“Not I, nor anyone else, can travel that road for you. You must travel it yourself.”
— Walt Whitman

Recently, several reporters and I were having a discussion about crazy and weird ways we’ve found sources for our stories.

I brought up the creepiest thing I think I’ve ever done as a reporter. One of the gazillion back-to-school stories I’ve done over the past few weeks was one last week about safety while walking to and from school. It was timed and packaged with another story about school zone enforcement.

Well, I had the tips and the schools and safety officials opinions. I had all the facts about grants the schools have applied for to encourage people to walk or bike by improving safety. One of the areas in particular is adding a sidewalk to a street near three schools down which a lot of students walk each day — in the busy street.

But I needed the real people. I had a lot on my plate that day, and another interview ran long, which meant I missed the bell by about 10 minutes. I thought I was pretty much screwed trying to catch parents that day to talk about it.

As I drove over to the schools, however, walking down one of the streets without sidewalks, I noticed a woman with a stroller and three elementary students in tow. I felt so creepy, but I needed a source, and this was perfect. Obviously the parent would have an informed opinion on the lack of sidewalks because she walked her kids down that street. The question was, how do I get her attention? So. Like they show in all those “Don’t talk to strangers” movies, I pulled up alongside her, rolled down my window and said, “I know this is really weird, but my name is Meranda, and I’m a reporter ….” and she agreed to talk to me. So we pulled off into one of the neighboring parking lots, and she was the perfect person to get into why story mattered.

When I told them this story, we had a good laugh. (Come on, that is so weird. I don’t know how I would have reacted if someone had approached me in that fashion.) And our conversation led to how I’m lucky that I’m female.

Our entertainment reporter was talking about how hard it is for him to do his man on the street interviews for the weekly Speak Out section (basically random questions, mug & quotes style). Apparently, he has trouble getting people to talk to him for those. Then the (female) features reporter commented that she had noticed it takes him a lot longer to do that section than her when she’s had to fill in for him. He made a pretty good point: That woman would have run the other way if I’d been male and pulled up alongside her. He’s probably right.

I never really thought about how being a woman benefits me in this business, especially on this beat. I talk to students every day. Young, old, male, female, black, white, asian, hispanic, etc. I approach parents at random, and usually don’t have trouble getting them to talk. Until he made that comment though, I never really appreciated that people’s innate sexism was working to my advantage. If a 30-year-old guy approaches you and your 5-year-old, you’d probably be creeped out. When I come up in a skirt, with my notebook and politely ask, “Would you mind…” you’re less on the defense.

But then on the other hand, there are a lot of situations where being a woman is definitely not going to win me any points and some places I probably shouldn’t go where a guy wouldn’t think twice. So I guess it’s a trade off. For my beat, though? Score one for being a woman.

Only the Wall Street Journal could take beer pong and make it this classy.

It’s been awhile since I’ve actually sat down with a print edition of WSJ (except the occasional items pointed out by the county reporter whose father bought him a print subscription for his birthday — hey my parents aren’t that thoughtful!). But I do get the CollegeJournal e-mails every day. Mostly it’s recent stories or Q&As from the WSJ. But it’s free and targeted pretty much to my demographic: soon-to-be grads and recent grads setting out in their jobs as new young professionals. I dig that.

My favorite part of the story — other than reading about young people capitalizing on the interests of other young people, (hey why not?) — is the accompanying graphic. I imagine a CEO sitting behind his desk, reading the paper and studying the inner workings of beer pong. That thought makes me smile.

They also have a video (though the audio on it is really wonky, at least it came across that way for me?). I had to watch the video because I wanted to see how you could create a video about beer pong that wasn’t like made for YouTube/Facebook. But, again, there they go making the drinking game classy.

For the past several months, I have been subjected to a weekly recounting of every hit, every catch and every error the J&C softball team has made. This is because the reporter who sits behind me loves to talk about it. It’s gotten to the point where our editor, when he goes to ask what stories he has coming that day, starts off with, “Tell me about the game… and then don’t mention it again.” But it’s all in good fun.

