An internal investigation by The Athletic found that the relationship between Dianna Russini, its former senior N.F.L. reporter, and Mike Vrabel, the head coach of the New England Patriots, was a “clear violation” of the company’s standards.
In a report released Thursday detailing findings of its monthslong investigation, The Athletic said that the relationship gave the appearance of a conflict of interest and Ms. Russini should have revealed it to the company.
Russini first vigorously defended herself against these allegations, saying everything was taken out of context and she wasn’t going to dignify this non-story with a response.
Dianna Russini’s PR team making it clear that there’s nothing to this story….
RANDOM SIDE NOTE: Can I have her job? According to a story written after the relationship became public, Russini was making bank:
Ms. Russini was not just any reporter. The Athletic paid her an annual salary of close to $800,000, according to a former manager who had knowledge of her salary negotiation. This would have made her one of the highest-paid journalists at the Times Company.
She apparently filed somewhere north of 900 stories during her three years at the publication, along with appearing on podcasts, doing videos and more, so I’m not saying she didn’t work at her job, but damn… At what my kids are telling me they’re making coming out of college, we could staff a decent-sized newsroom out here for what The Athletic was paying the self-described “straight-up MILF.”
HYPOCRISY, THY NAME IS INSIDER: First things first for the journalism kids out there: Don’t have any kind of snuggly relationships of any kind with any source if you are a reporter.
If you somehow managed to find yourself with a potentially risky situation (as I once did in getting engaged to a city council rep, even though I didn’t cover city council as my beat), disclose the relationship ASAP and then figure out if the juice is worth the squeeze depending on the rules of your gig and the level of interest you have in your significant other.
But here’s the one question nobody seems OK with asking at any of these major media outlets:
Was the Vrabel situation worse than anything else “insiders” are doing?
I get that Americans are always going to clutch their pearls when sex-like-stuff becomes public and I know that women (particularly women covering sports) are constantly treated less favorably than men.
But let’s not pretend sports “insiders” are anything more than glorified PR agents that get paid way too much and get away with way more than they should.
The reporters tsk-tsking Russini used footage of this party to show that Vrabel wasn’t present, apparently because he was out “running the offense” with Russini or something. Apparently, it was fine for Glazer to set up a day-drinking session with the people he covers, and no one has tried to put a stop to an event older than the incoming college freshman.
Even without the whole “Oh my stars! She might have touched his manly virtue!” stuff, Russini seemed a bit ethically compromised by the spoils of stardom. She apparently bragged about hanging out with the who’s who of the NFL, and even trying to use a coach to get her out of a speeding ticket.
Other sports reporters, whose livelihoods depend on scoops and staying ahead of the pack, see what the “insiders” do and how well they are treated, so they figure if that’s the game, let’s go play it.
This is why we get more and more “anonymous sources” for less and less important content. It’s why we see more grandstanding and brand building from the “big names” in the media instead of following the same rules everyone else has to. It’s why we see people pushing the edge of the envelope in what is acceptable to cover and how much of a jagwad they feel comfortable being in covering it.
Professional sports loves themselves some PR, and basically, that’s what they get when they pick out their favorite mouthpieces and spoon feed them content they want to have in the public.
So, let’s stop pretending that Glazer, Schefter and dozens of other “reporters” who start every sentence with “The general manager told me exclusively that…” haven’t sold their journalistic souls for heavy bank and easier scoops.
They might not be pulling tongue with a coach in a hot tub, but they’re no less ethically compromised than someone in a romantic relationship with a source.
I normally take a break this time of year, as to get ready for the semester and mourn the end of summer, but this year, my decision on when to call it quits for a while was the result of a funny conversation with my mom.
She called me to tell me that a lady from her old neighborhood had died and that she decided to attend the funeral. Mom had taught four of the woman’s five children over the course of her teaching career and wanted to pay her respects to the family.
Mom said the kids were all grown up and they all remembered her, despite all the time had passed.
“Do you know what question they asked me first?,” she said to me. “‘Do you still have that Corvette? Does it still have the side pipes?”
To be fair, it is a really sweet ride…
She assured them the car was still part of the family. She also noted that she was still substitute teaching.
“Are you still ruling with an iron fist?” she told me they asked.
At that moment, I started thinking about what weird-ass things students will remember about me if they see me years later. It won’t be the “noun-verb-object holy trinity” or the “take a breath and read the lead aloud” suggestion, but instead it’ll be:
“Do you still have a jillion bobbleheads?”
“Are you still telling kids weird stories about that old hockey team?”
“Hey, you’re still bald!”
Thus, it might be time to seriously reconsider truck driving school or something…
In the meantime, I’ll take a couple weeks off and get back with you all in early September.
(This act was like Masterpiece Theater compared to some of the stuff we were watching during Amy’s day of couch arrest…)
Book influencers, vloggers and other folks in the Booktube universe usually post videos this time of year for the annual The Mid Year Freakout Book Tag .
The trend began on social media in 2016, when two Booktube readers decided to look back at their New Year’s reading resolutions to see how far they’ve come and what they’ve read. The “freakout” level is based on the idea that the reader might have said, “I’m going to read 50 books this year” back in January, only to find that as of July 1, they’ve only read 12.
Beyond that, however, the tag includes a series of topics for video podcasters to discuss about what they’ve read to this point and how they feel about it:
Each year, Amy looks forward to this like I look forward to the end of the school year. This year, the weather and wildfire smoke exacerbated her asthma to the point she couldn’t leave the house for a couple days, so she spent a lot of it flipping through the various videos.
She watched every second of some videos while catching only a couple minutes of others before cutting the video short in favor of something else.
The journalism nerd in me, of course, asked her why some of these were non-starters, even as they discussed one of her favorite topics (books) and hit on some of her favorite reads of the summer. In some cases, she said, it was way the video came together, while in other cases it was the content. Still others involved some annoyances she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she knew she had to stop watching before she had a brain aneurysm.
So, in hopes of finding some deeper truths (and keep her laminated to her chair to avoid massive wheezing), I asked if she’d take some notes on things that bothered her when she noticed them. In looking back at the answers, and discussing her broader thoughts on the topic, here are a few things that might help you in doing video (or audio) podcasts.
(ED NOTE: This started to get overly long, I decided to cut it into two parts, with the second portion coming next Thursday.)
