I'm really excited to be making this specific blog post because this is the second half of why I finally forced myself into blogging. Yes, the perfection of lifestyle blogging is fun, but it doesn't exactly translate to real life. However, blogging about journalism does.
But, yes. This is the second half of my blogging goals: Talking about journalism, my experiences as a student journalist and to potentially help any future journos find answers to their questions. So here we go, starting with a rough subject: covering a memorial.
On Nov. 15, a mother and daughter, Leslie and Paige Williams, were found in their home in Gainesville, Florida, stabbed to death. Alachua County Sheriff's Department reported that Paige was stabbed at least 30 times. The suspect is husband and father, Paul Williams. Leslie was the librarian and media teacher at Stephen Foster Elementary here in Gainesville; Paige, 15, was a student at Buchholz High School where she loved doing makeup for drama.
There was going to be a memorial held for them at the elementary school on Nov. 29. And I was going to cover it.
I found this story through a source for another story that's also related to the elementary school. She had to reschedule our interview on request of the principal because of the memorial.
"It's going to be crazy," my source told me.
When she mentioned the memorial, I was sitting on the third floor of Weimer Hall at UF, scrambling for two more stories. The semester ends next Wednesday and I still need more clips for my Multimedia Reporting class.
My professor, and editor, was already expecting me for a meeting within the next few minutes. I mentioned this story to him, and he sent me on a wild goose chase (excuse to cliché) to getting the green light.
Now, if anybody has ever at least toured UF's journalism and communications school and has seen the Innovation News Center, there's a certain... professionalism to it. When I step into there, all I want to do is move fast, move efficiently and get shit done. Kind of like how the journalists act in political TV shows when they're walking with and interviewing a politician who's trying to avoid them.
So, I visit my second editor, he tells me the story is a "great little find," and to go ahead and write it.
Here's how the night went:
There were children everywhere. It was held outside at the school and it was freezing. I was already dreading being the reporter at an event to honor somebody who passed away. It was an isolating experience for me. I feared nobody would want to talk to me, but all I wanted to do was honor this woman's life. And I believe I did that in my story.
I didn't know whether or not I should've taken a candle. It would've looked insensitive if I didn't, and I didn't want to draw attention to myself, being the only person without one. So I took it, and later realized it was too much to hold when reporting. It would've looked better to not have a candle then to blow mine out and put it down during the memorial.
Lots of people spoke. Her niece was there, and she spoke. She cried. It was difficult to approach her after the memorial ended because I didn't want to bombard her. At least I got her name and age.
One challenge of the night was to interview the children who spoke. I had taken pictures of them and knew my editors would want their names and grades. But, I chose the nice over the children, and they were gone by the time I spoke to her.
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What I learned from this event was that I had to choose my compassion for human stories over the grit of the journalist story. And that may be a risky thing to say. But it's like how I was taught by Mike Foley in Reporting: You have to sit with your sources, put yourself on their level, for their own comfort.
The niece looked uncomfortable because a lot of people were approaching her. Her aunt and cousin had just been murdered by her uncle. I chose to be a human over being a journalist that night.
Honestly, I wish I had a photographer with me or a co-reporter to capture more names, but I was alone. There were at least 200 people there.
However, the one thing I did remember was: "How are you doing?" rather than "How do you feel?"
Memorials are hard. Sadness is harder. But stories never disappear, so we must tell them for those who don't have the words.
Until next time,
Story : https://www.wuft.org/news/2018/11/30/we-loved-her-more-than-anyone-200-attend-memorial-for-school-librarian/
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