No model army

If my news writing classes over the last three semesters are any indication, fewer and fewer journalism students are reading newspapers or news magazines. This is not conjecture — ask the class and they will tell you (and have told me) that they get their news from social media, the Web, from a variety of sources both reliable and unreliable. And it is evident in their early efforts at news writing.

The issue is not their writing — most of my Rutgers students have a solid grasp of the various mechanical issues that seem to plague students in my freshmen classes at Middlesex County College. They can put a sentence together fairly well and link those sentences into solid paragraphs and so on.

The issue is that they are seeking to learn to use a form with which they have had little experience or contact. Not reading a newspaper — or even a newspaper on line — means that the structural components of news writing (good ledes, nut graphs, how to handle quotations) are all brand new to them. They have no reference points or models on which to build — or from which to steal — which is how all writers learn their craft. It adds a layer of difficulty to the already difficult processes of teaching and learning the news format.

Modeling, of course, is part of what we do in the classroom. I break down news articles every week for my students, attempting to show them the component parts and explain how they fit together. And they respond and they learn, but they are behind where they might have been were they regular readers of more traditional news and sports coverage. They are learning from scratch and many — hopefully most — of them will get where they need to go.

It must may take them a lot longer and a lot more effort to get there.

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Another bad idea for rating teachers

John Burzichelli is right that parent involvement makes for better students, but judging teachers based on whether parents engage with the school is pure nonsense.

A-2732, Burzichelli’s bill, calls on the state education commissioner to create standards for parentla involvement on which teachers would be judged, which can include “the parent’s responsiveness to communications initiated by the teacher; the parent’s participation in parent-teacher conferences; the student’s completion rate for homework; and the parent’s responsiveness in returning documents requiring the parent’s signature.”

Got that? A teacher potentially is going to be held accountable for the speed with which a parent fills out paperwork and gets it back to the school or whether a parent actually shows up for a conference.

There seems to be some support for Burzichelli’s bill — based on this story in MyCentralJersey.com, though, the structure of the story and some of the quotations raise questions about just how committed any of the educators quoted are to the bill. The focus of the story is on the importance of parental involvement — nearly everyone quoted talks about it and I don’t think you would find anyone who would disagree that it is better to engage parents than to not do so. But little attention is paid in the story to the elephant in the room — exactly how will teachers hold parent’s feet to the fire” — at least not until the final paragraph.

MyCentralJersey.com quotes Bruce Titen, who is the supervisor of mathematics and a school leader at Plainfield’s Frank J. Hubbard Middle School. Titen “called parental involvement a “very taboo” subject,” though it is “the No. 1 indicator for academic achievement in 95 percent of students, especially at the elementary and middle school levels.” Does he support this kind of legislation? Hard to say, but he does offer this comment:

“The quote given to me from numerous administrators from the time I was teaching,” Titen said, “was we can’t talk about what the parents do or don’t do at home because it’s not something in our control as a school system.”

The story never says whether Titen agrees with these previous administrators or not, though it implies that he does. More telling is that this is the only mention of what is likely to be a massive logistical problem. Teachers cannot control whether parents get involved. They can reach out. They can make the effort. But if a parent doesn’t care or, more likely, doesn’t have the time because he or she has to work, what is the teacher supposed to do?

I just don’t see how you can hold a teacher accountable for the things that go on outside of the classroom. We know, for instance, that students who get a good night’s sleep perform better in school, as do students who have healthy diets. Should these things be included in teachers’ evaluations, as well? What about making sure that students live in safe neighborhoods or that their parents are not economically forced to work multiple jobs?

We should be letting teachers do what they do best: Teach students, engage with students. And we should make sure they have the tools they need — which include money and top-notch facilities. We shouldn’t be blaming them for society’s larger failures.

If the goal is engaged parents, then let’s focus on the parents by enacting policies that make it easier for parents to be available to be engaged, starting with a fair economy that treats all work as valuable.

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The cult of the savvy

Jay Rosen offers a compelling dissection of the political-junkie school of political journalism, which he describes derisively as “the cult of the savvy,” or an “ideology and political style” that “severs any lingering solidarity between journalists as the providers of information, and voters as decision-makers in need of it.”

This kind of journalism, as he makes clear, is about power relations and the kind of winner-and-lower coverage that focuses on whether Chris Christie will still be able to run for president in 2016, rather than on the impact that alleged misuse of Sandy relief money might have on the people who live in areas badly damaged by the 2012 hurricane.