GET TO THE POINT: This one came up repeatedly, and it says something about what audiences have come to expect.
“I came here to see your favorite books or your thoughts on (NAME OF BOOK I’VE SINCE FORGOTTEN),” she said. “It shouldn’t take 10 minutes to get me there.”
Keep in mind, my wife has an exceptional attention span, as she reads hardcover books for pleasure that are large enough to kill a small pony. She will watch a multi-season documentary and mull the content. She is the BEST CASE you can hope for from an audience member on any topic, so think about how long and drawn out something has to be to really tick her off.
Now, imagine your audience being the Short-Attention-Span Theater Generation, where watching a whole movie at one time is too mentally taxing for them. There’s no way they’re hanging in there for you to spend 19 minutes thanking your sponsors, your parents and your pets, before veering into a sidebar discussion of why all of your geckos have names that start with the letter Q.
If you have a point, get there and do it in a damned hurry before people leave.
WAY TOO PERSONAL: In a number of cases where people weren’t getting to the point, it was because they decided to be the star of the show to the detriment of the content. I’ve often argued that when it comes to media content, the journalist is like the frame around the painting, not the painting itself. We’re there to help display the things people want to see.
In other words, nobody goes to see the Mona Lisa and says, “Weird looking chick in there, but MAN did you SEE that cool frame?”
A number of the podcasts that Amy cut short involved people telling the audience all about their lives from the moment of egg fertilization until that afternoon, outlining some weird personal drama or otherwise not getting into the content people went there to see.
I was watching one of these with Amy where a podcaster spent FIVE MINUTES outlining why she changed the name of her YouTube channel from one name that didn’t make sense to me to another name that didn’t make sense to me. She was telling the audience, that the first title felt too restrictive in terms of implied content, and that she’s so much more than just a reader… We never did find out what she read or what she liked, as Amy “gonged” that one quickly.
STAND OUT (FOR GOOD REASONS): Amy zapped a couple podcasts in mid-cast, even though they’d seemingly been abiding by her first two “rules.” After about the third one, she muttered, “I heard that already…” Although she didn’t mention this on her list, it became clear to me one of the things a challenge like this can create is repetition that leads to boredom.
When a hashtag challenge becomes a big deal and EVERYONE is doing it, the question becomes, “Why would I watch your video instead of a dozen other people’s videos?” Amy listed a few reasons why she will at least give someone a chance:
They are a known commodity: She favored the people she’d been watching all along and liked, so she went to them first (or stuck with them the longest) when it came to this book challenge.
They pitched something “her style:”She skipped a couple because of the titles and went to others for that same reason. The skips were things about romance novels or other things that would make the Hallmark channel roll its eyes. She went into the ones where headlines promised a look at things she likes (I’m not even going to list them here, as I’m sure I’ll screw this up and get into trouble…). A headline that tells the viewers what they’re getting works well to attract the right viewers and allow the others to make smarter choices.
They seemed novel in some way: I call this the “two-headed chicken” rule. If you are driving down a country highway and see a sign that says, “Two-headed chicken petting zoo. Turn left in 1/2 mile,” it’s a pretty safe bet you’re turning left. When headlines, influencers or other elements of the cast promised something out of the ordinary, Amy gave the video a look.
To make the cut, obviously it’s great to be the big kahuna out there that everyone just watches because you are well known, but beyond that, you need to find a way to provide some sorts of distinctions if you want people to give you a look.
TIME LIMITS: The benefit of online content is that it can be as long or as short as you want it to be. Traditional broadcast was always hamstrung by time limits, so it meant only so many stories could make a newscast or stories had to be kept “tight” on time to allow for more content to make it to air. In these video podcasts, the influencer can do a quick one minute or go on for hours on a topic.
That’s not always a good thing, as Amy pointed out. Several casts she looked at had her pausing after two minutes, checking the time bar across the bottom and then moving on. “There’s no way I’m watching 55 minutes of this,” she said after cutting one video short. In other cases, the videos left her wanting more: “I never found out WHY they liked the book, so how will I know if I should read it?” she said more than once.
In teaching design, I often talk about “size versus value” when it comes to displaying elements. A headshot of a profile subject that runs at a quarter page provides no more value than one that runs at two inches by two inches. Thus, the size is out of proportion to the value. The inverse can also be true, in that running a photo of a daring fire rescue scene at 2 x 2 undermines the value of the photo because people can’t see what’s going on in there. Thus the size undermines the value.
The same thing applies here: If the video is too long, people will likely avoid it or stop watching after a few minutes. (If you happen to be extremely amazingly gifted, maybe you get a pass. The problem is EVERYONE out there seemed to think they were the exception to the rule of “Keep it tight.”) If it’s short, you might get the person to watch one of your videos, but not subscribe or pick up on a couple others for a look.
There doesn’t seem to be a real rule here in terms of what is or isn’t too long. Amy tended to favor 12-15 minute casts on this topic and I’ve seen research that says up to 18 minutes can work. The key thing is that you want the size to reflect the value, so 10 minutes of you thanking your cat for staying out of the video, followed by five minutes of the real content isn’t going to cut it.
(NEXT TIME: OTHER THINGS (ASIDE FROM ME) THAT ANNOYED MY WIFE…)
I spent part of this week catching up with a former student who has a job most of my current students would give multiple limbs to obtain: beat writer for the Green Bay Packers. The view he has of sports, his job and the importance of learning really inspired this post, so I’m hoping I do him justice.
When students around here discuss their desire to enter the world of sports journalism, they tend to focus on a variety of surface-level interests: Getting to cover games, getting to know players, seeing how the league works, publishing columns that offer opinions on the team and so forth.
In teaching sports journalism students over the years, they have often expressed a sense of connectivity to their team as well, much to my chagrin. In presenting the students with a fictional ethics scenario regarding the arrest of a football player from their school, they often declined to publish information about the situation because they say it will “hurt our team.” They’ve also noted that most of their readers would be upset that this story could create problems for “our player” or undercut “our chances” to win.
(In grading these, I’d often push back by asking, “What about your readers who think you’re playing favorites for an athlete in a way you wouldn’t for them?” or “What about your readers who aren’t fans of the team and think you’re picking sides against them?” I rarely got a substantive answer to those questions.)
