In January, I vowed to blog more. I also promised myself to run more, read more and craft more (those scrapbooks aren’t going to create themselves!). I failed on all fronts. And I would consider these failures devastating if not for what I accomplished — and what I learned — over the past four months.
After a four-year hiatus, I returned to the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication at ASU as an adjunct faculty member. The first writing class in the program, News Writing is designed to teach students how to write summary news ledes, organize stories using the inverted pyramid structure, attribute information and not get sued for libel (i.e., get it right).
My lectures were frankly nothing to write home about. I’m confident that both my students and I were eager for each one to end. And while the lectures contained important tips for writing different kinds of stories, the real value of the class happened next. They wrote one to two stories a week (which means I edited 20 to 40 stories a week). They had the opportunity to practice and receive consistent feedback — essential for improving any skill.
In the early days, I thought my head might pop off. Why wouldn’t they write in past tense already? What was so hard about putting the comma inside the darn quotation mark? And why, oh why, did they refuse to attribute the facts accurately?
I’d pause for a mental break. They’re 18, I told myself. They’re here to learn. They don’t have to be ready for The New York Times when the semester ends. They just have to be ready for the next class. Then, to the education gods, I prayed: Please don’t let me screw them up too badly.
At some point around spring break, we turned a corner. Suddenly, ledes were clearer, and stories (generally) became easier to edit. They had worked hard. And I could see the results.
Beyond seeing their writing improve, I genuinely enjoyed going to class every Monday and Wednesday. One student noted that of all his instructors, I was the only one who was never late. This, I’m sure, was helped by the fact that before class, I was usually in my office just one floor up putting the final touches on a riveting PowerPoint presentation. But it was more than that — I looked forward to class. I looked forward to hearing their opinions on current events and journalism ethics, and (somewhat sadistically) I looked forward to seeing their eyes roll at my news quiz questions.
After grading the final exams and posting grades yesterday, I realized that I’m about to have many more hours in my week — for blogging and running and reading and crafting — but I’m also going to miss my 20 students (my good friend Murphy calls them “baby reporters,” which warms my heart).
The truth is, I know they learned something. A few even took the time to tell me they had learned something (or a lot!) and enjoyed the class. Flattered though I may be, the truth is I’m certain I learned more. I became a stronger (emphasis on the “-er”) presenter. I became an even more efficient editor. I re-learned the court cases that established libel law. I brushed up on the pieces of AP style I never use. And I became better at coaching writers. It’s quite an education for the 16-week investment.
Maybe it’s because I’m more experienced than the last time I set foot in a classroom or maybe it’s because of this particular group of students, but either way, this semester yielded my best teaching experience to date. And for that, for the opportunity to learn and grow, and for the distinct honor to work for my alma mater, I’m grateful.