Life during Reporting

The first day, I inspected the area surrounding my computer. Knowing I would be spending a significant amount of time in that exact spot, it had to be perfect. I adjusted the screen a millimeter or two, checked the keyboard for dust and made sure my chair was comfortable.

I was ready.

That was the day I began my journey into the depths of reporting. It was the class journalism students were taught to dread since the day we walked into Weimer Hall.

My lab professor, Dr. Roosenraad, helped put me at ease that day—he seemed nice and eager to help.

And oh, the help I would need.

So what was life during reporting like?

I wrote story after story in a relentless but heart-wrenching cycle. I made mistake after mistake. I pitched and pitched and pitched. I got turned down. As soon I turned in an article, I needed to decide on a topic for the next week’s assignment. I committed another fact error, something I thought I would never do again after the one I made in Writing for Mass Communication. I went to lecture after lecture where Professor Foley both taught with fervor and passion and entertained with his wit and humor. I canceled plan after plan and sent a Facebook message to my friends apologizing and explaining my unavailability. My life was consumed. I went to lab after lab where I tried to do well on my in-class stories. I saw numerical values on my grade sheet that almost put me into shock. I saw red lines and doodles on my pages—where I had fuzzy article organization or sentence structure—which would make any student cringe. I went to campus event after campus event. I read everything I could. I sent e-mails, talked to scores of sources and embarrassed myself at interviews. I cried. I laughed. I typed. I didn’t sleep. I breathed AP style.

But I survived.

And through it all, I can say that it was an awesome experience. Was it easy? No. Was it worth it? Yes. I learned so much. I gained basic reporting skills. I made new friends (the people who sat next to me in lab). I grasped the essentials. I read through an amazing textbook. I heard from professional journalists in class who inspired me with their journeys. I rekindled the fire for journalism within me. I realized how much I want to write—how much I want to expose the truth and tell stories and be the voice of the voiceless.

Because in the end, journalists are just that. Storytellers. And reporting helped me learn how to tell a story.

But I’m glad it’s over. Now I can continue with my own story. I can delve into different facets of journalism as I expand my knowledge and experience.

And though sometimes I reflect on the computer area I spent so much time in, I know there is much more writing, storytelling and reporting to come.