At first, I didn’t tell anyone here that I used to play varsity softball in high school. In fact, the only year I didn’t letter was freshman year, and even then I played up from the JV team half the games. (My position was first, and my freshman year my sister was the varsity first basemen, so when she pitched, I played. Otherwise, I DH’d or sat the bench like a freshman probably should.) I probably wasn’t the best person the team, but I can put the bat on the ball and stop just about anything. But I haven’t played in so long, I never thought I would again.

Then, somehow, I let it slip during a conversation with said reporter that I had played in high school. He could not believe I hadn’t told them earlier. Apparently, they are always in need of female players who can, you know, actually play. (There’s a rule that half your field and every other batter has to be female.) Particularly female infielders are always in short supply.

I kept putting it off, thinking of reasons not to. (Hey, my mitt until last weekend was 350 miles away back home.) I attended a few games to support them when I could, but they practice on Monday and play Wednesdays. Half my Mondays and Wednesdays each month are spent trying to figure out what the school boards are talking about during their meetings. Education here isn’t conducive to playing in this league.

Finally, I threw my hat in as a sometimes player for the fall team. After I suggested the executive editor as a possible player, and she actually said yes (and is apparently pretty awesome, though I haven’t seen her play yet; but again, I’ve heard about it through the weekly game recap), I felt pretty much compelled. I had to join the team. So I did.

Tonight was the first night I could actually make it out to play. No meetings. Mitt in hand. I haven’t practiced in years. Once Abbey and I went to the batting cages, where I sucked at hitting the slow pitch balls — seriously, why are they so slow? and they come at a weird angle — and when I was home earlier this month, my sister and I threw the ball around. That’s it in nearly four years.

And know what? I had fun. I’ve made some good friends here, but even among my co-workers, I’ve mostly tried to keep my distance. I’m younger than most everybody, and I don’t know, I already spend way too much time there anyway. But it was nice to be around my co-workers not in the office or even out to lunch with the prospect of more work ahead. It was fun to be back on the diamond, and apparently, yes, it’s a bit like riding a bike: I’m rusty, but I still remember the mechanics and what to do in each situation. I struck out a few times, but my last few at bats I made solid contact. I made a few blunders, but I also made a few good plays. I even took one for the team — as in my bloody knee in the kitty-litter field so I could stop a throw that way in the dirt to first.

Like I said I had fun. Maybe tomorrow, I won’t grumble so much the fifth time I hear the story about the lightning that struck just behind our field and postponed the game, nor the amazing home run one of my teammates hit or how we beat the first team we played 15-5. And I’ll be back — the next time I actually have a reprieve from my school board meetings.

“I arise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”
— E. B. White

NYT: 10 Things to Do Before This Article is Finished

This is a pretty fun, effective way to write that article.

And in case you’re wondering, I’ve had my “life list” online for a few years now at 43 things. Actually, I need to check off one of the items — make a scrapbook of my college years — because I finished it this summer.

You can also see some of the goals I already accomplished, like “learn to play the piano” (which involved a really time-consuming and painfully bad class my final semester of college), and “move out of Ohio, even if I end up coming back.” My practice so far has just been to move out one goal when I accomplish it and replace it with another, so I haven’t really made “progress” on my list. But then, at 22, I have plenty of time to do all that.

And hey, I slept in this morning. (It’s been a long time since my eyelids were closed past 10 a.m.)

“Determine never to be idle… It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing.”
— Thomas Jefferson

When I was home last week, Stater adviser Carl Schierhorn gave me a personal tour of Franklin Hall. (In hindsight, as in right now that I’m finally penning this post, I should have taken photos and video and given you all a bird’s eye view. I’ll chock it up to stupidity and the fact that I was officially “on vacation” and instead just send you over to the JMC Franklin Hall slide show about move-in progress and the archived stories about the building at the site.)

Tomorrow (er, it’s midnight, so Today), is the first day of classes in the new journalism building. The Stater is continuing production from it’s Taylor Hall hub for at least the next few weeks, while the converged newsroom is being finished. Meanwhile, TV2 has set up shop in the former Student Media business office next door to the Stater newsroom. Not a perfect situation, but a much closer relationship than was even a pipe dream a decade ago.

