Hi, all. I’m back.
A brief rundown of life since spring:
I don’t live in Kansas City any more. I know, I know—tragic. I miss my dyslexic students and even their off-key versions of “Let it Go” as a diversion tactic. I miss their brilliance and their middle-finger attitude to whatever shaky neurological connection pushes them to switch b with d.
At the risk of sounding obvious, kids are exhausting. I can deal with exhausting, too, as long as that exhaustion comes with some kind of fulfillment. I admire people who can work with children and feel gratified. At the risk of sounding crass, I am not one of those people.
So I moved to Columbia, Mo., where I’m studying for my master’s degree in journalism at the University of Missouri. I also get to spend Tuesdays and Thursdays in Missouri’s capitol, Jefferson City, reporting for the News Tribune.
Here’s the thing: I’m no longer in KC, but I spend my days grinning from ear to ear and bounding from class to class. (Hyperbole? I’ll let you decide.) I’m in my element—I love journalism, I love language, I love writing, and one day, I might even grow to love economic reporting.
During my ye ol’ undergrad years, I studied English and critical theory. Theory was especially fascinating, but the further I progressed with Saussure, Derrida, Baudrillard, the more frustrated I felt. Everything I learned about socioeconomics, race, gender, language—it was all confined to us liberal arts shmucks lucky enough to take out student loans and unlucky enough to be locked in an Ivory Tower.
That’s why I’m reporting. Educate people through the media that they consume every day. Write in the people’s language, not the language of “heretofores,” “antediluvians” or even “oughts.” Spread knowledge, but speak critically.
I’m still exhausted, but this time around, the exhaustion is exhilarating.