I've been volunteering with a seventh-grade class. I help on history and English assignments, and this week we started working on a class newspaper.
It took some convincing before their teacher supported the idea. She prefers worksheets to stories, multiple-choice to essay. She balked at the prospect of 24 two-page assignments with no uniform organization, much less topic.
Thankfully, she's slave to a merciless nicotine addiction. I emphasized the two half-hour news meetings I would oversee each day. One morning, the other afternoon.
\You wouldn't have to be there for those,"" I said. ""We'd just be going over the AP stylebook, talking journalism, stuff like that.""
""Lou,"" she said, flicking her Zippo open and closed against her thigh. ""I think we can make this happen.""
At 10:30 the next morning, I called the first news meeting to order and appointed myself editor in chief. I also announced Nick the redheaded kid's position as managing editor, and smart, angry girl Karen as editorial page editor.
Karen hates every person in the class. I once heard it said that editorial work is a matter of isms. I have no idea if this is true, particularly since the person could only list one ism, cynicism, before screwing up and saying sarcasm.
But, to take the larger lesson from that anecdote, Karen is qualified. I assigned Micah, the quiet kid, to write the obituary for Elmore the frog, the class pet who last week lost his courageous battle with captivity.
I turned to the rest of the class. These would be the reporters.
""OK,"" I said. ""Pitch me some story ideas.""
I knew ol' Sandy ""Pigtails and Hand-raise"" McCallahan would try and talk first, so I immediately called on Carlos, though he hadn't signaled a desire to talk. He always has good answers, especially to unexpected questions.
""There aren't any doors on the stalls in the boys' bathroom,"" Carlos said.
""Excellent,"" I said. ""Very timely topic. You probably want to get at least a vice-principal's comment, maybe even somebody from the school board."" He noted this carefully on some wide-rule paper.
""No cameras on this one,"" I said. ""That could get us into all kinds of legal limbo. Everybody got that?"" The class nodded.
""Good,"" I said. ""Other ideas?""
There was no way to further delay Sandy. I plugged one ear and pointed at her.
""I think we should all do a story about people we love,"" she screeched. Her voice was like barbed wire on chalkboard. ""I would write about my grandparents.""
""Yeah, we'll keep that one in mind, Sandy,"" I said. ""OK, anybody else?""
The concept of writing about whatever they wanted was clearly a foreign one. After a minute, one kid raised his hand.
""I have to take my Ritalin,"" he said. ""Can I go to the nurse's office?""
I was quite unhappy with the way the first news meeting was going. But the kid's non-sequitur sparked a story idea.
""Here,"" I said, handing him a hall pass. ""While you're there, try and score some Extra Strength Tylenol. That nurse hands them out like Pez. We're gonna blow this story wide open.""
