At the end of last week I was up at my alma mater for a series of meetings. I serve on an executive alumni committee that provides the college input on a variety of issues. We also try to connect with the students on campus, and on Friday we had a career forum where kids could come talk to us for professional advice.
I figured my table would be empty (given the dismal state of journalism jobs) but it was packed. What struck me was the caliber of these students. One young man had noticed in my bio that I had taught a writing workshop to homeless kids. He asked me about my curriculum for the class. He then told me that he taught a creative writing workshop in Jordan (his home country) and he used the tuition he charged from that class to pay for a class he taught to homeless kids too.
Another student asked for advice on what he might read to improve his writing skills. He said that he had difficulty organizing his thoughts. After I suggested that he study short essays and Op Ed pieces, for examples on how to make a compelling argument in short form, he thanked me profusely. He went on to tell me that it was easy to write in his native Portuguese, and that he could craft papers well writing in French and German, but that English was more challenging.
Sheesh. Let me just say that these two young men were sophomores. Oh, and then there was the young woman who was the Sports Editor of the paper, had interned at CBS, and spoke fluent Chinese. She was going to study in Beijing next year, because while she had mastered between 3000-4000 Chinese characters, she still didn't have a firm grip on the entire 10,000 she needed for complete literacy.
The idea that I had anything of value to impart to these students seemed crazy, though they all professed to be very grateful for my time and thoughts. I only hope someday one of them might give me a job.
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