If you can't say something nice...

The good news is that my long-term to-do list is getting shorter. Slowly.

The bad news is that what I have left is the projects that are the most difficult and the most involved.

Take my trash story, for instance. I had a hard time blogging on our beat's blog about it because some of my sources have been such jerks to me. It also has been an ongoing battle to represent both sides equally in the story. The people with complaints against the system are, of course, being wonderful, because they want their voices to be heard. The administrative people that I've interviewed so far have gotten angry at me on the phone for a) presuming to write a story about the subject and b) reading them things that people have said and asking for comments. One source in particular accused me of deceiving him to get an interview, and telling him that the story was "for a class" (and not for publication), which is completely untrue. When sources pick up the phone and say, "hello?" I say "Hi, this is Rebekah Heil at the Columbia Missourian." I don't think I could have been more clear. I don't think any of us even wanted to say it was "for a class" when we were in J2100.

I don't know how to make it plain to people that I'm not on a side here. I hope they get their issues resolved, but I'm just doing my job.

I also don't know how to give both sides the same amount of face time (or if I should) when half of my quotes from people in leadership positions are them being angry at me.

An update

With everything winding down, I am still pushing to finish up the shells project. This has been a long process and not an easy one. After all the work this group (the class) has put into these projects this semester it would be a shame to have it go to waste.
Unfortunately I haven't heard the plan to keep these two sites up and running in the future.
Will there be a shells beat at the Missourian? A projects class?
I also find myself wondering when the new site will be up. From what I have heard, the technology and interactivity of loading the site will be a great help to our projects.

Anyway, to the week. I had two stories this week, although I was more of a supervisor on the second - the very important school board meeting. Both of these were different deadline experiences.
On Tuesday, before the listening session there wasnt much opportunity to write a skeleton. I could just write one boiler plate paragraph that talked about the failed school tax levy and the board hadnt done this before.
On Thursday there was much more opportunity but it was still a difficult write thru because the meeting ran so long and there was so much information.

My Exhale

It took a couple days longer than I wanted it to, but I finally will be in the position to work on one story the rest of the semester (I think) after tomorrow. The shells project continues to be both fun and frustrating, but such is the life of reporting.

I think when it's all said and done, the green shell will end up functioning pretty well. We have a variety of topics to cover and have left room for many more story updates in the future. Will we foster the conversation we so desperately desire? That remains to be seen, and it will be a challenge that cannot be solved in a week's or a month's time.

For sheer work done on the project, however, I think our group should be very proud. We were able to flesh out a lot of ideas and we functioned well even though the group size was small. Everyone has been doing their part and working hard. Here's to hoping it pays off.

As I said before, I hope to get a longer story written by the end of the next couple of weeks; the little stories that need to be written and the other little challenges in life have been making it a tough go. But there is still time. Not a lot, but enough.

(NotReporting)

I would just like to know why we haven't been taught to be optimistic about our future careers.

We are bombarded with "the coming death of journalism" on a regular basis. In the news and in the classrooms. After a few months, we've learned, and the lack of our future comes up in casual conversation. The message is: Embrace change for the sake of change, or you won't make it in the last 40 years this industry has left.

Sometimes I feel starved. I am starved for adverbs and grammatically complex sentences. I am starved for working computers, breathing room and the promise of certainty — as opposed to the constant reminder that this trade is all about to disappear.

The way people talk at the non-journalism internship I took for the summer is itself satiating . The language they use to describe the future is so incredibly different than what I'm accustomed to.

"You'll have no trouble finding a job," is some of the highest praise I've received at the Missourian. Compare that to:
"You will have so many opportunities after this. This opens doors."

Really, the mentors are saying the same thing. Things will be easier if you work hard. But the language is different. It's taken a toll on me. My dreams are less lofty. Whenever I hear that someone has a newspaper job, regardless of where it is, I'm in awe.

Before I came here, if a former BigManPublisher had sat me down and told me that I was making a mistake, I would have asked for proof, justification and statements of his last newspaper's profits. This year, I just nodded and listened.

The way we talk about our future affects how we perceive it. And if students are told again and again that there just aren't the options there were, should we be surprised if many journalism careers end upon graduation?