The impact of this kind of journalism, as Rosen says, is the disempowerment of voters. The “savvy in the press”

Cultivate the political junkies. Dismiss and ridicule the activists, the “partisans.” Assess the tactics by which the masters of the game struggle to win. Turn the voters into an object, the behavior of which is subject to a kind of law that savvy journalists feel entitled to write.

Voters should be subjects (the doer of the action) rather than objects (which receive the action), and politics should not be a game. There are too many real consequences at stake.

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Imperfections key to power of new old Springsteen

I have been chewing on the new Bruce Springsteen album or four days now, soaking it in and considering what I might say about that I haven’t said about much of his catalog in the past. Readers of this blog know that Bruce is part of my big four: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Bruce and Lou Reed. And some of you might have read previous blog posts or columns in which I’ve gushed over the latest. In some cases, my judgments hold up — Magic is a complete record in a way that The Rising and its shorthand lyrics just isn’t. So where does High Hopes fit into The Boss canon?

Some random thoughts to carry me through. High Hopes is an odd record in that it is a collection of material that Springsteen apparently liked a lot, but which did not fit onto earlier releases. In that way, it is like Devils & Dust (my original review), which was composed of outtakes from The Ghost of Tom Joad sessions — a record that came out in 2005, 10 years after Tom Joad, but sounded like a completely new effort. Devils & Dust‘s lyrics, which continued the southwestern motif of The Ghost of Tom Joad, managed to connect to current topics — the war in Iraq, immigration, cultural and economic dislocation — and turned the canned material into a meditation on a broken American dream and made it feel more acutely attuned to the times than Joad.

So how does one judge an album of older material that includes three cover songs — the first time he has done this on an album of otherwise original music — and two covers of his own work? High Hopes, lyrically, hits upon all of the familiar Springsteen themes — working class despair, economic dislocation, the meaning of identity and Americanness. “American Skin (41 Shots),” which was written as an homage to Amadou Diallo, the immigrant killed by New York police in 2000, fits here seemlessly, with acknowledgement that race and identity remain central to our lives. It is not just the dead black man who he is mourning in this song — which is all the more powerful in the wake of the Trayvon Martin death and the acquittal of his killer — but the police who pulled the trigger, who stand over the dead body and wonder what happened.

“The Ghost of Tom Joad”‘s reappearance, nearly 18 years after he first put the song on a CD, reminds us that all of the issues that were in play then remain relevant today. I could go song by song, but I think this review from Star Pulse does a good job and I don’t see the point in retracing its steps.

What I find compelling about this album is its sonic palette. Springsteen has not always been known for the sound of his records — aside from Born to Run, though I would argue that the two records that followed offered a distinct sonic sensibility and albums like Magic and Wrecking Ball present different elements of Springsteen’s aural approach.

High Hopes has a massive sound, with Springsteen making use not only of his traditional band, but a big horn section, strings and an array of studio tricks. Tom Morrello’s guitar is a key element here, taking these efforts in new directions for Springsteen, adding an extra edge of nastiness to many of the tracks.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine on Allmusic.com describes the album, quite accurately as an “unkempt collection,” on which “protest songs and workingman’s anthems are surrounded by intimate tunes” — which is quite a distance from the meticulous approach Springsteen usually takes. This meticulousness, of course, has resulted in classics, but has at times (The Ghost of Tom Joad, Tunnel of Love) lessened the potential impact of the songs by making them a little too neat. That is not the case here, as Erlewine says.

Much of this record oscillates between the moody and militant, particularly in the politically charged numbers, which are often colored by percussive guitar squalls

He goes on to make it clear that

these 12 songs don’t cohere into a mood or narrative but after two decades of deliberate, purposeful albums, it’s rather thrilling to hear Springsteen revel in a mess of contradictions.

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Journalism and the powers that be

There is a good piece today on a blog called Dissenting Voice that looks, while reviewing the latest book about the crisis in journalism, at what is one of modern journalism’s greatest failings: It’s obeisance to the conventional wisdom and the existing power structure. Robert Bensen, who teaches journalism at University of Texas at Austin, says that there is an “Ideology Problem” that is “afflicting mainstream news media.” Journalists, he says, “consistently accept two key components of the worldview of the powerful”:

– On economics, the naturalness of corporate capitalism is unchallenged. Issues such as wealth inequality, hunger, and child poverty must be framed as unfortunate problems to be solved by elites’ adjustment of the system, not as an evitable outcome of a pathological system that leaves economic decisions in the hands of a relatively few people.

– On foreign policy, the naturalness of U.S. domination of the world system is unchallenged. Direct U.S. violence and support for the violence of client regimes must be framed as actions that are necessary to maintain order in a chaotic world, not as imperialism designed to expand U.S. power and enrich elites.

