MIKE MASTERSON: Mentoring perspective

Teaching context

Between 1989 and 1994 at Ohio State University, I was, one could rightly say, a rather unorthodox professor when it came to mentoring prospective journalists.

It helped that, coming from six newsrooms over 18 years into the university's sprawling journalism building to fill an endowed chair and professorship, I had the luxury of focusing solely on teaching without the distractions of research or publishing.

Most students felt neglected in the massive university's largely impersonal classrooms. They longed for some mentoring time and to feel significant.

While I enjoyed heading the school's Kiplinger Public Affairs Reporting program (and selecting eight to 10 of the brightest professional applicants from around the planet to spend a year teaching and mentoring them as Kiplinger Fellows who earned expense-paid master's degrees), even deeper fulfillment came in interacting with undergraduate students.

There was something truly special about the freshness of life and naiveté young men and women exuded in their collegiate years when the choices of life spread out before them.

I subscribed to a nonconventional theory that said any 18-year-old aspiring to journalism should first begin to comprehend some fundamental facts of life. My philosophy: It's always beneficial to be exposed to a skosh of perspective and context in a field where one's expected to relate human qualities and motives to readers or viewers.

One of the first lessons was explaining that their hope of being happy by acquiring a flashy new car, new dress or that sprawling house on a hill is an illusion driven by modern marketing. "The way real life too often works is, even should you finally get that fancy ride, magnificent dress, or impressive home, you'll wash that new car every day for six weeks or so then start spilling Taco Bell on the seats," I'd say. "That new dress probably winds up on the closet floor. Any happiness or satisfaction gained from getting things is fleeting. As for that big home, if you're living with the wrong person in that house, odds are you might not want to walk through the door many nights."

The lesson: Find authentic happiness from within and satisfaction by what you contribute without expectation of repayment.

Bright eyes invariably would grow wider as I'd continue.

"You also should understand, as you rapidly move toward becoming adults, that words spoken into thin air, regardless of how eloquent and comforting they might sound, are never worthy of your trust. It's far too cheap and easy for those of lesser character to use mere words to gain advantage."

To the dismay of some boys in class, I used the example of how simple it is for them to utter those three little words female classmates might long to hear to gain their hormonally driven objectives. "So never believe spoken words, even though you long to, until they're backed up by actions. The same holds true for messages written anonymously by those with obvious agendas to sway your thoughts and actions."

At this point, hands would inevitably be raised. I recall one female student asking, "So you're saying if a boyfriend says I love you, he probably doesn't?"

"Not necessarily," I responded. "I'm saying if you hear those endearing words yet you don't hear from him for a week, always believe in actions rather than some phrase easily recited in the heat of a moment."

I'd make certain they were exposed to Plato's Allegory of the Cave (too lengthy to pursue here yet well worth Googling). Basically, Plato said the lives we live are much like prisoners chained to a cavern floor who only see shadows dancing before them on the wall. These movements are what they perceive as reality while the deeper truths of human existence lie far above in the sunshine.

My hope was to make each realize that what their limited contexts and perspectives might perceive as truth and reality in this physical world most often is akin to Plato's illusory shadows dancing on the walls of their enclosed minds.

I'd encourage them to discuss whether a person's many overall contributions to life and sharing make any difference to fairly telling the story of that man or woman's arrest. In other words, does a journalist have an obligation to place an accused (or even convicted) person's life in broader context that includes all the good they also may have done? Was the mythical Robin Hood a crook or a saint?

Finally, I made it a point to lead a class into the technical aspects of writing and reporting by reminding them of another eternal truth.

"Anyone else with whom you are communicating is always filtering the information you're providing as to how what you're sharing affects them, not you. That includes parents, friends, lovers, spouses, employers, anyone. The wisest always bear that reality in mind when they speak or write to another. In that way, you can better understand the reactions you inevitably get to whatever you choose to share with them."

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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected].

Editorial on 08/16/2016

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