This could be chapter one of my book someday

How I got started on the path to becoming an obscure journalist

My parents knew when I was very young I would be a journalist. This was not so much because they wanted me to become one (what parent dreams of their child becoming a journalist? Criminal defense attorney - maybe. Janitor - possibly. Head cashier at Wal-Mart - conceivably. Democratic presidential nominee - you're pushing it. But journalist? Come on, now).

Mostly they knew because I tattled on my siblings so often. Also, my stories were often made up. These are the true earmarks of an aspiring reporter. My little brother is next in line if all goes well.

So in order not to disappoint them, (not, of course, because it was an easy “A”) I enrolled in journalism class in high school.

My teacher was a great lady. She didn’t teach me much, but she was a great lady nonetheless. During the three years I was in her class – beginning, intermediate and advanced journalism – I learned two things that I can’t get out of my head even now.

I learned the difference between “it’s” and “its” and that the word “lots” should never be used in journalism.

I also learned from other students that if I saved my tests, I could turn them in again the following year since the tests never changed.

I learned how to get information about other students out of the school computer, that I could get my friends out of class “for the newspaper” and that the rent-a-cops wouldn’t bother me after the first few times they saw me leave campus in the middle of class to go produce “the newspaper.”

This was all extremely valuable information. What I didn’t learn included how to write leads, inverted pyramid style, what questions to ask, who to interview, how to copyedit, or really anything relating to actual journalism.

I did learn the definition of “yellow journalism” which at that time meant to sensationalize news for the sake of ratings or sales, but since then has been simplified to mean, “working for a news agency.” Also I learned “muckraking,” which meant, basically, intentionally digging up or making up unpleasant facts about a person in order to paint him or her in an uncomplimentary light, thereby swaying readers’ opinions about said person. This has since been redefined to mean, “working for a news agency.”

In my junior year - my second year of journalism - I managed to get hired at the local newspaper (which was also the contractor that published the school paper) putting together the classified section. I, for one, thought it was insane to hire a 15-year-old high school student to do a job related to the number one source of the newspaper’s income, but thought better of it and didn’t say anything.

With my new, prestigious position at the paper, I was quickly promoted to “production manager” of the school newspaper. This was mainly because I had a key to the newspaper office and my own computer. This resulted in no end of fun for me and a few select students: mainly the editor, assistant editor and art editor of the Senator News, our illustrious educational institution’s publication.

For some reason, our slightly senile teacher never looked at the Senator until it was published. So when the four of us were putting it together on the weekends, (we had time during class designated for this, but we used it to go to McDonalds usually) we pretty much did whatever we wanted.

If there was too much space, Andrew (the aforementioned art editor) would write a poem in the middle of the front page. We’d insert a “word of the day” complete with definition customized to fit our adolescent senses of humor. Inexplicably, the word was always, “decrepit.” Our headlines were totally unrelated to their respective stories, and since they were usually inside jokes, totally unfunny to anyone but us.

For example, a story about the students elected to school government positions for the year would bear the headline, “Why we hate our editor: understanding the plight of the Senator News staff,” And a story about an upcoming dance would be titled, “Four students involved in hypothetical automobile accident.”

Andrew also did comic strips which made absolutely no sense - reason enough for us to find them hilarious.

So when we picked up the stacks of Senators and delivered them to the school, the teacher would look at them and immediately call the four of us into the hall to discuss our behavior.

This only encouraged us as the lecture was by far the funniest part of our day. At some point I think it became the goal of the whole exercise.

Anyway, since high school I’ve matured considerably in the field of journalism. That is to say I do exactly the same things, but with an older group of people.

(Disclaimer: In true journalistic fashion, I made a good deal of that up. But not all of it. That would be unethical.)