How to Be a Reporter

The summer before my last year of college, I received an email of particular interest.

It was an email from a fellow member of the Nameless Utah College Honors program. It just so happened that she held a position of some importance in the Nameless Utah College newspaper, and she wanted me to write weekly articles for the paper's website.

In the email, she said that she had thought of me because I had "real writing experience."

And I was like, "Real writing experience? Well, I have had an article published in the Neopia Times. Sure, I'll take the gig."

And thus began my stint as a student reporter. Here's what my duties entailed (apart from, you know, writing stuff):

Tracking people down and forcing them to talk to me.

What I would usually do was dig up people's email addresses. I would send them a note asking if we could get together.

Commonly, there would be no response. I only had a week or two to prepare each article, and I had to get three sources for each one, so this inability to contact a source would make me very nervous indeed.

With my deadline drawing near, I would find out where the person I was looking for resided/worked/had their office. Then I would stalk them before, after, and in-between classes as my schedule allowed.

It's funny, because some people would ignore my emails. But once I showed up where they were, they never refused to talk to me.

Whether this was because they were struck with a sudden desire to have their viewpoint conveyed to the student body by an ace reporter or because they viewed me as a sort of Rita Skeeter who would paint them in an unflattering light if they didn't acquiesce, I'll never know.

Boldly going where no student had gone before.

Due to my article assignments, I quickly found myself becoming the Harry Potter of Nameless Utah College. That is, my school experience ceased to consist of only the classrooms, the cafeteria, and the library. To find the information I sought, I found myself venturing into such places as the kitchens, the counseling offices, and the office of campus security.

One week, I received an assignment to write an article about a student dorm that had adopted a Go Green movement. I emailed the RAs with questions, received their responses, and wrote the article. There was one last thing that had to be done: take pictures.

Inside the dorm, no less.

Being a commuter, I had little experience with dorms. The editors of the school paper assured me that I would have no trouble getting into the dorm to take pictures; I wasn't so sure.

I went to the dormitory in question several times over the course of the school week, but the person in charge of deciding whether or not to let in outsiders like me was never at their post in the lobby.

On the last day, I was getting quite desperate. When some resident of the dorm asked me if I'd forgotten my key, I said no, I was actually from the school paper, and would he mind letting me in for a minute to take some pictures?

The dorm resident gestured to the ever-empty desk in the lobby and explained that the person who was supposed to be sitting there usually signed visitors in.

Truthfully, when it comes to rules I'm more like Hermione than Harry, and I really would rather have waited for the desk person. But I'm also more like Hermione when it comes to deadlines. My article was soon due and I had to get pictures, so when the student (only slightly hesitantly) offered to let me into the dorm anyways, I accepted.

And thus I got my pictures, though obtaining them was quite the nerve-wracking experience. I was convinced that someone would see me and know I was an impostor. Or that something would get stolen while I was there and then I would be blamed. Or any number of other things that all would end with me getting in trouble.

To add insult to my fear of injury, the lighting in the dorm was terrible for photography because there were no lights on in the hallways. That's what happens when people Go Green. Although it's beyond me how they get their chlorophyll without light.

Later, the editors asked me to conduct a somewhat bizarre social experiment at another dorm building. But that's a tale for another post.

Taking pictures of everything.

As you no doubt concluded from the earlier points, I had to take the photos accompanying my articles myself. This meant taking pictures of students, professors, buildings, the cafeteria food, Zen gardens, you name it.

I felt rather a fool, walking around snapping pictures. One time, I was taking pictures of the decor in the school cafeteria when one of the food service workers walked up to me with a grin.

FOOD SERVICE WORKER: I saw you taking pictures and I thought to myself, "She must be a blogger!"

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: You have no idea...