These are “foundational questions of economy and nation” that cannot be addressed by ensuring that journalists have more knowledge — one of the basic precepts of Thomas Patterson’s Informing the News, the book being reviewed (I haven’t read the book.), Bensen says. That’s because these questions are not knowledge-based, he says. They are “about values.”

A technocratic journalism that brackets out such basic questions is, by default, a journalism that will be limited in its ability to analyze and critique systems of power because it will not reflect on its own values.

So, we end up with the failures exhibited by the press in the lead up to the Iraq War, in which nearly all mainstream news outlets took at their word Bush administration officials — and the hangers on that make up the permanent foreign policy establishment in Washington — who were itching to fight rather than questioning the information being provided by these so-called experts. This was never a question of knowledge — or the lack thereof — but of method and relationship. He describes the issue this way:

[T]he crucial “source problem” is not that journalists routinely draw on the greater expertise of others, which is inevitable in the practice of daily journalism, but that sources who reflect the views of concentrated wealth and power are, on average, given far more credibility and visibility. That produces a fidelity to ideology, not truth.

As he points out, there were plenty of other sources in the lead up to Iraq who were critical of the rush to war, but the mainstream press kept going to the same tired generals and politicians.

There was a robust anti-war movement, nationally and internationally, which included a wide range of people with extensive expertise on issues of weapons, diplomacy, and Middle East history. The problem was that most journalists reflexively allowed sources with power to define the issue and create the “facts.”

You can see the same thing with the economic meltdown and the collapse of the housing bubble. The press was caught flat-footed because we only heard from people like Alan Greenspan, Robert Rubin and the approved group of economists who kept saying that housing prices would never come down. We rarely heard from people like Dean Baker, a lefty economist who was predicting the collapse as early as 2003.

In many respects, this is just Journalism 101. It is what we teach students about beat coverage — the greatest danger for any beat reporter is that he or she will be co-opted, that the reporter will get too close with sources in power and forget for whom he or she is actually writing. The people in charge become the reporter’s friends, or people the reporter is afraid of offending, so the reporter stops questioning them, starts taking them at their word and dismissing the gadflies and critics floating around.  This goes for the reporter who covers city hall and the police beat, as well as for the reporters in the Statehouse in Trenton — most of whom had seen Christie in action but never bothered to fully connect the dots until now — or in Washington, where reporters have become enamored of their TV appearances and other perks of covering powerful (mostly) men.

But it is more than co-optation by a source. There also is the notion of false balance, a fealty to a misinterpretation of neutrality and fairness that leaves reporters writing “he said, she said” stories on issues like climate change — 99 percent of the scientific community is on one side of this, but we treat deniers as having the same credibility as the rest — or the economy when there really is no balance needed for many of them.

Bensen points to a third issue: the impact of ownership of media — i.e., who owns the press and what kind of constraints, both overt and tacit, that places on reporting.

Overall, if we are to address the shortcomings of American journalism, Bensen writes, we have to own up to this.

[I]deology and ownership are key to understanding how journalism works, and therefore how to start a conversation about the aspects of journalism that don’t work well. Those who believe that capitalism and U.S. imperialism are good things are welcome to argue that, as are those who believe that a corporate-commercial media system produces the most democratic journalism. But these conclusions can simply be assumed or asserted without argument.

He goes on to point out that journalism’s failures are tied to a larger institutional, cultural and ideological failures, which is why this discussion cannot take place “outside a larger discussion of U.S. social, political, and economic dogmas, the failures of which are increasingly apparent.”

Though it is difficult to imagine rethinking the systems and structures of power that have brought us to this point—what would a world beyond capitalism and imperial nation-states look like?—that is the central task of politics, and therefore a central concern of journalism. Though it is difficult, people all over the planet, without the help of knowledge-specialists, are imagining and working to bring that world into being.

This not only will require journalists to start asking more difficult questions, but to reach out beyond the traditional base of sources to whom we turn regularly. And, as Bensen says, it will require more than technocratic effort to know more. It demands from us “reflection on, and a more honest articulation of, values than contemporary mainstream journalism has yet offered the public.”

Our job, as journalists, is not to be stenographers, though there is a need for some of that. It is to be critical interlocutors and observers, to ask hard questions and to make people in power uncomfortable. At our best, we are the institutional voice of the public, the people with the money and time (at least in theory) to dig into matters of public interest and get answers, or at least ask the questions that need to be asked. To do that properly, we need to step down from our perch among the power brokers and return to our roots.

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