In scholastic circles, we know the grading scale -- 90-100 is an A, 80-89 is a B, and so forth. Of course, on such a grading scale, that means you can be wrong 40 percent of the time and still pass. It cracks me up when students laughingly say "D means diploma," as if they're proud of being wrong 40 percent of the time and just barely skating by.
I want my students to aim higher than 60 percent -- I want them to try to attain excellence and succeed up to, and even beyond, their potential.
But in journalism, it's vital. A 95 percent grade isn't an "A" in our profession, it's failure.
Today, the latest edition of the IBJ hits the streets, and my story on the Hoosier Momma company -- the first one I wrote for this publication four weeks ago -- is the Page 3 centerpiece. I had quite a bit of pride in seeing such a story on the page on Thursday when it was getting ready to head to production, one of the top stories in a well-respected publication.
Then, I came into the office this morning and saw my inbox, with an email from one of the company's owners.
Usually, that means one of two things -- they're praising you for a job well-done, or they're telling you that you got something wrong.
It's the latter. Two mistakes that shouldn't have made it into print did -- one was a misunderstanding from the interview, one a clarification that got inserted in the editing process that wasn't checked out in time. Either way, such things are unacceptable, because 98 percent right isn't good enough in journalism. We have to strive for 100 percent accuracy 100 percent of the time. NASCAR driver (and now TV commentator) Darrell Waltrip used to say "I don't care what you write about me, as long as you spell my name right." In other words, the facts have to be perfect because that's what is important to our source.
Needless to say, I sent the corrections to our editor, immediately identified the problem and set out to make sure it didn't happen again. But having to write a correction ruined my morning, knowing that I had an imperfect story get through a pretty ironclad editing process and into print. I feel like I've let my editors, my colleagues and my publication down, as they have entrusted me with the opportunity to uphold their high journalistic standards, and I didn't do that.
Our young high school journalists have to understand the same. Whether you're a 14-year-old freshman working on your first published story or a 75-year-old grizzled veteran who has written thousands of published stories, the zeal for the truth and 100 percent accuracy is important. Any slip-ups, no matter how minor, are grave to your credibility with your readers and your sources. And if you mess up on that front, make it right with a correction and come up with a plan to make sure it doesn't happen again. It doesn't have to ruin one's day, but there has to be a consequence -- whether brought on by you the adviser or internally -- for mistakes.
In journalism, only 100 percent is passing, 99 percent is a failing grade.
A mentor of mine, the late Mary Benedict, often would define journalism as, "Not always your best work, but the best you could do in the time you have to do it."
ReplyDeleteI always liked Mary's definition because it acknowledged a high standard "the best you could do" with a reality check, "in the time you have to do it." This definition acknowledges that mistakes are part of the process.
I agree with you, Andrew, that a good journalist must expect his/her story to be perfect. But as an educator, I think the real story lies in what you've learned from this experience. I think you are a better journalism teacher for testing your own work professionally. And you are a better teacher for knowing that even in this environment, honest mistakes will be made despite your best efforts within your deadline.
I think the knowledge and understanding that you take from this experience will make you a even better journalism teacher. As journalists, our "reach should exceed our grasp," but the story for our students is that when they fall someone who understands will help them back up so they can try again.