This is the beginning. No more StaterOnline. No more tv2.kent.edu. Welcome to the future of student media, Kent State students: Kent News Net. One product, always on, always improving.

Though the layout looks a bit rough right now and hiccups pop up throughout the site, the content of which is mostly the annual orientation issue, you get the idea.

There’s Black Squirrel Radio podcasting and TV2 newscasts right alongside the Stater’s stories. Even prominent linkage to the Burr (student magazine). Add to it helpful links to other key KSU sites — like Flashline (the all-important hub of Student resources online) — and Stater.you action on the sidebar, and it’s definitely a winner.

As I walked the dusty halls of Franklin with t-minus a week to classes in the building, I was more than a bit jealous. I want the big collaborative classrooms and shiny new computer labs. I want the converged newsroom, with its conference rooms and single assignment desk. I want windows in the journalism classrooms (there were NONE in Taylor Hall, the faculty and Stater hogged all the windows on the first floor of the building). Amazing things are going to come out of those rooms. And though I’m excited about the opportunities for future KSU grads, I’m a bit sad I wasn’t able to partake. (And no, as I told every single person who saw and subsequently asked me during my tour of Franklin Hall, grad school is not on my horizon for a very, very, very, very long time, if ever.)

Though the new building is amazing, there are some things that will be missed:

• Taylor Hall is central to campus. Franklin’s out in BFE comparatively, at the very corner of campus. (But, it’s a heck of a lot closer to Starbucks and Chipotle, and even the bars for those after-a-long-night-of-production celebrations.)

• The faculty are in what Carl called “pods,” and though they might like their bigger offices off the main drag, I think the relationship with their students will change as a result. How many great conversations did I have from the hallway door of my professor’s offices while I was on my way in or out of the Stater? How much great advice did I happen upon because I stopped in to ask a non-pressing question or simply say, “What’s new?” as I meandered past. Professor hallway is no more. Now, students will have to deliberately go out of their way, to another floor even, to talk to the professors. Likewise, it will be harder for the profs to track down students who won’t be hanging down the hall in the Stater office or in the JMC office reading room area (which is now in an entirely separate area). How many mentor relationships won’t be sparked? I don’t know. But this seems like probably the biggest loss to me. Then again, the professors will probably be more productive with fewer student interruptions, so who knows.
• The Stater loses its window to campus. Not only is it in BFE, it doesn’t have a window overlooking the commons. I never realized how important that wall of windows was until I worked in an office without a single window to the outside. Now, granted, this isn’t the case for the new newsroom, but there will be some loss in identity to student media when thousands of kids on their tours of campus aren’t marched past the Stater newsroom on their way to the May 4 memorial. There’s something to be said of walking past the newsroom. Even for non-readers, you couldn’t help but notice the Stater existed because you saw it every time you went past.
• There’ll also probably be fewer pick-up games of football, frisbee, four square or kickball — and when the weather was ripe, lunch tray sledding down Blanket Hill — than there were when I was there. This was an amazing de-stresser, not to mention a good way to get to know each other beyond the confines of class and work.
• And finally, there will be no 100 Taylor Hall. I know it’s silly to be sad about that, but I am. The next time I’m on campus, the room where I spent more time during college than anywhere else combined won’t exist. At least not in the way I know and love it. It was hard for me to be there last week and think about that. All the amazing fun times and friends I made, all the great stories we produced, all the days I was proud and the conversations I wish never had to happen, but which made me stronger. All I’ll have the next time I walk past those windows is my memories.

I realize that list seems longer than the benefits. I assure you it’s not. I’m just a bit nostalgic, that’s all.

And on that note, I’m out.

Good luck to all the Stater staffers, who probably haven’t even sent tomorrow’s paper and as is tradition missed deadline by a long shot tonight, the first night of daily production. And Godspeed to the next generation of student media at Kent State.

Tomorrow is my friend Trent’s first day at my paper.