Other students have complained about having to take on different assignments, such as open records, crime coverage, deep-dives and more. “I’m never going to have to know this stuff,” they’ll say, as they groused about stories that required them to look at the impact of vaccination rates on dorm dwellers, the difference between robbery and burglary or how a budget works.
In discussing this stuff with my former student a bit, he talked about all the random topics he’s had to learn about while covering college and pro sports, which led me to this list of things that can benefit ALL student journalism folks:
BECOME A LIFELONG LEARNER: If there’s one thing I’m REALLY worried about in terms of artificial intelligence, it’s that people will become less interested in learning things. If the AI can do something difficult for you, it’s a lot easier to let that happen and do something less taxing that you enjoy.
One of the things my former student mentioned was how he had to learn how the criminal justice system worked when athletes were accused of crimes. He also had to learn about medical conditions like CTE when former players found themselves dealing with brain damage later in life. He learned how to understand issues related to city construction and planning/zoning while seeing stadiums being discussed or construction projects related to athletics coming to fruition.
In each case, he found himself not only being nosy (a great journalism trait) but interested in learning the key aspects of each area so that he could clearly and fully explain what was going on for his readers. I also got the sense from him that learning those things made him feel more confident in his writing and less likely to become bored with the grind of the “pre-game/game/post-game” story treadmill.
Trying to inspire lifelong learning in some students can be like trying to teach a seal to play the cello, but it’s worth it when it actually pans out. Not only are students more likely to build a better knowledge base from which to write, but they’re also more likely to benefit the readers by going beyond the basics.
EXPLAIN “WHY” MORE: One of the stories he wrote that I still use to this day was from his summer as a sports editor at the student newspaper. As we were preparing for a final issue, an open-records request response came in, dumping dozens of emails on the sports desk that talked about the tension between a coach and the university. I distinctly remember the look on his face when that happened: it was like he’d seen a ghost coming after him with a chainsaw.
We printed off all the emails and started highlighting dates, people and specific chunks of text that ran counter to the standing narrative the U had put out, which was that everything was fine. In the end, he published a great story that really capped the summer nicely.
In chatting about it a little the other day, the former student mentioned how grateful he was that I was working with him on it and how I was explaining not just WHAT we were looking for or writing, but WHY we were doing it. He also was able to see WHY we decided to file that open-records request, as the resulting story showcased how open-record requests could reveal truths that some people had been hiding.
I have found that over time a gap has continued to widen on both ends of my teaching spectrum: I tend to think that things I have taught multiple times have a patently obvious rationale behind them, so explaining “why” seems redundant. Meanwhile, students every year seem to have less and less awareness of the entirety of things around them, thus making them less and less likely to understand why certain things matter the way they do. Each year, I try to recalibrate my end of the deal and lean in harder on explaining the “why,” both because it tends to help them better understand what I’m teaching and because if they understand the “why,” they tend to internalize it and have stronger buy in.
BREAK DOWN THEIR ABSOLUTISM: I don’t know if I’m the only one seeing this, but I’ve noticed that students in more recent semesters tend to either default to “I don’t know” when asked a question or they lock in on an answer and will defend it to the death, even when it’s completely wrong.
I’m not talking about questions like, “Is Donald Trump a good president?” or “Is the food on campus any good?” where strong opinions can emerge. I’m talking about things that are factually right or wrong like “Sylvester Stallone won a Golden Globe award” or “You can’t lose 50 pounds this weekend by eating a special brand of gummies infused with mystic herbs.”
I blame a lot of this on social media, not just because it perpetuates a lot of stupid content that is flat-out wrong, but also because the algorithms and such tend to reward louder, more confident, absolutist idiots. It’s always the “TOTAL PROOF THAT SELENA GOMEZ IS SECRETLY DATING A MARTIAN THAT ONLY AN IDIOT WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND OR SUPPORT!!!!” posts that do better than things with nuance and focus. Everyone is an expert, even though experts are among the most likely people a) not to be yammering on TikTok and b) to tell you that almost nothing is 100% certain.
Over the past few years, I’ve felt like I’m deprogramming ex-cult members in trying to get students to see beyond their self-assured sense of reality as they try to engage in journalism. As much as the recent political and social world has pushed us as journalists to not be objective and balanced, I think we need to actually push harder in that direction in regard to teaching students to report with a balance, but publish based on fact-checked accurate information.
A student once asked how I could do something like this with all the “bad people” in the world. I explained that every interview I did for a story, I tried to keep the door open in my mind to see what that person had to tell me. In some cases, that door was wide open, like when I would interview a fire chief about a fire or when I’d interview a nun about church safety.
In other cases, that door was hard to keep open, even a little crack, but I did it. In one case, I had to interview a guy who claimed to be the Grand Dragon of the Wisconsin KKK about his intent to stage a march on the Capitol for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. All I really wanted to know was if the guy had a parade permit, as it was essential for attempting this act. The door was open a crack with the idea that he might tell me, “Yes, and here’s why a march is protected speech and here’s the inherent value of what we’re doing.” The first six seconds of the interview slammed that door shut when he used words I won’t repeat here, but the point is, even in the most likely scenario in which I could ABSOLUTELY say, “This guy is a chucklehead,” I gave it a shot.
GO WHERE THE STORY TAKES YOU: In talking with the former student, we hit on a piece he did about football and brain damage.
“That was the longest time I ever spent on a story,” he said, noting it took at least a year or so. The funny thing? When he got the initial call from one source about the topic of the NFL denying an old player benefits, he figured the story would take about two days.
A lot of students have a preconceived notion of where they think a story is going to go, which can be a good thing if that’s based on significant research. Still, good stories can have a lot of twists and turns to them, so keeping an open mind (see the above point) can really help those stories develop into what they actually are, as opposed to what we might want them to be. Those stories also tend to benefit the readers more, as they reveal things that they hadn’t previously considered.
(I’m not liking the ninth-anniversary gift options, particularly the idea of leather… Sage can just send me a case of Diet Coke or something… like a case of Diet Coke.)
Every year, I try to take a look back at what we’ve done here on the blog and what it is I’m hoping to do moving forward. Each year, I’m kind of amazed at how little I actually planned to do got done, while simultaneously being amazed at what it is we actually accomplished here.
