I messed up.
Someone once told me the difference between journalism and businesses majors is that one will sell their soul and the other will write about it – for a profit. I’m not quite sure what that says about me since I major in one and minor in the other.
One of the reasons I decided to be a journalist was my overdeveloped streak of honesty. Perhaps it is childish or na’ve, but I think it’s honorable. And although I may never be the financial success some of my relatives would prefer, I feel my career choice is one that can have more impact than others.
Few people get to have their thoughts expressed in a way that carries weight on a regular basis. (I’d like to think that anyway.)
I had several goals this semester: get more staff and develop the staff for after I graduate, keep up my grades, relieve some stress of my colleagues, and better relationships with faculty on the campus.
So far the last one has been the hardest.
Time and time again, I hear about students having difficulties with interviews of faculty members. Phone calls never returned or returned after deadlines have passed, reluctance to do interviews or not wanting to do interviews over the phone – “let’s set up a time for you to come by sometime next week” can be a story’s death knell at times when a student is rushing to get a five-minute phone interview.
Many times the faculty members give a similar reason why they are reluctant to speak with students on The East Texan’s staff: “The last time I spoke with someone from the paper, they got it (facts or quotes) wrong.”
I don’t doubt it, and I don’t blame them (the reluctant).
In a dark humor way (my favorite flavor of funny), the students complain about the situation and contribute to it at the same time. I sometimes wonder if the mental image of protesting faculty members in our writers minds is of an old man telling kids to get off his lawn – “You darn kids!”
(Honestly, that’s me on the weekends.)
Although I do make a distinction between the team members of our newspaper in the past and those currently on our staff, I also realize that our reputation is an inherited one. The actions of the current group will influence the attitudes confronting those after us.
Worse yet, I contributed to the trepidation of the faculty members.
In last week’s story on privacy waivers, I failed to put the final version on the page. What printed was the version with my intended edits.
Nobody else screwed up; I did it. Worse yet, the person I erred against was someone who had trusted me despite past issues with our staff.
And when she called to tell me, she was still polite. In the kind of way like you disappointed your favorite aunt. That’s the worst kind of polite.
You feel sick to your stomach and guilty and try to figure out a way to make it right. Which is foolish – there is no way to make it right. Apologies seem shallow and history doesn’t rewrite well. (No political tangents, please.)
I had shot myself in the foot, stuck it in my mouth and hurt my efforts to strengthen campus relationships.
Someone told me once that the only thing a man has is his reputation. (It was either my grandfather or John Wayne or my media history professor. They tend to blend together in my associative memory.)
Someone else said people forgive mistakes – but they rarely forget.
To the faculty members who have had a bad experience like this, I apologize. I also ask you to forgive and let the students on our staff keep trying. I know we have made mistakes and will likely make more in the future. But remember, this is a school – a place of learning. Please continue to work with us and allow us to the chance to improve.
Thank you.
Now excuse me while I try to get the taste of my show off of my tongue.