InkTank

Have You Multitasked Lately?

It turns out Generation 'Net has added another one to its repertoire for why looking online comes first when doing homework.

Many students no longer sit secluded at the kitchen table or personal desk to do homework. Instead they spend time chatting with friends, checking email and a plethora of other activities while doing homework.

On the washingtonpost.com, Lori Aratani describes the process many high schoolers, and no doubt college students, use to do home work.

    "Over the next half hour, Megan will send about a dozen instant messages discussing the potential for a midweek snow day. She'll take at least one cellphone call, fire off a couple of text messages, scan Weather.com, volunteer to help with a campus cleanup day at James Hubert Blake High School where she is a senior, post some comments on a friend's Facebook page and check out the new pom squad pictures another friend has posted on hers."

Don't forget to add in the work she's doing for her Advance Placement Biology class in the "spare" time between her flurry of activities.

The article pokes at the difficulty parents have in understanding Internet multitasking and problems researchers face in discovering its affects. Of course, with students who boast a GPA of 3.75 or more, it's difficult for anyone to persuade them there is a hint of anything but success in their study methods.

    "I honestly feel like I'm able to accomplish more during an hour if I multitask," said Christine Stoddard, 18, a senior at Yorktown High School in Arlington County. "If it's something like English or history that comes easily to me, then I can easily divide my attention. It's the way I've always been."

I am a part of this multitasking generation. I listen to music, watch YouTube, chat to my friends, check email and Facebook and look for whatever interests me all at the same time.

I can remember times when I've lost an IM and later realized I never replied to that person. Or started an email, only to find it unfinished as I close my computer down at the end of the day. As a matter of fact, I have been checking email and Facebook, listening to music and reading different web sites as I'm writing this post.

Despite close ties, I would like to see better studies on the subject. Where groups of students who normally do homework in isolation are compared with other students who regularly do homework while multitasking on the Internet.

But science is just beginning to study this Internet phenomena and its effect on users.

In the end, many parents feel lost in a youth culture based in websites and software that they have limited exposure to and scientists are left sorting out the kinks that have come with the Internet.

Some of the same problems being examined had to of popped up when TV reached its third or fourth generation of users or when listening to the radio was multitasked with doing the dishes, chores or knitting in a chair.

Are we just paranoid?

Get off the Couch: Part II

Another journalist that I’ve met has utilized Hamil's motto ("a lot of times, you gotta go through your fears" to find the story) throughout his career as a journalist. He's the International Editor and political analyst for United Press International. But he hasn’t built his career by just staying at his desk. He hasn’t gotten his stories without taking leaps.

Claude Salhani shared one of his countless on-the-scene reporting stories with a group of us UPI interns at a recent lunch meeting.

Claude was part of the international press and was covering Gulf War I in the middle East.  The international media is like a pack of wolves—together, they move ahead or sit and wait to see what news story is unfolding, he explained. However, Claude has always gone his own way—“which has worked successfully, so far,” he said, with a grin. Yet, it’s a wonder he’s made it through all his experiences.

Claude knew the U.S.military was heading to Kuwait, and he wasn’t going to merely sit and wait to hear what happened. So, he went to the nearby army general and asked how much it would cost to get a military uniform, and $80 and approximately 2 hours later, he was dressed for the part (in the “chocolate chip, cookie-colored suit). Then, he went and purchased a humvee, and the next morning, went to the city market at dawn and filled his vehicle with as much food/water to last five days—he could barely fit himself in. He even duck-taped the U.S. It was amazing to hear, in person, the account of him driving into Kuwaitwith the troops—liberating the people from Iraq. Claude recalled all the older women who surrounded and hugged him—throwing rice and rose-water at the troops, smothering htem with hugs, kisses and Thank you's!

Claude's account of his stories are summed up in his book Black September to Desert Storm: A Journalist in the Middle East.

Neither Hamil and Claude have gotten where they are today with taking risks and without dreaming bigger than what seemed possible.

It begins with finding the images and then capturing them for the readers. “You gotta have the eye to find the stories,” Hamil said.

Meeting Hamil and Claude and hearing there stories, complete with their doubts, inadequacies, and also successes, has been encouraging for me as a “first-time” journalist just trying to keep afloat. As our world's news and media and ways of journalism continue to change, I hope I never forget the heart of journalism: “the art of capturing people’s behavior.” (from the movie Shattered Glass)

But you can’t get the snapshots without going to the scene, you can't capture people's hearts without getting off your couch or beyond your desk. As I continue to open myself up and trudge past my comfort zones, I am increasingly aware that stories are happening everywhere—and we as even "new-comer" journalists can be the one to capture them.