With the launch of the Exploring Mass Communication textbook, I set up a goal of having Monday be that Mass Com day, Wednesday being that more traditional writing/reporting day and Thursday being a chance to pull a post from years past to give the folks who are new to the blog a chance to see it. That goal went to hell in a speedboat, as a ton of newsworthy stuff tended to find its way into the mix and rarely was I feeling the “mass com” vibe on Mondays as much as I was feeling the “Holy Hell, did you see what happened this weekend?” vibes.
It also came down to the idea of audience-centricity for me. Sure, I want to keep each book fresh and keep the folks nice enough to adopt them happy with new things, but I wasn’t going to rob Peter to pay Paul just because I made up my mind to have a schedule. If I thought, “Hey, a lot of people might be talking about X and might need some help…” well, I went there. If someone asked me, “Could you blog about X, because my students clearly don’t believe me and I’m at a point of taking up a new career in refrigerator sales if I can’t get them to get this concept…” well, that went to the top of the pile as well.
The real reason is that this blog has never been about me. It’s about you and what you need.
That was the deal I set up with the folks at Sage nine years ago or so when they told me I’d be doing this thing. I stuck to the 70-20-10 rule like it was the speed limit in Rosendale, putting out new, audience-centric content 70 percent of the time, reposts that had value 20 percent and book-pimping/personal glory stuff 10 percent of the time (or less.)
I’m still sticking with that, but I can always use your help, so please make sure to let me know what works and what doesn’t. I have never been egotistical enough to think that I know best and people are waiting with bated breath for my latest pontification. Hell, I’m only now able to say “Thank you” when someone says, “Hey, I’m using your book,” as opposed to my traditional responses of, “Oh. I’m sorry…” Tell me what you need and you’ll get it. Tell me how you want it, and I’ll try to make it work.
I’m really going to try to enjoy this year with you all, as I revise Exploring Mass Com, teach a class I’m dubbing “Life 101” and spend some quality time fixing things around the farm.
And Sage? Do I get a set of steak knives or something if I make it to 10 years? Just getting this out there now so you have a year to plan…
Summer weekly schedule starts now. See you all next week.
(Is this just my students or are we seeing an epidemic of this kind of amazement?)
Just a note to say the blog is starting its summer hiatus, starting today. I have enough grading to stun a team of oxen in its tracks, so I’m not free and clear for summer yet, but I figure enough of you all are to make this a good time to hit the pause button.
As is always the case, if something insane happens or someone needs something, I’ll be back live for you all. Otherwise, we’ll probably pick things up in mid-June with the weekly summer schedule.
(More proof that efforts to “coordinate” aren’t always in the best interest of all people…)
THE LEAD: Just when I’m about ready to put up a “Gone Fishin'” post to close up the blog until mid-summer, my university decides to “go there” when it comes to free expression:
Dear Campus Community,
To help streamline media relations coordination and ensure timely, accurate, and consistent responses to media inquiries, University Relations & Communications asks that all media-related requests and outreach be directed to:
This includes requests for interviews, statements, comments, filming, photography, background information, expert sources, or any other university-related media outreach from external news organizations, trade publications, broadcast outlets, podcasts, and student media platforms.
If you are contacted directly by a reporter, producer, editor, student journalist, or media outlet regarding university matters, please relay or forward the inquiry to media@uwosh.edu so our team can coordinate the appropriate response and provide communications support as needed.
Student journalists and student media organizations are also encouraged to send interview requests and media inquiries directly to media@uwosh.edu for coordination and routing to the appropriate university representatives.
CHECKING IN WITH THE ADMIN: I sent a basic note to Anindita (Andy) Anaam, the executive director of university relations and communications asking for some clarification as to if this was a mandate or a set of suggestions or a refresher on what the university’s policy was.
To be fair to Anaam, she literally started here two months ago and wasn’t part of the mess we saw in 2022. The same is true of our current chancellor, Manohar Singh, who has professed an interest in free expression on this campus. With that in mind, I provided her with the context of the previous debacle before asking for clarification:
Right now, it’s unclear to me if what you presented is in the form of a suggestion, as in “If a media person reaches out to you and you’re not the right person, or you don’t feel qualified, please feel free to forward them to our office.” Or is it a “All media relations requests are expected to go through our office, regardless of how you are contacted. Anyone who fails to do so will be chastised and/or reprimanded, and media reps who don’t reach us first will be treated similarly.”
With that in mind can you:
Clarify the intent and approach of this policy, as noted above.
Explain the source (chancellor, you, regents, some PR seminar someone attended once) of this policy
Provide the full policy the university has regarding media contact (a link to the proper part of the website or formal document would be fine)
She responded quickly, but incompletely:
Hi Vince,
Thank you for reaching out and for sharing your thoughts.
Just to clarify, the intent behind the note was simply operational. Our office has been receiving and coordinating a growing number of media-related requests, and we are a bit stretched thin at the moment, so the goal was simply to help streamline communication and coordination where helpful — nothing more than that.
Faculty, staff, and subject matter experts are still absolutely welcome to speak with media, particularly in their areas of expertise. The note was intended more as a coordination effort for requests that may already be routing through our office or involve broader institutional context.
Thank you again for reaching out and for the thoughtful note.
Best,
Andy
DOCTOR OF PAPER HOT TAKE: I am at a loss as to why this sudden interest in “streamlining media requests” showed up in my inbox with less than a week to go before the end of school.
Anaam’s email clarification to me is reassuring, although a broader clarification of the “talk to whomever you want, but we’re here if you need backup” nature would have been appreciated. In thinking about the A-T’s story, I imagine if the expectation is that everything routes through Anaam’s office, I’m guessing she’s not going to be connecting journalists with people who think parts of this place suck.
Also, we’re not getting answers to bullet points two and three. I did follow up and I’ll keep folks posted on what happens with that if I get an answer. I’m sure she has more important things to do than answer my emails, something that can be said safely of most human beings, but definitely of an administrator here.
UPDATE: Anaam wrote me early Tuesday morning and outlined a bit more of what we’re looking at here:
The email was really coming from a day-to-day operational context within University Relations & Communications, which is my office. Due to the increasing number of media-related inquiries and coordination requests coming into our office, along with current capacity realities, some requests have experienced delays in response, so I have been trying to streamline the intake and coordination process a bit more to make sure inquiries are routed appropriately and do not fall through the cracks, whether they are coming from student journalists or external media outlets.
From my perspective, this was more of an operational workflow effort tied to requests already routing through our office/team inboxes rather than a broader university policy framework.
