/ 16 October 2007

Journalism schools fail to recognise uniqueness

Writing my feature on media education for this issue I was reminded of my experiences as a journalism student in KwaZulu-Natal.

I had enrolled for the course after failing Mathematics in Grade 12 and therefore not qualifying to do medicine at Wits – even though I had been provisionally accepted based on my academic record.

Traumatised, my family convinced me to take up journalism, pointing out that I’d always loved reading and writing. Plus, my brother added, there was no mathematics involved – a deciding factor for me seeing that I had now developed a perpetual ‘fear’ of numbers which I’m working on.

I had a journalism lecturer whose name I will not mention. The man, who was deemed a thinker and great journalist, made it clear to me that I had no business studying journalism. This was in my first year.

Every time I raised my hand for him to see what I had written during practicals, he would look at me with exasperation. Eventually, he started ignoring me, concentrating only on those students he believed were the talented writers.

It was only when I started working at the Sowetan that one of my mentors pointed out an interesting fact to me. He told me that in life there are different types of journalists – those who are very good at getting the story but terrible at putting it together and those who are the opposite.

“If you get a journalist who can get the story and write it well, that’s a bonus,” he said, explaining why even some senior journalists’ work still need to be subbed. And this has stayed with me since.

While I admire the likes of Bruce Cameron and Wisani wa ka Ngobeni for their excellent investigative skills, I’ve always wondered why I can’t be like them. Was my print media lecturer right about me? I love magazines and I simply enjoy doing human-interest stories, does that then make me less of a journalist because I lack the “killer instinct” that “born journalists” are said to have?

And this is the problem I have with tertiary institutions which, listening to my niece, seem to have not changed. While I understand that they need to be at the forefront of breaking news and so forth, not everyone can or even wants to report on war, scandals or from the deep jungles of the Amazon. But journalism lecturers (and I know I’m generalising here) don’t seem to recognise that. As a result, one is made to feel guilty or less ambitious just because one prefers the so-called soft stories. Yes, lecturers need to guide students as to the dos and don’ts of the industry, but shouldn’t they also acknowledge their differences?

Journalism I believe, like life, is about balance. There are those who are good at bringing us exposés about our politicians’ escapades and then there are those who love and enjoy the feel-good stories – be it on human triumph or reports about those living in society’s periphery. None is better than the other.