Hamil and Claude have much in common—both have what Claude told me is the necessity to cover the types of stories he has: “All you need is rat-like cunning and a good suit.”

Duct tape also proves useful.

Get off the couch: PART I

A couple of weeks ago, we students of the WJC had the privilege of listening to powerful words of wisdom from the renowned Washington Post reporter Hamil Harris.

He’s a big guy with a big voice, to say the least.

Harris talked of the fact that we’re sooo surrounded by technology with our i-pods, lap-tops, cell-phones, etc., and though these modern tools are certainly helpful for journalism, “these tools are only a hammer—the house still needs to be built.”

And that’s where our own two hands come in, I think.

But journalism isn’t just talking anymore—it involves walking, too—taking your readers on a journey through the words you write, the pictures you paint, the truths you tell.

Hamil recently helped create the Washington Post on-line journalism series called “Being a Black Man.”

This “exploratory media piece” pushes the envelope of journalism—the way it utilizes text, audio and video makes it a phenomenal result of journalism—in a theatre, performance-style kind of way. The viewer doesn’t even have to leave his couch in order to be brought into jails, clubs, living rooms, and basically wherever the men telling the story were located. And that’s powerful!

But as a reporter, Hamil must leave his couch—and his comfort zone, for that matter—to be successful in his career: “Journalism is about your heart and your vision and what you see.”

In Hamil’s lifetime, he’s seen a lot—including failure, disappointments, hope, and endurance—a roller-coaster combination. But no matter what scenes and locations Hamil has found himself in, trying to cover a story, he never failed to follow this motto: “You hafta’ act like you belong.”  (Even if you have to fake your credentials to get into the places you need to be).

One of the several examples he told about “getting” his story included flying to another state and buying a one day membership pass to a local work-out club where a key sports figure was with “his crew.” Hamil went to Wal Mart, picked up a work-out suit, and went to the club—pretending to work out—but really waiting to talk with the group of people. Needless to say, he “worked it” and was the first to get the story.

Hamil emphasized to us, that, “a lot of times you gotta go through your fears!”

Told ya so!

By Richard Potts, Assistant Director of the Washington Journalism Center

We've mentioned a time or two here at WJC that blogging is a growing force in news.  There's every chance that a young journalist could end up blogging almost right out of the gate in her first gig. 

Case in point:  Here's a link to one of our 2004 students Mimi Perreault (she's on the right in the pic above) and her brand new blog over at the Palm Beach Post.   

"Uptown Gals" was born one day when Mimi asked her bosses why no one was blogging about life in the city.   Her bosses agreed that this was a problem.  And all of a sudden Mimi's blogging about her night working at Sloan's ice cream shop downtown.  I mean, uptown. 

Rush Hour

My roommate and I usually take the bus all the way to school.  This morning, due to the exceptionally cold weather, we decided to forgo the three bus transfers and take the Metro instead, despite being charged the price of a grande mocha at Starbucks.  It was worth it to stay warm. 

Everything was normal.  We hopped on the green line towards Branch Ave to our transfer point to the red line at Chinatown station.  Given that it was 9:15am and Chinatown is a major stop, the platform was crowded with anxious people waiting to go about their day.

The Metro train was, for some reason, slightly delayed which created an uneasy tension amongst the commuters.  One lady, short with stringy gray hair and an ecletic array of clothes screeched, "Train hurry uuuuuppp!!!!"

The scream echoed off the cement ceiling and down the dark metro tunnel.  Everyone fell silent.  A man dressed in a business suit shouted, "Preach it sister!"

Needless to say my roommate moved down the platform to make sure we weren't in same train with screaming lady and preacher man.

Public transportation never disappoints.

Facebook: Website or Addiction?

I remember when my college first got Facebook a few months into my freshmen year. The online site that allows college students to create profiles for themselves through their university network quickly became a campus-wide phenomenon (to read more about Facebook and how it got started, click here).

    I didn't know what the big deal was. I was young and naive and I hadn't caught the "Facebook bug. But, peer pressure and my curiosity got the better of me, and I was soon signing up for a Facebook account.

