Just a short piece, at least
in part because on the political front I don’t know where to start, and, some
would say, don’t know when to stop, either. So those thoughts will continue to
percolate until they spew messily all over the counter. Not sure anyone is
looking forward to that mess.
A former, now friend, who
shall remain nameless but knows who she is, wrote to thank me and let me know
that she had received kudos (and some $$) from her bosses, based in part on her
written communication skills. The credit is hers, of course, because she took
instruction that was available to everyone and developed skills that continue
to serve her well.
But where those skills were
honed was in the JEG room. JEG was born in my second attempt as a journalism
adviser (my first was short-lived and less than memorable because I had no clue
as to what I was even supposed to do). When Curt Kenner left Hancock (and, for
a while, teaching, until finishing his career in journalism at Lindbergh) after
the 1977-78 school year, the high school needed a new yearbook adviser. In true
Hancock fashion, I was selected because I had the best camera, a Nikon, and
knew, more or less, how to use it. I never was journalism certified, but worked
(very hard) at learning the skills needed to teach it and train young
journalists.
With the help of Rich Wall
(and the gang at Schiller's Photo – an uncompensated and unsolicited plug) and
some enthusiastic young photographers, together we learned how to set up and
run a darkroom and some of the toys we inherited from Curtis (like a huge
process camera). The next year, trying to tap into the Foxfire (cultural
journalism) trend, we resurrected the school newspaper and, eventually, a
literary magazine.
I believed that to build a
program that would be a source of pride for its members, we needed to
create an identity and tradition, just like any team, organization, or club.
Thus was born the Journalism Education Group (JEG). We were successful enough
that the acronym stuck for a long while. (In fact, I think it survives to this
day.) We muraled the wall outside of our door with paintings of front pages and
yearbook covers. My alt. kids also decorated the darkroom with the names of
their favorite music groups, some of which I not only remember but have on my playlist:
Ramones, Blondie, Sparks, Gruppo Sportivo, Devo, Roxy Music, The Tubes, etc.
Music drove a lot of work printing pix in the dark and breathing the chemicals.
Anyway, we grew and
developed not only an identity, but a certain amount of power. As you might
guess, that was not always well received. But I contend to this day that
Hancock’s first state championship was actually in 1985 when we were awarded
All-Missouri status in a state sponsored competition for the school newspaper, one of only two St. Louis schools
to be so recognized (the other was Kirkwood, a perennial all-state journalism
program).
There were a couple
unfortunate by-products of that success: the school principal did not speak to
me for a year and a half; I got tired of the conflict and quit the post after
that year. Our HQ in Room 102 was then broken up like Germany after World War
II, and moved to another, more easily observable, location in the building. I
had some great young journalists in the pipeline and still feel bad about
abandoning them, but the situation had become untenable and I needed to step
away from the fight.
I returned, under a
different principal, to the position in 1990-91 and stayed for another six
years, and while the second batch of student journalists was more mainstream
and less alternative, they were equally successful and proved that
location is just one challenge, not an obstacle.
The point of this, however,
is that I believe a strong journalism program is the best college (and life)
prep available on the high school level. Think about the skills: writing under pressure with
deadlines and for public consumption; editing one’s own writing
as well as those of others; finding multiple ways to say the same thing in
fewer or different words; researching supporting ideas with evidence and
detail; talking with people, making cold calls, developing and living within a
budget; working as a team, playing well with others, committing to excellence.
Unlike many people, the students in JEG
understood that being critical was NOT being disloyal. They felt a part of
something important, something that had a tradition, something that was bigger
than any individual, something that could make the school they loved better. I
could go on and on, and, seeing as how I don’t have anyone to edit me, probably
would, except I said this would be short. (You didn’t really believe that,
though, did you?)
I’m proud
of many things about my Hancock career, but the bright trajectory of the JEG
(which, after several stops and starts, is once again in capable hands) I
consider one of my top achievements, and, if you look at the alums of that
group (both the 80s and 90s versions), you’ll find a significant (and diverse)
number of successful Hancock graduates in a variety of fields. I’m proud of
each and every one of them.
