Many, if not most, journalism students tend to get into the field because they like writing. When I hand them assignments asking them to calculate a percentage change, I am often met with lamentations of, “I went into journalism so I wouldn’t have to do math!”
With Sunday night’s Oscar win for best picture, “Spotlight,” the movie about the Boston Globe’s investigation into systemic child abuse by Catholic priests, provided renewed validation of the press’s role to hold the powerful accountable in our society.
This week I, along with a dedicated group of University of Tampa students and a Central Florida youth cultural arts nonprofit called Prodigy, will launch a community journalism program for teens.
In my last post I took some time to consider the ideas of legacy and success from a Christian perspective. When I die, how will people remember me? What will be my mark on the world? What impact will I have made on the lives of others? I didn’t know at the time how apropos those words would be. Last Tuesday my grandmother died. On Saturday I gave the eulogy at her funeral. She was 94 years old.
When I die, no one will make a documentary about me. I don’t expect a big New York Times obit on my grand contributions to society and culture. It’s unlikely that social media will be flooded with worldwide tributes and memorials to how my work changed people’s lives.