of the first man seen in my story.
Although the man no longer farms soybeans, he had farmed them for more than fifty years and had been the Randolph county commissioner for fourteen years. This guy knows soybeans and the local economy. I asked his opinion and got good information for the story.
However, much as professor Kyle spoke about in his lecture on interviewing, I dug deeper and fully gave myself to this source and his late-teens/early-twenty-something-year-old grandson, who was out with his grandpa when I pulled up to the house. Because of that, I discovered a story that touched me and I think is worth telling to a larger audience.
When informed that he no longer farms soybeans, I asked why not. He told me his wife died eight months ago - to the day - and after that he felt lost. He lives in the more-than-125-year-old farm house that has been in his wife's family for four or five generations. He told me his wife was born and died in the exact same room. Now, much of the man's family lives on the property, their houses either just across the street or field.
He and his grandson spoke about the recently-departed matriarch with a candid genuineness I don't often see in people. They asked whether I wanted a tour of the old farmhouse. Ahead of schedule, I said yes. Besides, perhaps it was more than coincidence that I rumbled up their dusty dirt road in the KOMU station vehicle on such an eight-month marker. If I could learn something more about this touching story while honoring this woman's memory, then I would.
The interior of the house dripped with memories. The men told me stories in each room - mostly about the wife and grandmother and her positive impact on the family.
I won't go into further detail, but I learned enough from that tour and conversation to decide I want to take this story further, either by passing it on to KOMU-8 TV anchor Sarah Hill, who has a feature series called Sarah's Stories, or pursuing it on my own time.
If that unfolds, I will blog about it. Until then, the story remains alive in my mind, ripe for the telling and further exploration.
Hey Becca i like this last story about the cell phone for reporting it make you think how far we come and were can we go from here
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