I know we need to be strong and prepared for a smaller job market. I know we can't hide our heads in the sand. But I would like to say:

1. Do liberal arts colleges repeat constantly the difficulties of getting a job with a BA in reading?
2. Optimism breeds creativity which encourages innovation. Pessimism discourages it.

PROGRESS REPORT: A lot of phone calls. Few responses. I'm trying. I've asked for something else to work on so that I can do more than waiting to call again.

Decisions

This is a small glimpse of my love/hate relationship with journalism.
Frequently, I've questioned my decision to become a reporter. My first few years in the black press showed me unlimited options for doing what I love.
More recently, I have hated to write, I don't like calling people and I feel cheated out of a senior year. Every day I feel more pressured to conform to a world that I'd rather choose not to and it makes me question my decision.
On one hand, I feel that graduating from the Missouri School of Journalism means that I can be expected to automatically do any job required of me in any newsroom - but this is clearly not the case.
It doesn't help that my relationships with editors here have been strained, and I can't really say I've met any great new people in the newsroom.
Nonetheless, I've enjoyed every internship and newspaper experience I've ever had...
Is it because I don't feel constantly pulled in a million directions by a million different things?
Is it because I haven't found anyone in the Missourian to identify with that I feel so isolated?
And the more people I meet, the more people I find are generally no longer interested in this career path.
Furthermore,
What is it about the MU experience that has made three of the only four black people in news editorial hate reporting?
Should I stay in this field because from what I see the number of black people interested in news papers continues to drop?
More specifically, those who more adequately represent my class and my experiences seem to be non-existent.
Or... well, I don't know!
What I do know is these next few months will determine a lot for me. I hope and pray my experience at the Register will again remind me of the passion I have for this craft. If not, maybe graduate school will do the trick.
Who knows.
One thing I can say though, is that you never forget your first love. Journalism will always have a special place in my heart.

Passionate about passionate people

I walked into the newsroom yesterday carrying a few little pieces of woody grass, Big Blue Indian grass to be specific. I had just returned from a trip to MU's Bradford Farm. The farm's superintendent and a bioenergy engineer showed me what they've been working on and I've been talking about.

I didn't anticipate the passionate dialogue that ensued. I'd ask a question and they'd both have an answer, then play off what the other said and then add something I hadn't thought to ask. I realized these two men have incredible passion for growing warm season grasses and its potential for bioenergy. They also had foresight and curiosity. I left with an adrenaline rush. I was high on reporting.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I am passionate about passionate people. Passion is an emotion that rubs off on those around you. It shines through your eyes, fingertips and body language. It livens up the body. It excites the brain. When you take a genuine interest in someone's passions, it shows. It's the highest compliment you can give someone. I got the feeling these two men could talk about warm season grasses and farming for hours. I could listen for hours. Their passion was intoxicating.

People ask me where I've been this semester. I've been at the Missourian, I say. The scripted and typical response is "I've heard that really takes up a lot of your time and that a lot of people don't like it. Do you like it?" In some variation that's always the question and I feel like people expect a negative response. They want me to tell them I hate it. But I like it. Yes, it's stressful and it takes up a lot of time. But really, what else would I be doing? Where else would I be? Probably whining to a friend over coffee about how I yearn to be reporting.

Exhale

This week, I took a step back. Life, I've realized, is a bit too short to be stressing out all the time, so I just kind of chilled out. And you know what? I think I deserved it...and everyone else here does too.

Unfortunately, it turns out that I also have other classes. Due to my neglect, the notion of me graduating in May is just that at the moment...a notion. My grades in at least two classes are hideous, and in one - taught by a man who sincerely seems to dislike me - I'll quite literally be begging for a D.

At least I got to relax for a bit.


Progress Report: As I said, I didn't do much this week. The baseball team is out of town, so I worked on my other classes, a couple of feature stories, and finished up what I was doing on the shells project.

Next week will be different. I have a grocery shopping date with one of Missouri's pitchers, whom I will be doing a story on, focusing on his weight. I also have the Mizzou/Kansas baseball game in KC to attend, as well as a weekend slate of games in which my father will be attending. Pure excitement.