 

    The process wasn't too terrible. I created a profile by listing the activities I was involved in (my campus newspaper, the Cardinal and Cream), my interests (reading, writing, crocheting, sewing, poetry and my beloved hometown of St. Louis), my favorite music (Bob Dylan, Carole King, Led Zeppelin, Foreigner, etc.) books (The Portable Dorothy Parker, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Outsiders, Franny and Zooey) movies (Dead Poet's Society, Frida, What's Eating Gilbert Grape?), my favorite quote (which changes every so often), my major (journalism), where I'm from (St. Louis), when I'll graduate (2009) and the like.

A few sections I left blank out of fear of divulging too many personal details. I also had a nice question mark in place of my profile picture, since I didn't have a scanner or pictures of myself on my computer at the time. After I completed my profile, I moved on to adding friends

This was when I got hooked. Not only could I add friends from my college, I could also add friends and peruse the profiles of students from various colleges throughout the country. I discovered people from my high school, old neighbors and even a girl I met in my preschool's production of The Little Red Hen. Crazy, right?

But, I loved the simplicity of keeping in touch with old and new friends. I loved hearing about what was going with my best friend at the University of Missouri. I loved discovering the favorite music of the guy who sat next to me in my geometry class in high school. Who needs telephones, letters or e-mail when a person has Facebook? All I had to do was find the particular person I was looking for, peruse their profile and send them a message.

The addicting world of Facebook, however, has several other complex features. Got some photos from a recent family trip to share with friends? Just upload them to your computer and create an online album for your profile. Are you having some deep thoughts you'd like to share with the rest of the world? Simply write a note to post on your profile and share with friends. Hear something in a class or on campus that was incredibly quotable? Just add it to your favorite quotes on your profile.

 

Facebook has also branched outside the world of colleges and universities to invite high school students, businesses and even politicians. Not sure who to vote for in 2008? Check out Hillary Clinton's, Mitt Romney's or Barack Obama's profiles to learn more about their stance on issues and what they support.

 

Be careful, though. Notice how I said the addicting world of Facebook. Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, many a college student has been known to skip class, avoid studying and stay up too late because they were on Facebook.

 

    Facebook hasn't become just a popular website that college students enjoy; it's become a popular website and a part of life for most students. Over the past year, I've noticed many conversations directed by what a person's Facebook profile says or what new feature Facebook offers.

 

    Pictures can't just capture memories anymore. Everyone wants them put on Facebook. People don't just write in their journals. They create notes full of their personal thoughts for their Facebook friends to read. And, don't even get me started on quotes. Anything slightly funny or amusing that is said always gets this response from a dedicated Facebooker, "Hey great quote. I need to put that on my Facebook profile." 

I guess you get the picture. Facebook can be somewhat of a problem for those who have not learned to control their habits. Perhaps this is best illustrated by a situation that occurred at the start of my semester in Washington.

Me:  "Hey, nice to meet you, I'm Sarah and I go to Union University."

Anonymous WJC student:  "Do you have Facebook? Do you want to be my Facebook friend? We should definitely be Facebook friends."

Me: "Um, pardon? I didn't catch your name."

    Don't worry, though, if you find that you have, in fact, experienced one of the above situations. Take comfort in knowing you're not alone. There are several other people across the country that just can't get enough of this unique website.

Young Boy Abducted vs. Britney Spears Meltdown: Britney Wins

Alright, I am seriously irritated.  I was just searching through the news Web sites in my favorites folder and came to CNN's site.  The headlining story is about a 13-year-old boy who was abducted at a bus stop this morning.  A bus stop!  With people watching! 

That upsets me, but it's not what I'm irritated about.

Naturally, after reading about it I turned around to look at the numerous TV screens behind me,  (I'm in my newsroom right now) figuring it would be on all of the major news stations, if not just CNN.  But was it?!  Of course not.

I turned around to find both FoxNews and CNN broadcasting something about the death of Anna Nicole Smith and MSNBC is doing another headline story about Britney Spears--as if we haven't already heard enough about these two "celebrities" anyway.

Is it too much to ask that we stop worrying about some crazy pop singer's nervous breakdown for five minutes to inform the nation about a young boy who has been kidnapped?  Let's ask ourselves this:  What is more important...Britney Spears not having enough self-control to stay in rehab for more than 24 hours at a time, or a young boy who could very well lose his life because some lunatic snatched him away from the bus stop while other children were watching?

And now that I'm all worked up about this, I might as well mention the forum we (the WJCers) attended a couple of weeks ago about the media's involvement (or lack thereof) in the Rwandan Genocide.  The media hardly covered the genocide of nearly 1,000,000 people because they were too worried about O.J. Simpson and his antics.  Today practically the same thing is happening in Darfur.  Personally, I haven't seen one news broadcast on the ongoings in Darfur.  I've probably seen a handful of articles in print.