At the moment, I am not aware of a separate, newly adopted formal university-wide media policy connected specifically to this email.
(Good to know. Will keep watching…)
I’m sure FIRE and the Student Press Law Center will be keeping an eye on this, and if there are mandates based on a non-existent-yet-enforced policy, I’m sure someone somewhere will forward them to me.
ACTION ITEM: Given how email tends to be a preferred outreach method of the university, I’d like to request that you take them up on their offer:
Please feel free to email the university affairs folks at media@uwosh.edu if you want to let them know you would like UWO to be as open and transparent as possible. That includes making sure that the faculty, staff and students feel free to speak with whomever they wish in the media, without having to touch base with the PR department.
(A brief-and-yet-way-too-accurate explanation of how IU got into this mess in the first place.)
THE LEAD: Indiana University released its “IU Media School Task Force Report” late last week after a five-month process of determining how best to preserve student journalists’ rights while providing the various media outlets with governance and financial support.
CATCHING UP WITH THIS DISASTERBACLE: After Rodenbush was fired, he filed a wrongful termination suit against the university. As that was unfolding, the students at the IDS were prohibited from printing a paper for homecoming, as the university didn’t want any news in it because, God forbid, the alumni returning for homecoming might think something unpleasant might actually occur in Bloomington.
More recently, things have turned around for Rodenbush, as he got a professorial gig at Western Kentucky University:
I have no idea what this is in the photo, but I pray its a mascot of some kind for WKU or a melting wax statue of IU Dean David Tolchinsky performing his “Stayin’ Alive” dance.
DOCTOR OF PAPER HOT TAKE: I was recently told I’d been getting overly long in my posts, so let’s keep this one short:
The report talks a good game, but let’s see what the media school does in its “refine and implement” stage. We’ve got a long, documentedhistory of the administration here being somewhere between “completely inept” and “ignorantly nefarious” when it comes to student media. I tend to believe that the proof in the pudding is in the eating and IU’s media school brain trust has been serving up a lot of syrup of ipecac pudding lately.
Even if this whole thing comes out as fine as wine going forward, it doesn’t undo the damage done to the people involved here. Jim Rodenbush lost a job, an income and probably a lot of sleep as a result of this. His life was upended because of this, and just because we media folks know he’s a hero, it doesn’t mean this is OK. The staff at the IDS had to fight a fight they weren’t supposed to be in, all while doing the paper and school, which is more than plenty to cause burnout. Advertisers got shook, distribution people had to consider the impact of this and more. Fixing the future doesn’t un-mess the past.
The administration of the IU Media School needs to be held to account for every ham-handed thing they’ve done to this point involving student media. We were talking about the concept of “actual malice” today in class, in which people are held to account for libel when they know they’re doing something wrong and yet they do it anyway. I can’t think of a more apropos term to describe what’s been going on here in regard to the administrative action as it relates to the IDS.
If you are in driver’s seat, you get the ticket for driving recklessly. Same basic concept applies here. Everyone on EARTH seemed to be telling these people, “Stop. What you’re doing here is wrong” and they didn’t seem to really care. If we don’t want to have another mess like this one, IU needs to mete out some punitive measures to make them care about the results of their actions.
Arizona State University soft launched a web app earlier this month that allows anyone, for $5 per month, to create an apparently unlimited number of customized “learning modules” using artificial intelligence. The AI chatbot, called Atom, uses online instructional materials from ASU professors to create a course that’s tailored to the goals, interests and skill level of the user. After asking a handful of questions and processing for about five minutes, Atom debuts a personalized course that includes readings, quizzes and videos from a half dozen experts at ASU.
But several professors whose content Atom pulls from were surprised to learn that their materials—including video lectures, slide decks and online assignments—were being perused, clipped and repackaged for these short online course modules. The faculty wasn’t told anything about the app, ASU Atomic, they said.
(SIDE NOTE: I so DESPERATELY want to use a video clip here from “Ted 2” that smack talks Arizona State right now, given how stupid this situation is, but I think the editors at Sage might pop a brain bleed. The tamest thing said in that exchange was, “Do you say Arizona State University or just HPV-U?” Anyway… I digress…)
BACKGROUND: The university is doing everything to both say that tapping the braintrust of the faculty through this AI thing is the greatest thing on earth while also telling faculty this is just experimental and there’s no real concern here.
As with most things administrators SWEAR aren’t problems, the faculty members refuse to buy this bull-pucky:
As is the case for many AI chatbots still in their infancy, Atom gets things wrong. In the module it designed for Hanlon, it included clips from an old lecture he gave focused on the work and career of 20th-century literary theorist Cleanth Brooks. Throughout the course it called the critic “Client” Brooks.
<SNIP>
Ostling is worried that Atomic “will start being used widely, and I have content on my Canvas shelves that would be very inappropriate to show up without context in a course,” he said. “Not only do I think the students will be poorly served because they might learn things that aren’t true, but it could potentially get me in trouble.”
I’m feeling this as well, given that I often have students interview other students for classroom-only exercises that get posted to Canvas. So, for example, a student talking about their experience at the local Pub Crawl might not be all that thrilled if that info becomes part of a database of content for everyone to see.
Even more, I have to occasionally create “alternative timeline scenarios” for the students. For example, to have my students write an “announcement press release,” I make up the scenario that our current chancellor resigned a while back, the university did a search and today is announcing the hiring of the next chancellor. It’s a logical scenario that would be something students might be expected to do as PR practitioners (hiring news release) and it forces them to focus on what to include in a short space.
However, I obviously have made up the name of the person we hired as well as that person’s background and accomplishments. If AI slurps it up and treats it as gospel, that’s not going to be good for anyone involved.
This all led me to today’s throwback post about our system trying to steal faculty content for what I would assume could be a situation like this. Even if the Universities of Wisconsin folks double-pinky promise not to turn my work into AI slop, I still don’t want them co-opting my life’s work for all the reasons listed below.
I did a check on how this is going and the board of regents hasn’t passed this yet, but I’m always leery of summer months, as that’s a great time for universities to pass these “take out the trash” bills, because nobody’s looking.
The Universities of Wisconsin System is trying to steal faculty’s copyright rights to educational material. Please help fight this stupid power grab.
(The system says, “We would never look to diminish your rights or take your hard-earned work away from you.” What the system actually does is more accurately depicted in the scene above.)
