Recently I wrote about celebrating my second anniversary of working for the Gazette. In that column, I reflected on my life in Grand Forks, and belonging here.
But in the few weeks since that column, I’ve been thinking even more about working for the Gazette, and how my degree prepared (or didn’t prepare) me for this job.
It surprises many people to know that I have a four-year degree in journalism – I didn’t end up in this job by chance. I decided when I was around 10 years old that I was going to be a reporter one day, and lo and behold 14 years later, here we are.
It’s worth noting that it was around that time I started watching the Gilmore Girls, and as much as I’d like to think that this lifelong career decision was not dictated by Rory Gilmore in all of her book-loving, pop-culture silliness, I can’t discount the possibility either. But that’s an aside.
A few weeks ago I got an email from an old professor of mine. It was distributed to all graduates of the bachelors of journalism program in the last five years, and the survey was asking about our careers post-graduation: the types of skills we used, the types we didn’t, what would have been useful for us to know, whether we were employed and if so, in what capacity.
The questions on the survey were so far divorced from the reality of my career, it made me laugh - but then it made me really angry. Do I need to operate a drone? Do I edit 4K video? No and no.
A completely unscientific survey of my graduating class would indicate that about half skipped journalism for communications work or other, better-paying jobs; another percentage went on to do a graduate degree; several are still unemployed or skipping from internship to internship; and a few (a very small few), like myself, are working in community newsrooms.
In a graduating class of more than 60, I can think of six working in journalism. To me, that says our educations failed us.
I’m not sure where these professors think their graduates are working, but I bet most of us don’t have access to a newsroom drone.
The reality of working in journalism, and especially in a small-town community newsroom, is far different than I ever could have imagined. The skills I now use are far different than the ones I was graded on, and conversely, I have all this knowledge rattling around in my head that I have neither the time nor equipment to use. You might say the same of many degree programs, but I believe in journalism the difference is particularly stark.
I was prepared exceptionally well to be a cog in a large, national newspaper machine, but ill-prepared to be a one-person newsroom in a small community. Both are valuable, but I think it’s wrong that journalism schools will only prepare you for one.
Working for a community newspaper has taught me how to be my own photographer, editor, page designer and proofreader. It’s taught me how to (attempt to) meet deadlines of my own volition, and it’s taught me how to advocate for myself and what I believe is in the best interest of the newspaper. It has taught me so much more than I ever would have imagined about the tangible impact that reporting can have on people and communities.
Along the way I’ve learned the way that large media outlets portray small communities is often one-dimensional. I’ve learned that most reporters have no concept of what it is to live in a rural community, how to tell those stories, and how to convey the depth of a way of life they have never experienced and don’t understand. That was me before I moved here, and I still can’t claim to be an expert.
When I first moved here, I had to consistently reality-check myself. People won’t care about that story, I thought to myself … or will they? These small stories about relatively minor community happenings weren’t stories I was ever taught would be important, but they make all the difference to the Gazette and our readership – in short, they’re the stories I’ve come to see the value of. They make us truly a community newspaper.
And on the other hand, I’ve had to reconsider long-taught journalistic staples, like “if it bleeds, it leads.” In a small community, I need to carefully consider that accident photo, that drunk driving arrest, that house fire. What would be front page of a major paper may not always work here. We need to have an increased level of sensitivity to our readership.
These are all things I’ve learned working for a community newspaper that I never learned in j-school. But hey, I know how to operate a teleprompter. How useful is that?
I don’t mean to sound bitter; I loved the experience of being in university and I wouldn’t trade the friendships I made there for the world. But something I firmly believe is that while national media outlets are struggling (maybe because their journalists are out of touch?), community media will continue to thrive.
The bottom line is that in whatever form people get the news, people are always going to want to know what’s happening in their communities – and if reporters are going to tell them that, journalism schools need to prepare their grads for community-based, hyper-local journalism as the new reality.
And having said that: I’ve done a lot of learning about the newspaper, and I figured that maybe others want to learn too.
To that end, I’m hosting a Newspaper Publicity 101 workshop on May 3 at 6:30 at the library. I’ll go over how to make the most of the Gazette for your organization – many people still don’t know all that we can do to get you a bit of publicity. I hope you readers will come, if only so that I’m not speaking to an empty room. Hope to see you there!