But what do I see every single day when I search my favorite news Web sites?  Britney shaved her head, Anna Nicole Smith's lover and mother are fighting over her body, Britney is going to have a breakdown.  As we would have said in high school: Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it! 

I've heard speculation that they focus on entertainment and celebrities so often because then people, especially the younger audience, will actually pay attention and watch their news station or read their newspaper.  Then why are thousands of college students  around the country protesting and putting on marches to raise awareness of the conflict in Darfur?

Just because I am in college doesn't mean all I care about is Britney Spears and entertainment and celebrities and all of the glamorous parties they attend.  I'm beginning to think I'm not the only person fed up with the media--especially broadcast media.  I think it's time for the media to seriously rethink what they are focusing their time on.

Today, that 13-year-old boy should be on TV.  Not Britney Spears.  And not Anna Nicole Smith.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  A few minutes after I wrote and posted this, the 13-year-old boy was found.  THEN it was put on the news.  I'm still irritated though.

Cartoon from The Politico.

A shocking stumble into the Metro

The past few weeks have been the coldest of my life.  As a native Californian, weather that descends below 40 degrees is what I would consider freezing. Needless to say, the biting wind s and 8 to 20 degree temperatures of the last three weeks have sent me into culture shock, nearly motivating me to buy a plane ticket and head back to the warmer lands of California. 

But then Mom came to visit, motivating me to get out, brave the cold weather and see the city.

During her four days in Washington, we went to the National Press Club, Georgetown, the Darfur exhibit at the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the National Portrait Gallery, the Museum of Natural History, Arlington National Cemetery and Old Town Alexandria.

The chilling weather was, for the most part, bearable - but there were a few times that I thought I might be near death – once during an encounter with frostbitten toes on a late night walk and again during Sunday’s sudden, thick snow dumping.

These experiences gave me a strange confidence about my ability to trek through extreme weather conditions and tread over the slick, icy sidewalks. Maybe too much confidence.

On the last night of my mom’s visit, we walked to the metro to head back to our hotel, and she went ahead to the platform to check the status of our train as I asked the station manager how to add fare to my SmarTrip card.

After getting his answer, I carelessly bounded down the escalator to catch up with my mom.  Of course I didn’t grab the handrails – I’m a germaphobe.  Of course I didn’t stand on one stair and ride down – what a waste of time!  I mean, I had to wait seven minutes for my train, but why wait to reach the platform?

My wet feet caught the edge of a stair and I tumbled down at least four stairs, forcefully landing on my elbow and butt.  Horrified by my embarrassing fall onto the unsanitary escalator stair, I leapt up and rushed over to sit on the bench with my mom.

“Jana, are you OKAY?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

As I said this, the metro station appeared to grow, shrink and blur, and I became physically aware of only one part of my body – my right elbow.

“You don’t look fine.  Your eyes are dilated. And you’re really pale.”

“Yeah… my arm is kind of throbbing.”

When our train came, I stubbornly insisted that dizziness was no reason to stop us from going home, so Mom stabilized me as we boarded the train despite her desire to notify the station manager of my fall.

We stumbled into the seat closest to the door, and I closed my eyes. And briefly fainted, but I quickly reverted to assuring my mom that I was “totally fine.”

But she knew better than to believe me, and she continued to hold onto my arm all the way back to our hotel. Three days later, I am pleased to report that, after multiple icings, the swelling in my elbow is beginning to go down. 

And thanks to the last few sunny days, I have not bought a ticket home to California.

Speaking "Commissionese"

I never thought I would be interested in local politics. What do commissions mean in the whole scheme of things anyway? They aren't important, right? Wrong! I've come to see, especially in D.C., how crucial it is for citizens to be actively involved in their communities, especially at the grassroots level.

I am interning with Voice of the Hill, a localized paper, this semester. Instead of chasing down senators in the Capitol Building, I sit in a newsroom (ironically not located anywhere near the Hill-an hour bus ride out to the fringe of the District) and make calls regarding all local news.

An important part of coverage of the Hill area is reporting on the ANCs, or Advisory Neighborhood Commissions. So far, I've attended two such meetings. Our coverage area is all of Ward 6, which is a very varied ward. It runs all the way to Chinatown, North to the street across from Gallaudet, East to RFK Stadium and DC General Hospital and the Jail, and South to the Anacostia Waterfront.

