As I come ever-closer to the journalism career I have always wanted, new pressures arise which could alter my entire career...
Having just completed my university finals, I now face the gut-wrenching wait for those all important degree results. For me, the pressure is immense, as that final verdict could change my entire career path.
I decided a long time ago that journalism was the only career for me, and I have thrown myself into gaining work experience, at great individual expense. Not only are newspaper work-placements unpaid, but they do not even cover the expenses incurred by enthusiastic would-be journalists, most of whom, like me, are struggling to survive on their student loans and surrounded by a mountain of ever-increasing debt.
This year I have spent a lot of time sending off applications to journalism graduate schemes, NCTJ postgraduate courses and bursaries, and my student railcard has been used to the max travelling to various interviews. At the end of all that, I have now settled on taking up a place as a postgraduate at Sheffield University, on the condition that I gain a 2:1. I also have an interview shortly with the Journalism Diversity Fund panel, comprising of the executive editor of the Financial Times, Glen Oldershaw, head of accreditation at the NCTJ, as well as representatives from The London Paper and the Eastern Daily Press. This is where it gets serious.
My commitment to and passion for journalism are not to be questioned, as I said, this is the only career which appeals to me. But that does not mean I am narrow-minded: journalism itself is a very diverse, exhilarating career and I am keeping my mind firmly open about the different paths my career as a journalist could take. Up until recently, too, my answer to questions such as 'How would you justify cold-calling a family who have recently been bereaved?' have been simple, direct and confident: it is an opportunity for the family to put things in their own words, and the paper is in a sense providing a public service. Over the last couple of weeks however, my solid stance has been somewhat shaken.
At 21 years old, I like to think that my parents now trust my maturity enough to be direct and honest with me about all aspects of life. A few days ago, however, I discovered the media input surrounding my grandmother's death when I was seven years old and it really brought the reality of this question home. It transpires that when my grandmother died, our local paper, who I would unknowingly voluntarily write for thirteen years later, had been somewhat evasive and misleading about the facts in this case. The paper had chosen not to contact the family for their views, and instead printed an article which would lead readers to believe that my grandmother had lived alone, and was not cared for by her family, which was far from the case and caused a great deal of emotional harm.
Whilst this confirms my thoughts about the necessity of allowing the family the right to voice their thoughts, I am fairly confident that had the paper contacted my parents, the phone would have been firmly put down. This now makes me think that this question is somewhat paradoxical. Yes I feel it is important that families be given the chance to present their own views following a bereavement, but at the same time, the harsh timeframe of losing a loved one and then having to publicly speak about it means that often families are unwilling to comment, leaving the paper little choice but to print whatever information they have.
I am learning as I go that journalism is not an easy profession, nor are journalists respected by all members of society. I know that my family will support me in all I do, but knowing now their individual experiences with journalists, it is a bitter pill to swallow. Nothing could ever deter me from this career, and I think better understanding the true effects of journalism will help me to act in the best way possible, and to be the best reporter I possibly can.
Having just completed my university finals, I now face the gut-wrenching wait for those all important degree results. For me, the pressure is immense, as that final verdict could change my entire career path.
I decided a long time ago that journalism was the only career for me, and I have thrown myself into gaining work experience, at great individual expense. Not only are newspaper work-placements unpaid, but they do not even cover the expenses incurred by enthusiastic would-be journalists, most of whom, like me, are struggling to survive on their student loans and surrounded by a mountain of ever-increasing debt.
This year I have spent a lot of time sending off applications to journalism graduate schemes, NCTJ postgraduate courses and bursaries, and my student railcard has been used to the max travelling to various interviews. At the end of all that, I have now settled on taking up a place as a postgraduate at Sheffield University, on the condition that I gain a 2:1. I also have an interview shortly with the Journalism Diversity Fund panel, comprising of the executive editor of the Financial Times, Glen Oldershaw, head of accreditation at the NCTJ, as well as representatives from The London Paper and the Eastern Daily Press. This is where it gets serious.
My commitment to and passion for journalism are not to be questioned, as I said, this is the only career which appeals to me. But that does not mean I am narrow-minded: journalism itself is a very diverse, exhilarating career and I am keeping my mind firmly open about the different paths my career as a journalist could take. Up until recently, too, my answer to questions such as 'How would you justify cold-calling a family who have recently been bereaved?' have been simple, direct and confident: it is an opportunity for the family to put things in their own words, and the paper is in a sense providing a public service. Over the last couple of weeks however, my solid stance has been somewhat shaken.
At 21 years old, I like to think that my parents now trust my maturity enough to be direct and honest with me about all aspects of life. A few days ago, however, I discovered the media input surrounding my grandmother's death when I was seven years old and it really brought the reality of this question home. It transpires that when my grandmother died, our local paper, who I would unknowingly voluntarily write for thirteen years later, had been somewhat evasive and misleading about the facts in this case. The paper had chosen not to contact the family for their views, and instead printed an article which would lead readers to believe that my grandmother had lived alone, and was not cared for by her family, which was far from the case and caused a great deal of emotional harm.
Whilst this confirms my thoughts about the necessity of allowing the family the right to voice their thoughts, I am fairly confident that had the paper contacted my parents, the phone would have been firmly put down. This now makes me think that this question is somewhat paradoxical. Yes I feel it is important that families be given the chance to present their own views following a bereavement, but at the same time, the harsh timeframe of losing a loved one and then having to publicly speak about it means that often families are unwilling to comment, leaving the paper little choice but to print whatever information they have.
I am learning as I go that journalism is not an easy profession, nor are journalists respected by all members of society. I know that my family will support me in all I do, but knowing now their individual experiences with journalists, it is a bitter pill to swallow. Nothing could ever deter me from this career, and I think better understanding the true effects of journalism will help me to act in the best way possible, and to be the best reporter I possibly can.
