I've been teaching arts journalism for the first time. Let me offer a small antidote to the sadness in our field -- as jobs shrivel, as doubt takes root -- in the form of a first impression that could seem naive to teachers with years behind them.
My office was filled yesterday as students, one after another, showed me work in progress. They asked for help with interviews and research, hoping to give some convincing form to their passions for opera, quilting, roller derbies, "green" weddings, sustainable design. I'm lucky, because they have no trouble understanding that with the right approach, weddings and roller derbies may share the same tent as Messiaen or Conceptual art.
I met these curious young women and men just a few weeks ago, and I know little about them. But very soon I saw that we all have the same queer urge to condense ourselves into words, into stories. Although they slouch and tease and pretend otherwise, they're yearning, absolutely yearning, to be read.
Writers with this kind of compelling need will demand readers -- create them if necessary. Of course I'm worried that my students' more traditional newspaper and magazine dreams will elude them. But after yesterday, I had a hunch that most would set their ambition on any number of promising platforms -- just as long as they could write.
Jeff, that's beautiful. Their journalistic lives will be richer from having had you, with all your compassion and skill and artful words, as their teacher.