Receiving a Diploma Behind Bars

The actual accomplishment of receiving a high school diploma wasn't that big of a deal to me. It was just something I had to do. The day I completed high school and was given that piece of paper of completion was just another step closer to moving out of my mom's house and gaining freedom. At least that's what it was for me in my mind.

The inmates in Purgatory Correctional Facility have the opportunity to get a high school diploma or GED. Many of them take advantage of the adult education, and earlier this week I got to watch several men and one woman stand proudly in their caps and gowns as they received their high school diplomas.

Some of them were 18 years old. One man was 37. It didn't matter the age, each one was proud to pull the tassle from the right over to the left and be an official high school graduate.

While I was in the jail listening to the inmates' stories I couldn't help but respect their accomplishment and realize that a high school diploma or GED means much more than just a piece of paper or a means to get of your parents' house. Each one of those inmates worked hard to receive their diploma and they proudly received it.

Whether we realize it or not, a high school diploma or GED is the gateway to higher education. In most cases we can't move forward without accomplishing one of those.

Some of the people I talked to in jail that day have already had a lifetime of experience. They know how to work. But for one reason or another life's circumstances brought them to jail. One man said he'd been in jail 20 years of his life. But now they are making a change. They resolved to do something positive and do more than what they have done.

There's only one word I can think of when I think of these inmates, and that's respect. Some of them will still be in jail for another year and some don't know if they'll get out; they still might be institutionalized. It doesn't matter though. They've done something positive with their lives and it's another step forward.

Photo provided by Jud Burkett.

To Err is Human

To be a journalist, it takes more than having a love of writing and talking to interesting people. With all the ups, like with any profession, there are some downs. Keep in mind, I love my job. I

wouldn't trade it for anything. That doesn't mean there aren't days I don't want to tear my eyes out.

For some reason if you're a journalist, I have found, the public doesn't think you're human. It's probably because all they see is a name and a story. So since they don't think you're human, people can't BELIEVE when you make an error.

STOP THE PRESS! We have a journalist who's human and makes mistakes? That's front page news if you ask me.

I vent this to you because I want to write for the record that I am human and the past couple days at work have been horrendous because I made mistakes that I let slip through my fingers.

I wrote a story about a city's budget and how the community center they built is $1 million in a deficit. I misquoted the city manager in regard to the city budget general fund and the role it played with the community center. I don't really have an explanation for my mistake except I didn't read the story before I
sent it off to be copy-edited. When the assistant to city manager called me and related the mistake to me, I apologized and told her I would make a correction. Of course I got nothing but a condescending attitude from her. Why do people who are employed by cities think
they're so much better? And why do they think and expect me to be perfect?

Of course I know journalists are held to a higher standard of accuracy, but when mistakes do happen. When they do, is it really necessary to be condescending and rude? Really?

There were a couple other indiscretions this week that hit the stands. They were small, but big enough to aggravate the public. As a journalist you have to learn to let the meanness of people just roll off your back, because if you hold on to it, you'll never be productive.

The Fight Against Domestic Violence

While working on the public safety beat I found there were certain topics I really enjoyed writing about. One of the many was domestic violence.

Of course domestic violence isn't a necessarily uplifting topic, and usually the stories that go with that subject are horrifying and sad. That's not why I liked writing about it.

When I wrote about domestic violence it made me feel in a small way I was providing justice to the victims and punishing the perpetrators. By bringing the shameful crime out from behind its closed doors and bringing it to paper and ink I felt I was doing something good, providing a service no police officer could. I was, at least I hoped, educating masses about the ugliness of domestic violence.

Anyway, since I've been off the public safety beat I haven't had to deal with the monsters of society, which to be honest is kind of nice. But I have to confess I do sometimes miss the blackness.

On Tuesday I was at a work session for city council. Two women approached the council entreating them to support them in obtaining a grant to get 24 apartments in able to house women and their children who were victims of domestic violence. I was amazed to see the overwhelming support of the council, and so were the two women. I wrote a story about the request which ran in today's paper.

It always amazes me the power, conviction and passion women have, especially when it comes to fighting against domestic violence. It also astounds me the number of people who turn a blind eye to the issue.

I hope these two women can get their apartments for their cause. More people like them are needed in the war against domestic violence.

Graduations

The past three days I've been doing nothing but attending graduations. There are seven high schools in our school district and we had to divide that up between four reporters. Lucky me, I got to cover three of them.

After attending so many of these commencements it really starts to get boring, but yesterday I had the chance to cover the graduation of the alternative high school in our county. You know, the school where people throw the "unmanageable kids."

That's all a crock. Those 70 kids who graduated Thursday night are amazing. They are truly worthy to wear those caps and gowns, worthy to accept those diplomas and ready to move into the next stage of their lives.

