Teaching: The Story I Wasn鈥檛 Prepared to Write

In more than 35 years as a journalist, I never feared prisons, shooting galleries, gangsters, or power-obsessed politicians. Nor did combat zones in Ukraine or Gaza faze me. But a class of 20-year-olds staring at me with blank expressions, waiting to hear something intelligent or instructive, terrified me.

I can handle, without much fuss, the immense pressures and responsibilities facing journalists. But the mandate to nurture a young mind seems almost God-like, a task for which I feel entirely inadequate.

I鈥檓 teaching my first class this year 鈥� news writing and reporting (pictured above with O鈥橞rien Fellows Sylvia A. Harvey (SAH) and Abigail Kramer). It鈥檚 part of the job I took in August as director of the O鈥橞rien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism at 黑料论坛 in Milwaukee.

The job also includes recruiting fellows and overseeing their investigative projects. But, for me, teaching is the most foreign and intimidating.

鈥淭his should be easy,鈥� a journalism faculty member told me before I started. 鈥淵ou know this stuff. You鈥檝e done it.鈥�

Yeah, but practicing and teaching journalism aren鈥檛 the same. How do I explain a process that for me has become second-nature, as natural as breathing? How do I teach determination, resilience, perseverance, passion, compassion, empathy, tenacity, courage, and all the other human qualities that are far more important for success than mere intelligence or talent?

Part of the problem with teaching journalism is that it reminds me I鈥檓 no longer a journalist. I sorely miss the maddening pace of daily journalism. I miss writing columns, news stories, and editorials that got people out of prison, brought a homeless addict into treatment, or changed an oppressive state law. The adrenaline of journalism is addicting. I haven't yet reached the early stage of recovery.

I tell myself I鈥檓 still making a difference but in another way. Now, it鈥檚 not about me and my work but losing my ego and helping others do great work. That鈥檚 what I tell myself. But sometimes I鈥檓 not listening.

True to my nature, I started my teaching journey by ignoring any advice I was given, such as don鈥檛 tell students this is my first class. I told them, anyway, on the first day. I didn鈥檛 want to appear to be an even bigger fool than I am. At any rate, the students didn鈥檛 seem to mind.

They respected my experience and accomplishments as a journalist and overlooked my lack of them as an instructor.

I was also told college students today can鈥檛 take criticism. I ignored that, too, and fired away. I found they will take criticism -- if they believe you care about them and want them to learn.

Two weeks after I started teaching, a journalism professor asked me how it was going.

鈥淎sk my students,鈥� I said. 鈥淥nly they can tell you.鈥�

Rarely do I feel it鈥檚 going well. Pacing in front of 17 students, I often feel like I鈥檓 talking to a wall. Still, there are moments of clarity when a student has a flash of insight or asks a particularly penetrating question. I see a lightbulb go on; I know I鈥檝e connected.

Learning is more than memorizing an arranged collection of wayward facts. It鈥檚 a roar of light that illuminates the darkness within and rocks your world.

During one class, I pretended to be a politician and held a mock press conference, then took questions from the students, who pretended to be veteran journalists. They came alive. I saw them truly engaged and wondered why I couldn鈥檛 do that every day.

The landscape of journalism today is more challenging and treacherous than ever. My students don鈥檛 know what I know, but they don鈥檛 have to unlearn what I know, either.

Digital platforms and tools have created possibilities that are limited only by imagination, skill, and knowledge. For students, the 鈥淕olden Age of Journalism鈥� is straight ahead, not in the rear-view.

It鈥檚 going to be a hell of a ride. I wish I could be there with them.

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Remembering Untold Stories

In America today, the lights are going out. Many urgent stories go untold.

Practically all the record number of journalists 鈥� more than 60 鈥� applying for O鈥橞rien Fellowships this year proposed projects in the best tradition of public service journalism: exposing wrongful convictions, the impact of climate change on cities, a rise in homelessness, mass incarceration, government coverups of environmental hazards, the unseen victims of the opioid epidemic, to name just a few.

Truth be told, dozens of these projects, and the impressive journalists who proposed them, were worthy of a nine-month O鈥橞rien fellowship at 黑料论坛 in Milwaukee. Unhappily, O鈥橞rien can fund only four fellowships a year.

That means not only a line of disappointed people who put in the serious work of applying for a national fellowship, but also an immeasurable loss for the nation. Without funding, without a platform, many of these stories may never be told. Nor will the nation benefit from the difference those investigations would make in exposing injustice; creating a more just, equitable, and healthy society; and making state, local, and federal governments more accountable to the people.   

There are fewer and fewer places for journalists to do this invaluable work. Since 2005, the country has lost one-third of its newspapers 鈥� more than 3,200 have closed 鈥� and two thirds of its newspaper journalists. The legacy media outlets still standing are, mostly, shadows, with stripped-down staffs unequipped for investigative work.

Fewer journalists have steady gigs and more independent ones are looking for a way, anyway, to stay on the grind. For local news, especially, the problem isn鈥檛 demand 鈥� it鈥檚 supply.

Journalists aren鈥檛 perfect. They make mistakes. They ignore stories they shouldn鈥檛. Too many of them are punking out, trying to curry favor with the very people they should be holding to account. Still, as the distinction between truth and lies blurs beyond recognition, most journalists still respect the truth enough to shine a light into the darkness. What happens when the lights go out?    

Sincere thanks to everyone who applied for an O鈥橞rien Fellowship this year. I wish we had many more to hand out. Now more than ever, the country needs to have their stories told.

Pulitzer Prize-winner Jeffery Gerritt is director of the O'Brien Fellowship in Public Service Journalism at 黑料论坛 in Milwaukee.