I’m so excited. He’s one of my favorite people from Kent, and the idea that he’ll be working with me is awesome for two reasons. First, it’s nice to have someone around who I’ve known longer than seven months and with whom I can totally be myself because he’s seen me in just about every state I could possibly find myself in — and vice versa. Second, he’s a talented designer, and I look forward to the creativity he’ll bring to the job.

Abbey also starts her job this week, on Tuesday. She interned in Lafayette this summer, and she and I definitely spent quality time together. I was so sad for her to go but so happy for her to land a job (even though I’d rather she had taken one closer to me). She’s going to cover night cops in Newark — Ohio, not New Jersey, as we have learned it is necessary to qualify. I do think it would be awesome to cover cops in Newark, NJ. You’d never be bored. :/

Moving on to my original point, I’m just as excited about the futures of both these friends (OK, and all the rest of you’ns who have recently started your jobs or will do so soon — I want updates!). And also for one of my best friends at the J&C, who also is stepping into a new role soon.

Something about having other friends who are professionals makes me feel older, more mature. In a good way.

I’m not just a college-aged person masquerading as a real reporter, which is secretly how I felt the first six months. I was proving myself, to myself. But know what? I am a real journalist. And now, so are many of my friends.

Aside from beat contacts who know my name and contact me with ideas (something that takes some time to develop), I have connections beyond my beat and paper. Not just ties to a university, but ties to real people at other real papers doing their real jobs. I can use my connections here and elsewhere to help others get jobs, as I’ve done twice so far for un-posted jobs (to my own “networking is pointless, talent wins any day” surprise). Who knows, eventually, to help me get a job or do my job better. I can trade story ideas and horror stories with friends who are covering the same beat as me in different communities. I can talk to them about awesome multimedia they’ve done or seen that I want to try. I can follow their blogs (look at the side of this page, the DKS throwback list keeps growing!) or their lives through Facebook.

It’s funny because, as I alluded to earlier, I used to think networking was stupid. If you were talented and driven, that would be enough. But I’ve learned talent and hunger isn’t so rare. If my job search and the subsequent job searches of my friends has taught me anything it’s this: The value of my j-school education had nothing to do with what I learned in media writing or copy editing. I could have and would have learned that anyway. Even in key classes like beat reporting and RPA, I learned more through my work at the Stater. The real value of a j-school education is the other talented and passionate people you meet. I feel fortunate that tomorrow there will be another Kent Stater sharing my newsroom again and for good this time. Who knows whether I’ll luck into more jobs with more of my talented friends later on?

As an Ohioan (sorry guys, I don’t think I’ll ever consider myself a “Hoosier” even if I end up here for a good long time), I’ve been watching all the stories about massive flooding with great interest.

This morning, I noticed an AP story, Ohio residents displaced by flooding look to return home, as a breaking news item on jconline. When I clicked on it one thing struck me immediately: It was datelined Findlay, Ohio.

For those who don’t know, I interned at The Courier in Findlay last summer. And I assure you, no story nearly as exciting as Main Street and virtually everywhere else flooding occurred. In fact, when I pulled up the site I noticed immediately the picture of Main Street flooded. Dude. I LIVED on Main Street last summer probably a block from where that photo was taken. That’s a scary thought.

Last summer, the paper was just beginning to experiment with breaking news and video and all the things that many papers had already tapped. But, it was a small paper in a largely rural (everyone considered Findlay and it’s 40,000 residents “the city”) area. So, it was with trepidation that I logged on to the paper’s site today. I was hopeful, but I was also scared I’d be let down.

I wasn’t. Though the presentation is still lacking (and I’m still annoyed and baffled as to why they put all their stories on a single page?), the content all topping the front page is exactly what readers want to know and very easy to find. I also love that they’re inviting users to submit their flood photos (check out the Breaking News / Flooding sidebar at the top of the site).

Other things that didn’t used to be there, which I noticed as I quickly scanned the site, included a new Staff blog about upcoming stories, etc., and a whole multimedia collection (including several flooding related items). There are still things about the site that annoy me, like the stories being on one page and the photos running very low resolution and tiny. But all in all, I can see how far the paper’s come in a year, and I’m so excited for them and for the people of Findlay/Hancock County and outlying areas.

Kudos guys!