It's true each one of those graduates has his or her own story; their struggles they had to overcome. One girl was nine-months pregnant when she accepted her diploma. One graduate started with only 10 credits. Another graduate said she will be the first in her family to ever graduate.

These graduates fought for their education. They didn't skate through it. These graduates have had to deal with the struggles that were placed before them or that they've placed before themselves, and turned out on top.

I have a story about this graduation on The Spectrum's Web site and a blog about graduations.
Photo was taken by Christopher Onstott.

Pseudo Bomb/Terrorist Threat

There was a pseudo bomb/terrorist threat made against a nice hotel here in town a couple days ago. Since it is my job to find out what happened, I called the hotel and asked for the general manager. After Mr. Manager gave his statement, he paused and then asked me the most ridiculous question. "This isn't going in the paper is it?"

I have been asked this question many times. What I don't understand is, when people know they're talking to a reporter about a specific event, why else would we want all the details? Maybe to feed our sick need of wanting to know? Maybe it's because we have nothing to write about and we just call people to get information and not write about it. COME ON!

But that wasn't even the best part of all of this. Since this was a "touchy subject" being a pseudo bomb/terrorist threat and all, and since this was a nice hotel, Mr. Manager put me on speaker so a woman could tell me that I'm "not allowed to write about this."

"Excuse me?" Was my reply. I sternly informed this woman she couldn't give or not give permission for me to write my story. It's public record and if she wanted an accurate story she better let me use Mr. Manager's comments.

In the end Mr. Manager spoke to my editor and I got my comments for a my brief. Sometimes you have to jump through a lot hoops to get a story. Sometimes they're necessary, sometimes they're not. This time they were absolutely ridiculous.

What Do Women REALLY Want?

So for probably the third time now I've covered this event called the What Women Want Expo. I guess I wouldn't mind covering it so much except it's put on by the newspaper that I work for as a moneymaker. I feel, in a way, dirty every time I go, come back and write a story that is totally PR.

Like I said, dirty.

Anyway, although this expo is a moneymaker, it has some cool things and to the company's credit; it does try to give back to the community. Yet I had a problem because I would say a lot of the booths were just jewelry. It was a variety of jewelry but still, just jewelry. Honestly, do women really only want look for the bling when they shop?

Next to the bling of course were the smelly good lotions and of course all the booths dedicated to beauty.

Then we had the booths that really made me mad; the vendors advertising cleaning products like mops, vacuums and such. Who let those guys in?! I thought the expo was for women, not men. I felt I had stepped back a few decades into the 1950s.

However, my favorite booth was a vendor advertising obedience training for dogs. I thought that was pretty awesome. If anything, every woman needs a well-behaved pet, because God certainly knows us ladies can't get our men trained to do even simple tricks - but I'm sure they feel the same about us.

Anyway, my award-winning story on What Women Want will be on line tomorrow.

The Randomness at City Council

I walked into the city council chambers this evening to find the chambers nearly empty and all the council members staring at me. I must admit I felt slightly awkward.

We progressed into small talk and the reason for the stare-down unfolded, they were unhappy with the coverage (or lack thereof) during the city's week-long celebration of its founding.

"I could go into a long dissertation as to why I didn't come out, " replied with a certain about of sarcasm. "I could tell you it's because I'm stretched too thin, I cover the college, the school district and dabble in the police beat."

What's a girl to do?

After a few of the council members had their fun watching watching me be uncomfortable, one of them decided to come down from the high chair and mic, and share a piece of her life with me.

I must say this was a bit strange, to see the city councilwoman turn into proud grandma minutes before the meeting, then back to councilwoman.

Talk about random.

Anyway, the councilwoman felt compelled to show five or six photos of her 5-year-old granddaughter dressed in an elaborate costume for a "twinkle-toe recital."

The kid was cute, and it was fun to see the councilwoman so proud.

Just before I thought the meeting couldn't get any more random, the city manager decided to try and make me feel guilty.

"You have my cell phone number, I need yours. Alyson gave me hers and Rachel before that," he said.

I hate when people try to guilt me into doing things, even in jest. So his remarks invoked a bit of a defiant response.

"You're trying to guilt me, sorry, it's not working."

Well, the mayor finally decided to start the meeting, 5:30 p.m. on the dot. And of course one of the first things from his lips is some award the city received.

Can you believe they award people with ingenuity in logos? I figured that was more for advertisers, but apparently this city struck the fancy of the state, along with its logo.

By the end of the meeting I was ready to go back to my office and write a riveting story on the city council, and council members wandered off into executive session. It's definitely on of the more random meetings I've been in.

And yes, we all exchanged cell phone numbers.