(Michelle Devera Louie is at the National Labor College in Silver Spring, Maryland, for the New Local Officers Seminar. She's blogging about her experience from the land of labor and blue crab. This is her first dispatch.)
As you can see from the sun beating at my back, it's sunny and snowy in Silver Spring, Maryland, and I'm waiting in my room for the party to begin. The weather's not why I'm here though (same goes my cohort who, for now, shall remain nameless).
I'm here because the good people at The Newspaper Guild think I should be. But should I? Do I deserve to be here? My beloved co-workers on the features copy desk already have so much to do and no time to do it, and having one person down is as painful as having teeny-tiny razor blades playfully dragged across your skin while chewing on glass. It continually hurts but, after a while, you get used to it.
That's exactly why I'm here. No one should have to get used to it.
Enough is enough. I cannot stand by and watch quality sacrificed for quantity in the name of "journalism" as my brethren suffer and fatten someone else's wallet. That's not the journalism I practice. That's not the truth, freedom or democracy of my birthright. Someone once told me that we should all be thankful to still have jobs. Please. I'd rather read Dickens than have some higher-up dish it out to me, thank you.
They may serve us gruel but it doesn't mean we have to eat it.
(Editor's note: I'm assured that the food at the National Labor College rates significantly better than gruel. Stay tuned for more dispatches from Michelle...)
As you can see from the sun beating at my back, it's sunny and snowy in Silver Spring, Maryland, and I'm waiting in my room for the party to begin. The weather's not why I'm here though (same goes my cohort who, for now, shall remain nameless).
I'm here because the good people at The Newspaper Guild think I should be. But should I? Do I deserve to be here? My beloved co-workers on the features copy desk already have so much to do and no time to do it, and having one person down is as painful as having teeny-tiny razor blades playfully dragged across your skin while chewing on glass. It continually hurts but, after a while, you get used to it.
That's exactly why I'm here. No one should have to get used to it.
Enough is enough. I cannot stand by and watch quality sacrificed for quantity in the name of "journalism" as my brethren suffer and fatten someone else's wallet. That's not the journalism I practice. That's not the truth, freedom or democracy of my birthright. Someone once told me that we should all be thankful to still have jobs. Please. I'd rather read Dickens than have some higher-up dish it out to me, thank you.
They may serve us gruel but it doesn't mean we have to eat it.
(Editor's note: I'm assured that the food at the National Labor College rates significantly better than gruel. Stay tuned for more dispatches from Michelle...)
No comments:
Post a Comment