THE LONGER, MORE NUANCED VERSION: Here’s a deep dive on the way the system is trying to recreate its copyright policy in a way that disenfranchises its faculty:
The UW System is proposing a new copyright policy that professors say would eliminate faculty ownership of instructional materials. The revisions are stoking alarm among professors statewide who say such a move would cheapen higher education into a mass-produced commodity.
“This policy change is nothing less than a drastic redefinition of the employment contract, one that represents a massive seizing of our intellectual property on a grand scale,” professors from nine of the 13 UW campuses wrote in a recent letter to UW System President Jay Rothman. “It would allow any UW campuses to fire any employee and nonetheless continue teaching their courses in perpetuity with no obligation to continue paying the employee for their work.”
Aside from owning faculty syllabi, lecture notes and exam materials, UW would also have ownership rights over the scholarship faculty create:
A draft of the new policy, obtained by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, would eliminate existing copyright language and replace it with the assertion that UW System holds ownership of both “institutional work” and “scholarly work.”
<SNIP>
“Scholarly work” includes most of what professors produce, such as lecture notes, course materials, journal articles and books. The UW System transfers copyright ownership to the author, as is customary in higher education, but notes that it “reserves” the right to use the works for purposes “consistent with its educational mission and academic norms.”
DOCTOR OF PAPER HOT TAKE: Given that I’ve got about a dozen textbooks in the field, I edit a journal that needs scholarly work to keep it running, I spent seven years crafting hundreds of blog posts and that I’ve built a ton of courses over my nearly 30 years of teaching, this was basically my calm, metered reaction:
I’ve already sent a copy of the proposal to Sage for its team of lawyers to go over, so I’m hopeful that I receive an answer along the lines of, “Calm down… Have a Diet Coke… This isn’t going to destroy what you’ve spent decades creating…”
In the meantime, let’s lay out how stupid and problematic this is:
The quality of your courses depend on the people you’re pissing off: We essentially went through this in my media-writing class today and a collection of sophomores and juniors understood it, so I’m hoping it might make sense to the Board of Regents.
I proposed the following scenario to one kid in the class: Let’s say you turned in a really good story as an assignment for this class. In fact, I thought it was so good, I took your name off of it, put my name on it and submitted it to the local paper. The paper then paid me $50 for the story.
I then asked the kid, “So, given that every time you turn in something good, I’m going to take it, put my name on it and make money from it, how likely are you to put forth your best effort in this class?”
The kid said, “There’s no way I’m going to do anything good for you anymore.”
Right. So, let’s play that out here: If every time I work REALLY hard on making good stuff for my class, the U is just going to claim it as its own, why would I bother to do anything more than the bare minimum to make my class work?
I guess you could make the argument that pride in our work and a desire to make things better for our students could inspire us to do great things, even in the face of a naked power grab by the system, but if you’re going to treat us like mercenaries, we’re going to behave that way.
This will stifle innovation, limit interest in developing new courses and create a general sense of animosity among faculty. It will also likely inspire professors to find new ways to hide stuff from the administration folks, as one person on social media suggested to me:
This stuff isn’t a product, but rather a process: Inherent to the system’s argument is the basic premise of work product: You built this stuff while you were employed by us and required to do so. Therefore, since we paid you for this, the stuff is ours.
That works in the private sector, where we’re tasked with specific outcomes and granted special provisions to create this kind of work product. For example, I know that when I worked at the Wisconsin State Journal, I wrote a lot of articles that the paper published. Implicit in my employment agreement was the premise that I was acting on behalf of the paper, writing things that the paper tasked me to write and publishing those things in a copyrighted publication. They own that stuff and I’m cool with that. I don’t think I’m ever going to want to republish a weather story I wrote in 1996, and if I did something cool I wanted to show my students, that’s acceptable use.
However, when it comes to my media-writing class, I didn’t get hired to write lecture notes and syllabi for that class. In fact, what I wrote was a tweaked version of something I’d been working on for decades. I’d drafted some of this conceptual stuff when I was working at UW-Madison, improved upon it when I was at Mizzou, reconfigured it at Ball State and then adapted it here. This isn’t like you hired me to bake a cake for your birthday. This is a tree I’ve been growing and tending for years and years.
The material might not be UW’s to steal: Even if you don’t buy the argument above, the instructors might not own the material they’re using in the first place.
Textbook publishers aren’t just sending out desk copies of a dead-tree books and telling fledgling professors, “Vaya con Dios.” They actually build a ton of back-end stuff into the educational packages they provide these days, which includes a lot of the stuff the system is trying to get its grubby little paws on.
I know for my books at Sage, we have sample syllabi, PowerPoint slides for lectures, notes for instructors, exercises and test banks crammed with questions. I might even be forgetting some of the stuff we provide.
(Shameless Plug: Sage really is amazing when it comes to this kind of stuff. If you ever need a book, check these folks out first, especially if you need some help with the shaping and molding of the entire class experience.)
These things are available to instructors because Sage built them to go along with the authors’ textbooks. The professors can use them as they are, add stuff, cut stuff or otherwise tweak what they receive. That said, it’s not theirs to sell or give away. Sage holds the copyright for this stuff and I imagine Sage and the other book publishers who pour a ton of time and resources into building these things would be more than a bit peeved if the UW System tried to claim it as its own.
The Coy and Vance Duke Theory of Education: When I was a kid, I loved “The Dukes of Hazzard” television show, which ran every Friday for about seven or eight years. The show involved two cousins, Bo and Luke Duke, getting into scrapes with the corrupt law enforcement of Hazzard County and doing amazing car chases in their 1969 Dodge Charger. Along with patriarch Uncle Jesse Duke and the lovely cousin Daisy Duke, the boys were “makin’ their way, the only way they know how,” to quote the theme song.
It was a simple show that drew a good audience and it seemed to work well. However, around the fifth season, John Schneider and Tom Wopat (who played Bo and Luke, respectively) got into a contract dispute with the studio over salaries. Rather than pay them and move on with life, the studio had the idea in its head that the car (the General Lee) was actually the star of the show, so it didn’t matter who was driving it and that they didn’t need these two pretty boys at all.
