One common complaint that I field in my journalism classes is that students have difficulty finding sources for stories. “So-and-so won’t talk to me because I’m not a ‘real’ reporter” or “I sent three e-mails, but I never heard back” is what I typically hear. My first response: You ARE a real reporter, so act as if. My second response: Pick up the phone. Don’t rely on e-mail. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Blog/Sample Work
Diary of a Wimpy Mom
A few evenings ago I took my 9 and 11-year old to see a screening of the “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” The movie was quite entertaining with more than a fair share of references to boogers, moldy cheese and bathroom bombs. What made me laugh the most, though, was the chaotic household of this “wimpy” kid. He and his older brother defined sibling rivalry. They physically fought, verbally tortured each other and pranked one another constantly. At one point, one brother even peed on the other in retaliation. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
‘Grown-Up’ Journalists
I’m the first to admit that I’m a biased teacher. Just as I think my kids are the best kids ever, I also think that I have the best journalism students ever. I see firsthand how hard they work and the dedication they put into perfecting their craft. I watch them closely in the newsroom as they consult with each other on ethical issues, scramble off to interview sources and torture themselves while writing and re-writing story after story. I’m proud to be a part of the environment, part of their challenges and part of their successes. They never cease to amaze me with their professionalism. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
I Want My Mullet Back
As a 10-year old in the heart of the 80s, proudly sporting the fashionable mullet, life was pretty simple. From what I remember, the only thing that plagued my high-top wearing and neon-clad self was homework and friend woes. However, memories have a way of getting cloudy as we get older and the good times override the bad times in our minds. We induct ourselves into sainthood and wipe away any recollections of mischief. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
On the Road Again as a College Media Adviser
The job of a college media adviser is sticky. Without any control over content or editorial decisions, a media adviser walks a fine line, trying to guide students to practice solid journalism without “taking over” or dominating decisions. I bite my nails on a regular basis, I hold my tongue as much as I can, and I try to keep my facial expressions at bay while pointing out the pros and cons of the decisions and proposals my students make. In the end, though, I trust them to go with their instincts and gut feelings. It is after all, their paper, not mine. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Do You Hear the Words That are Coming Out of My Mouth?
The other morning I was jolted out of bed by the sound of my daughter singing in her room. The sound of her voice was not disconcerting at all – in fact, it was beautiful. It was the lyrics that jolted me after hearing an 11-year old sing about getting “crunk and drunk.” I pulled myself out of bed after I heard: “Before I leave, I’ll brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack.” A few seconds later … “Erbody getting crunk (crunk), Boys try to touch my junk (junk), Gonna sock ‘em if he gettin too drunk (drunk).” Thank you, Ke$ha. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
GLEE-fully Reminiscing
High school was a turbulent time for me. Freshman year, I transferred to a high school where I knew only one person in a sea of 2,000 students. I had to leave my grade school friends and struggle to find my way, and more importantly, myself. As most high schoolers find, it is a time where you have no idea how to act, how to fit in and how to invent yourself. I wasn’t sure where I belonged – I wasn’t an athlete, I wasn’t in a clique, I wasn’t an honor student, I wasn’t a stoner and I wasn’t a cheerleader. I was just an ordinary student wandering around the halls, lost, until I entered the choir room. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Meaty Story or Milky Mess?
I’ve never been one to rush out the night before a “predicted” snow storm and buy up all the milk and bread on the shelves. In fact, I often refuse to go anywhere near the stores when a storm is brewing, especially since I don’t even like milk very much. But, nevertheless, the rush of a “predicted” storm sends people into panic mode. They break out the survival skills and fill the fridge with necessities as if they will be snowed in for days. Snow day panic mode is very similar to a journalist’s or writer’s looming deadline. We know it’s coming sometimes days or weeks before and we know what needs to be done, yet we don’t break out our survival skills until 10 minutes before closing time. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
A Mother’s Intuition: My Kids Know Me the Best
I’ve always heard about and truly do believe in a mother’s intuition. My mother could always tell when something was wrong based on my tone of voice or my facial expressions, no matter how hard I tried to mask the pain or anguish I was feeling. She just knew something wasn’t right. She wasn’t a magician or a superhero – she was a mother. Now that I have two children of my own, I have the same gut feeling in my stomach when my daughter’s voice is low or my son turns his head so I won’t see his expressions. As a mother, you feel what your kids feel. You hurt when your kids hurt. Ironically, though, I think that we underestimate how much intuition our kids have. Children have a keen sense when it comes to someone they care about. Just as I can detect when my son or daughter has had a bad day at school, my children can sense the same from me. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
20,000 Pennies
We all have told a white lie, a fib or even exaggerated events or stories at some points in our lives. We fluff up the drama of a story, we embellish our job descriptions and paint a picture perfect image of ourselves. We call ourselves optical illuminator enhancers instead of window cleaners, underwater ceramics technicians instead of dishwashers, refuse and recyclable material collectors instead of garbage men and freelance writers instead of out-of-work journalists. It’s natural. We all exaggerate in order to prime our egos and feel bigger than who we really are – more accomplished and more successful. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Shannon Philpott-Sanders 