This quick write up about the bigger planes being used at the regional airport was my second of Friday, which was another first. Previous to this, everything I’d done had been much more of a focused look at a single story that I used the day researching, planning, and writing. So churning out two stories, brief as they were, was new to me.

Again, it was a good learning experience to get to see the quick turn around on these types of news. It also sort of clued me into the fact that there are some reporters who know the ins and outs of the minutia of certain local goings on. The idea, for instance, that someone at another paper might have loads of context going into a sudden story like this (assuming they wouldn’t have known it was coming). It’s a bit of a naive realization, but alas. I have been continually impressed by the people I’ve seen who have had their fingers on the pulse of certain sectors of Columbia, who know the players and the context. And I think I also surprised myself with how much I know (after being here less than a year) by just reading what I do on the ice desk (and in my spare time). Obviously, the main thing I know is how much I don’t know, but I feel like I’m getting a grip on this little town, which is making reporting about it more enjoyable, and it’s making the things that happen seem ever more important to me.

Covering this quick write up of an over night fire was my first real crack at doing a brief summarizing report of an event. Working the copy desk has given me the opportunity to read lots of these from Missourian writers before, though, so I had a general understanding of what it should look like. Then, I looked to the handy ‘questions to ask after a fire’ list hanging on the wall, which was also very helpful in steering me towards the info I needed and the structure I could build.

I think the real learning experience was the writing: the language, the diction, the structure, the intention that goes into every word (not that other writing doesn’t have such intentionality). There’s a specific jargon that has to be used with police and fire reporting, which is different than other stuff I’ve worked on, where the word choice is much more focused on being as a clear as possible for the reader. It was, for how short the piece was, certainly the most editing I’ve done with an ACE so far. So, it was a great learning experience and a good chance to experience such a prominent part of reporting. Though I do think I’m partial to getting a chance to actually fully immersing myself into a subject and getting a chance to get comfortable with the content. I like to feel confident in what I’m writing which, I know I won’t always get to do.

One of the strangest things I’ve done so far this semester is certainly some good ol’ Facebook stalking. Obviously, this isn’t my first go round on the process, but in the past I’ve always perused the information of people I am at least tangentially related to (via friend or family). Which, I think is the sort of social contract Facebook users have signed up to consciously (v. all those we have unconsciously signed up to). We all expect, at least in part, to be visible to “friends of friends,” especially since Facebook provides us a setting that specifically designed to allow this. I feel like most casual users are aware of this, and okay with it, in a way, if only because your friends have been “vetted.” You trust your friends (or you should, or you want to). And thus, you expect your friends to act with the same sort of diligence: you trust them to trust their friends. (Following this theory to its end, everyone would be trust worthy, but I digress…)

But things get murky when you go after people who you don’t know and who obviously don’t know you. Facebook, of course, makes no guarantees to safeguard your information. And we all know  that we are visible, in some way, to others. But I think there is a cognitive gap (at least for me). We know it’s possible for strangers to explore our personal information. But we don’t expect it to happen to us.

Amid this internal debate, though, I know that the end to my means is of importance to the community — enough so to merit my “Facebook stalking.” Still, I can’t help but feel the eerie reality of the digital footprint we have all unwittingly created.

Thoughts on Filip Bondy’s “How Vital Are Women? This Town Found Out as They Left to March”

I was immediately rubbed the wrong way by this article. Simply the central premise is upsetting: How vital are women? The answer should be inherent, yet for some reason, the value of one half of our society had to be questioned. To boot, the piece itself was entirely simplistic and focused mostly on how challenging it was for men to be (gasp) sole parents for the day, as though such sacrifice was titanic and these husbands had really stepped up to the plate.

I could tell things were only going to get worse just a few lines in: “Routines were radically altered, and many fathers tried to meet weekend demands alone for a change.” More inanity followed, “growling stomachs required filling on a regular basis,” “Usually, these chores and deliveries were shared by both parents, in a thoroughly modern way. On this day, many dads were left to juggle schedules on their own,” “‘Doing everything by myself all day long is not typical,’ Mr. Coyle said, not so much complaining as stating a simple logistical fact.”

I’m still working on formulating just exactly how I feel about this piece. But I am certain that it’s a thoroughly demeaning and pointless piece of reporting. If anything, it seems designed to point out how hard those poor dad’s had to work while their selfish wives were away marching for those silly rights (part of me kept expecting the article to eventually just say, ‘and by the way, there’s no such thing as gender inequality’).

I can see the value in taking a look at how a small community was impacted by such a huge event, especially one that disproportionately drew women to partake. But to build such an article around that opening question — How vital are women? — feels more like part of the problem, than an earnest attempt to capture zeitgeist of the moment.

Nothing about it ever felt news worthy. It basically boiled down to: Lots of women went to march. Fathers had to act like fathers even though it interrupted their weekend. It was hard. They were happy when the women got home. Yoga studio attendance returned to normal.