If ever there was a knock-off of a brand name, this was it. Like the original Duke Boys, one was blonde, one was brunette. They essentially wore the same wardrobe, had the same catch phrases and did the same insane driving stuff. That said, the ratings took a dump and after one season, Bo and Luke “returned from driving the NASCAR circuit” and Coy and Vance ended up fading from memory.
What the universities are doing here is essentially the same kind of thing. They figure, “Well, hell, if we have the notes, the syllabus and the PowerPoint slides, we don’t really need the professor who created them at the front of the room.” These folks assume that once we decide to leave, retire or whatever, they can just plug in an adjunct at a fraction of the cost and things will run like a Swiss watch. And that’s not just me being paranoid, as other folks see it as well:
I pretty much know my notes aren’t going to be helpful to other people as I wrote them based on a lot of my experiences in the field. Notes like (BUS FIRE STORY GOES HERE) or (EXPLAIN DRUG DEALER SHOT THING) probably won’t work for a random Coy or Vance they bring in to teach my class after they decide they don’t need me anymore.
HERE’S WHY YOU SHOULD CARE: One of the biggest reasons I’m worried about this is because it impacts what I can do with my materials. That’s also the main reason why I think you should care about it, too.
I never took this job to get rich and I certainly don’t like the idea of coming across like Daffy Duck when he found the treasure room:
However, when I know stuff is mine to do with as I please, that tends to benefit a lot of other people as well. Whenever someone shoots me an email and says, “Hey, how do you organize your class?” I’m always happy to give them a copy of my syllabus. When someone needs an assignment I’ve built, I’m glad to share it with them or on the blog.
When we went into COVID lock down, I basically dumped everything I ever did that I thought would help people into the Corona Hotline section of the blog for free. All those goodies remain there to this day, so feel free to help yourself.
If this policy passes, I might not be as free to offer that kind of generosity any more, and that would really tick me off.
(Depending on your view, the senior goodbye columns that tend to populate student newspapers this time of year are fine or an abomination against the basic tenets of journalism. Or, in some cases, both.)
One of the best resources online for student media stuff, student journalism and generally keeping up with anything related to journalism at the college level is Barbara Allen’s College Journalism Newsletter.
(Thanks to some recent sponsorship, she’s taken down the paywall, but as a continuing paying customer, I have to say, I get far more out of her wisdom than I pay for.)
I always have a complicated reaction when I read them, but this semester, something finally became clear.
The curmudgeon in me: “What value do these columns have to the community or audiences?” The momma bear: “What’s the harm in these hardworking students finally just having a few column inches of fun?”
What finally struck me this year has been hiding in plain sight all along: These columns provide incredible insights into precisely why students value student media.
<SNIP>
My call to action for you this week, whether you’re running a student newsroom or lecturing to classrooms or running an entire journalism department: What about your student media program is revealed when you read between the lines of these student farewell columns? And how can you synthesize that information for future recruitment, talking points, mentoring and classroom lessons?
I’ll get to that last paragraph in a subsequent post, but today I wanted to commiserate a bit with Allen over her “maybe yes/maybe no” vibe when it comes to these kinds of things.
I also want to offer your students a chance to kick my ass all over the place.
Personally, I have no problem with these “goodbye” columns. The students who write them work for little to no money, work way too many hours not to be in violation of some sort of forced servitude law, get constantly beaten up in the world of public opinion for minor errors and generally have a decent portion of the soul eroded through this “extra-curricular activity.” If they want a chunk of newspaper space or a spot on the website to say their peace, I’m a big fan.
However, I’ll challenge the group of students building theirs right now to do them better than the seniors have in the past. If they do, I’ll feature their pieces on the blog. I’ll also gladly submit to any reasonable request they have of me (public decency and libel laws still apply. Oh, and I’m not writing your senior thesis for you…)
Here are the three points of this challenge:
STOP BEING SO PREDICTABLE: If there’s one thing that drives me nuts about these things is that they are so generic, I could write them in my sleep. It took all of about 20 minutes to create this “Madlibs” version of the typical senior goodbye column:
If you really learned so much at the paper over the course of your college career, consider demonstrating it by doing something engaging and special. At the very least, make your piece somehow different from the other six “goodbye” pieces that are running right next to yours in the paper.
Prove you’re better than the script of a B-movie horror flick and do something that doesn’t have the words “generic” and “cliche” written all over it.
ESCAPE FROM PERSONAL PRONOUN HELL: It isn’t easy to write a piece about yourself without being self-referential. That said, as much as this piece is for you, it’s also for other people, so try to find a way to cut back on the uses of “I” and “me” and “my” in here.
On a lark, I pulled the first three paragraphs of the last three of these “send off” pieces available on various student media outlets. Self-referential pronouns (I, me, my etc.) accounted for about 12-14% of all words used there.
It’s not always easy to cut back on these, and there’s no shame in being personally reflective in a piece like this. However, when you sound like Donald Trump writing his autobiography while on a meth bender, you really need to reconsider your approach to all this.
MAKE YOUR MEMORIES MEMORABLE (IN A GOOD WAY): As we mentioned in a previous post, a set of “goodbye columns” can be memorable for all the wrong reasons. What we’re talking about here is leaving behind something wonderfully memorable.
As someone who writes a ton of copy for various platforms, I’ll be the first to admit that not every day is filled with brilliance and not every missive should win a Pulitzer. Some pieces are good, others are like the “get me over fastball” that just has to be in the strike zone somewhere and at least a few are wince-worthy duds. It’s the normal curve of writing a lot.
However, you only get one shot at this. It’s your staff goodbye, your senior “bon voyage,” your one golden moment in the sun. Make it something epic and special in a way that the rest of us can feel it, too.
One of the best things that can be said of a well-reported and deftly written obituary is that people who read it learn about someone in whose death they wished they’d gotten to know in life. That is the thing the piece you are writing right now should provide for your readers.
Sure, the people who know you best will get a lot out of the stories you tell and the memories you share, but people who DON’T know you should find themselves enamored with your tales and desperate to connect with this newsroom you describe.
Give this thing one good swing and make it count. I can’t wait to see it.
Although this isn’t a great look for a guy accused of drinking to excess, the author of the Atlantic article on Kash Patel stated that this is among the least worrisome moments of his time as FBI director.
The F.B.I. director, Kash Patel, sued The Atlantic on Monday, accusing it of defamation over an article that claimed his excessive drinking and unexplained absences were putting his job in jeopardy.