For those not in the know of local politics, here's the rundown: the district is split into wards. Each ward has a council member who represents them. Council members (and, often, their press people) are pretty important people in this city, and they are also very difficult to get ahold of at times! The wards are further split into ANCs. There are four in Ward 6. Anyways. These ANCs are further split into SMDs, single member districts, and commission members campaign yearly to represent their SMDs at the commission level.

I've so far been able to go to two meetings, and have observed the passionate debate over whether or not a house 'respects' it's surrounding buildings (because of the historical implications of being in a specific part of town), the talk about a possible H Street single-sales liquor moratorium, and also have heard a bit of talk about the minute details of zoning processes and requirements.

My editor must have seen my eyes glaze over during times when the commissioners went into 'commissionese' and would speak in strings of acronyms like DDOT, DCRM, COC, FOIA, BZA or ABRA, because she nicely wrote out each of those for me on a piece of paper.

What strikes me is that the commissioners are not paid. That is something that is really impressive to me because I think it tells you the level of caring about their neighborhoods, that they dedicate countless hours at meetings, getting to know their constituents, etc.

I kind of think it's sad that a lot of people (generally) tend to not be so passionate about things that go on in commission meetings. Agenda items that affect so many things in cities are passed at that level, yet in some places, particularly where I'm from back home, no one really cares. No one makes it a point to go to commission meetings except the press and the weird people who are superly involved and hardcore about local government. And D.C. has it's share of those too, don't get me wrong. But I think I was wrong in thinking that they don't matter as much as other levels of government. When I get home, I won't go so far as to say I'll hit up every local meeting, but it might not be a bad idea to know what's going on.

So Long, Chief

By Richard Potts, Assistant Director of the Washington Journalism Center

My veins bleed orange and blue. Though they’ve never been my school colors, they might as well be. Growing up in Champaign-Urbana, home to the Fighting Illini, I have developed a sense of pride whenever I see the University of Illinois team mascot, Chief Illiniwek, in passing.

While the 81-year-old campus symbol has always stirred fond memories, following the last men’s basketball home game of the season Wednesday, that’s about all the icon will be -- a memory. Not only will the chief no longer perform at university events, it will cease to be the college’s logo altogether, disappearing from t-shirts, athletic equipment, documents, well you get the point. Talk about an expensive change of face. Literally.

Yes, it’s been a piece of American history since 1926. Yes, several other sports teams and mascots derived from indigenous peoples still exist – the Washington Redskins, Cleveland Indians, Atlanta Braves, Kansas City Chiefs to name a few. But the NCAA is taking away something that means so much to so many simply because of the incessant complaints of a few, labeling Chief Illiniwek as hostile and abusive. What do you call a stadium of 45,000 people cheering his name on in nothing but reverence and admiration?

Native American “activists” argue the latter is belittling and a poor excuse for halftime entertainment. According to the Progressive Resource/Action Cooperative (PRC) ant-Chief website, native peoples’ right to self-determination is undermined “by appropriating sacred aspects of Native political and religious culture.” 

If anything, I’ve gained a deeper respect for the Native American people through Chief Illiniwek. He serves to remind us of where we came from, our ties to the land, our ties to the history of this land and our ties to the future of this land. 

Where does one draw the line in terms of political correctness? Everybody is never going to agree one hundred percent on any topic. For example, the state title of Illinois? Where the heck do you think that word originated from? Should we change that as well? I guess I’ve always thought having a mascot named after you was some sort of honor. Apparently not. To me, it is removing the Chief that is an act of racism, not retaining him. 

A recent article in Sports Illustrated summarized a poll of Native Americans, inquiring whether high school and college teams should stop using Indian nicknames. Eighty-one percent said no. In fact, most did not feel that Indian symbols, mascots, or team names were offensive or demeaning. The Honor the Chief Society states that the current rawhide outfit worn by Chief Illiniwek is authentic. It was sewn by the wife of Frank Fools Crow, elderly chief of the Ogala Sioux tribe of  South Dakota.   The original dance Chief Illiniwek performs was based on Lester Luetwiler’s Eagle Scout studies of Native American customs. 

Multiculturalism is the notion that all cultures are equally valuable and must be preserved. So, how does one preserve a dying tribe? By getting rid of it? It appears political correctness has found a way to thwart both the freedom of expression and popular opinion. 

So long, chief. You’ll be missed.

Submitted by Rachel Buller.