The article, under the headline “The FBI Director Is MIA,” was published on Friday and detailed Mr. Patel’s behavior in his role leading the Federal Bureau of Investigation, citing more than two dozen anonymous sources. The author, Sarah Fitzpatrick, wrote that Mr. Patel’s conduct had “often alarmed officials at the F.B.I. and the Department of Justice.” The article said he “has also earned a reputation for acting impulsively during high-stakes investigations.”
Mr. Patel denied the claims in a statement to The Atlantic, which the article included.
THE BACKGROUND:Sarah Fitzpatrick’s article focuses on a string of incidents in which a long list of unnamed sources note that Patel was exhibiting all the textbook signs of an entitled frat boy. These allegations included:
He was drunk and missing a lot of work because of it.
He was drunk at his favorite local bar while hanging out with co-workers.
He frequently jetted off to Las Vegas, where he got plastered at another favorite hangout.
People had to rework his schedule to avoid early morning meetings because Patel was sleeping off the action from the night before.
He was too messed up to do his job when people tried to reach him, or they just couldn’t reach him at all.
He bragged about things that weren’t true, including misinforming the public about the capture of the Brown University shooter.
The White House issued a statement with a blanket denial of these allegations and Patel himself was quoted as saying, “Print it, all false, I’ll see you in court—bring your checkbook.”
A federal judge in Texas has tossed a defamation suit brought by FBI Director Kash Patel against former FBI assistant director-turned-MSNBC contributor Frank Figliuzzi.
Patel had sued Figliuzzi over comments he made on “Morning Joe” about the FBI director’s evening activities.
“Yeah, well, reportedly, he’s been visible at nightclubs far more than he has been on the seventh floor of the Hoover building,” Figliuzzi said on the show last year.
<SNIP>
U.S. District Judge George Hanks Jr. (wrote) “Figliuzzi’s statement, when taken in context, cannot have been perceived by a person of ordinary intelligence as stating actual facts about Patel.”
“A person of reasonable intelligence and learning would not have taken his statement literally: that Dir. Patel has actually spent more hours physically in a nightclub than he has spent physically in his office building,” the judge added.
I’m glad about the verdict, but given what we’re seeing these days in terms of “reasonable intelligence and learning” out there, I’m worried where that bar will be set in the future.
WHY YOU SHOULD CARE AS A JOURNALISM STUDENT: This article and Patel’s suit provide a pretty interesting look at how defamation (or libel) tends to work or not work, as well as an opportunity to look into building stories like this. Here are some key issues:
UNNAMED SOURCES: This whole story is built on the backs of sources that Fitzpatrick did not name in the article. That is ALWAYS a huge risk in journalism for a variety of reasons. Source credibility comes into question, issues of people having axes to grind show up, sources who eventually get IDed might backtrack and leave you holding the bag… The list is pretty long and the dangers are pretty strong.
The things that make this a little more stable than many of the other stories that show up with an unnamed source along with a wing and a prayer are:
A) The volume of sources. Fitzpatrick is stacking people like cord wood in this thing, noting as many as a dozen people have corroborated the things she’s putting into her piece. If that is accurate, and I have no substantive reason to doubt it, that means this story has some stronger legs to stand on than most.
B) I go back to a conversation I had with my friend Allison, who covered the Chicagoland Catholic church molestation scandals of the early 2000s. I used to ask her how she knew for sure that the priests in her stories were serial pedophiles. The information she gathered came from the accusers, usually years or decades later, and was almost impossible to back up with documents or other “official source” content that I had gotten used to using in my own work.
Her answer was simple: She did a ton of digging, verified in every way she could and then she published the content and waited. In almost every case, if she published one or two accusations, she immediately heard from at least three or four other people who told her the same things had happened to them.
“My response is that I stand by every single word of this report,” she said. “We were very diligent. We were very careful. It went through multiple levels of editing, review, care.
“And I think one of the things that has been most gratifying, after – immediately after the story published was, I have been inundated by additional sourcing going up to the highest levels of the government, thanking us for doing the work, providing additional corroborating information.”
The only way Fitzpatrick was going to get this story was by providing anonymity to her sources, so she took a risk. That said, it wasn’t a foolish risk, which is something to keep in mind when someone says, “Hey, I have a story for you, but you can’t use my name…”
A HIGH BAR TO CLEAR: As a public figure, Patel has to demonstrate that the Atlantic engaged in actual malice, as opposed to mere negligence, and that’s a pretty tough thing to do. As the folks at Poynter point out:
Can Patel actually be successful in his suit? Sure, anything is possible, but it’s unlikely.
During an appearance on CNN, Brian Stelter, CNN’s media reporter, said, “Actual malice is the very high legal standard that public figures have to prove in order to win a defamation suit. They have to prove that The Atlantic knew these claims were false or had a reckless disregard for the truth.”
This kind of goes back to the first point in a way: When you only have one anonymous/unnamed source, there’s a huge risk you are buying the Brooklyn Bridge and you should know better. When you have a dozen or more people telling you the exact same thing, it’s going to be hard to prove a vast conspiracy among those folks and the reporter, with them all knowingly trying to frame you for something.
It also merits pointing out that what makes for a public figure or not isn’t always easy, so it’s important to think about the stories you’re writing that might cast aspersions. Patel is obviously public, but if you’re writing a similar “too drunk to work” story about the school librarian or a local business owner, if things go south, this might be a concern.
GETTING SLAPP-ED AROUND: We have discussed the concept of Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation, or SLAPP, suits here before. The John Oliver/Bob Murray Suit was one of my favorite versions of SLAPP suits, primarily because not only was it so blatantly obviously meant to silence criticism, but also because it allowed me to use the name “Mr. Nutterbutter” in my textbooks.
This brings to bear an unfortunate point: Just because you’re right, it doesn’t mean some yahoo won’t sue you to make your life miserable. What’s important to know before you go after a story is to what degree your media outlet will support you, to what degree you can accurately defend your work and to what degree you think the juice is worth the squeeze. Then, you can decide how to move forward.
In Patel’s case, it was obvious he would be coming after the Atlantic, and it was obvious the Atlantic had a big enough war chest to fight back. That said, these kinds of suits can create a chilling effect on quality journalists who want to do important work. It’s not supposed to happen in a society in which the First Amendment provides us with some of the best support in the world, but we do have to deal with the reality of our surroundings.
