Doing journalism the June Callwood way

By Fabiola Carletti

Janet Malcolm was wrong.

In a famously cynical quotation, she decries journalists as people who prey on the vanity, loneliness or ignorance of others, gaining their trust and betraying them without remorse. Every journalist knows this, she asserted, provided they aren't too stupid or full of themselves to notice what is going on.

And although Malcolm is herself a reporter, she calls the profession " morally indefensible" in her 1990 book The Journalist and the Murder.

Enter June Callwood: a decidedly empathetic and socially active journalist who lived her philosophy of kindness until her last days.

This was a woman who actually did all the things that sometimes sound contrived and trite in ethics classes: writing to change the world, speaking up for the vulnerable, afflicting the comfortable and comforting the afflicted.

She was interesting and humble, refusing performance makeup in her CBC television days, learning how to fly a plane as a side project, founding charitable and change-oriented organizations, bringing compassion to her work.

She was a professional human being.

I'm not saying Malcolm isn't talented and insightful. I devoured her book with great interest last summer and often felt convinced by her severe depiction of journalism.

Neither am I saying Callwood is the only exception.

The point, I think, is that there comes a time when a young journalist must ask herself what she really wants to achieve in this often amorphous profession and what kind of an agent she imagines herself to be.

Personally, I think it's far more rewarding to follow the June Callwood way.

Instead of the negative navel-gazing, why not focus on how to practice solutions-focused journalism? Malcolm's book is about the damage a writer can do ... but what about the difference a writer can make?

I leave you with a more positive quotation that Callwood spoke while receiving the Writers' Trust Award for Distinguished Contribution in the last year of her life:

If any of you happens to see an injustice, you are no longer a spectator. You are a participant. And you have an obligation to do something.

June in her own words
The last interview of her life

Photo: Naming of June Callwood Way. June pulls the cord to unveil the sign. CREDIT: Ron Bull Toronto Star.

Fabiola Carletti is a Toronto Star radio room reporter and graduate student at the UBC School of Journalism. She wishes she could do cool bike tricks and wasn't so afraid of getting boo-boos. Her digital footprints are all over the internet, but you can learn more about her by reading her blog, or chasing her around on twitter

You’ll never forget your first BFF

By Fabiola Carletti

 I can still picture my dear Raleigh. She was beautiful: forest green and gleaming -- a bike that could brave the bumpiest hills in Trinity Bellwoods Park. 

I didn't know it would be over after a one-night kickstand. 

Long story short: I brought her out for the very first time and, in a lapse of judgment, took my 12-year-old eyes off her for exactly 2 minutes. When I turned around, she was no longer leaning by that old oak tree. 

Naturally, I ran home and called the police, tearfully beginning with "I have an emergency." The woman on the phone said she'd be sure to have her officers look all over the city ... but not to call 911 for such things again. 

I've been a pedestrian ever since. 

The thing is, I still envy people whisking by me on bicycles -- dapper guys and gals who sometimes flash things as classic as a slimer bike horn or a sturdy straw basket. I imagine many in this bike-unfriendly city have their own anecdotes and would appreciate a space in which someone would hand over a tissue after a bike theft story. (Hey -- it really was an emergency.)

Humble suggestion to T.O. kids: ride on over to the Bicycle Film Festival (BFF) this weekend if you're keen on a tale told on two wheels.

All three of my roommates and their partners bike the city. It kind of makes me feel like a penguin who lives with toucans. One of them, my roomie Aubrey, has this short list of why this film fest is a must see:

• Cycling policy is a hot topic in TO, but this is the soft side, a celebration of bikes.
• It's the 10th anniversary and it's one of the largest film festivals in the world - in more than 30 cities globally.
• The trailer is awesome.
• You'll get to see things like the short film below, which screened in 2008 and is directed and produced by Toronto's own Benny Zenga

Side note: Benny almost moved into the house where I now live, which makes me feel kind of cool by near-association. His film features the kind of fearless I wish I could have been growing up. 

SKI BOYS from Benny Zenga on Vimeo.

Fabiola Carletti is a Toronto Star radio room reporter and graduate student at the UBC School of Journalism. She wishes she could do cool bike tricks and wasn't so afraid of getting boo-boos. Her digital footprints are all over the internet, but you can learn more about her by reading her blog, or chasing her around on twitter

A prayer in pixels

Dear Internet,

I don't have a "religion", per se.

I was born into a Roman-Catholic family but like many of those born in the 1980s and beyond, I left the proverbial flock in high school when I was introduced to dystopian fiction by a bass-playing atheist boy at a university party I had sneaked into behind my mother's back. (sorry mom.)

As far as traditional deities go, I can't say I really believe in any. But I do believe in you, Internet.

I can't see you with my eyes, but I know you're all around me.

Omnipresent, all-knowing, mysterious - capable of feats incomprehensible to most human minds. 

Not even Superman himself can simultaneously throw 40 million gigabytes of information in billions of directions around the globe at the speed of light. Though, given that said data in its simplest form would weigh approximately fifty-six millionths of a gram, it wouldn't exactly be too heavy for him... but I digress.

Superman is not a traditional god, and neither are you, Internet. You are simply of the most powerful positive forces I have ever known. Negative, too.

Theoretically, you occupy less space than a single grain of sand - yet your physical contribution to the ecology of our planet is equal to that of a small country.You exist in time and place, transcending these boundaries at the same time to become timeless and aspatial.

A sprawling geographical entity contained within an atomic whisper. A mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a Twinkie.

Some might argue that in a (arguably) post-religious Western society, you're bigger than God. Than all of the gods.

With 4.2 billion unique worshipers housed on more than 44 million servers, they might be right. 

We pray to you in ones and zeros at the altars of our own choosing, in temples as varied as they are the same. University computer lab church. Wi-fi enabled coffee shop church. Parents' basement gaming station church. iPhone on the streetcar church. Church church.

Until blood is shed in the Mac vs. PC debate, I can safely say that we don't wage wars over your holy lands, because there are none.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you went away. A technological apocalypse. An iPocalypse? No. Despite what Flash developers say, Steve Jobs is not the Devil.

I love you dear Internet, but I'm not afraid to lose you, for I know that if you ever went away, civil society would evaporate too - and a post-digital world would probably have to involve Brad Pitt or Mark Wahlberg or (dare I dream?) Leonardo DiCaprio restoring world order with an epic series of high octane adventures.

As much as I do worship you, dear Internet, I am but a mere mortal. And I love me some Leo :)

Sincerely,

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Lauren O’Neil is a Star intern and recent graduate of the Master of Arts - Journalism program at the University of Western Ontario. She is rarely, if ever, spotted without a pink Blackberry in her hand and is fluent in both HTML and English. Please follow her on Twitter so that she can continue to build up her mad social media cred @laurenonizzle.

People Like Me

By Fabiola Carletti

My throat felt tight when I first heard about the teenage boy who had been found dead in the Humber River.

The proximity was startling. My family lives only minutes from that river and, as I soon discovered, the boy had gone to the same high school that my sister now attends. He later transferred to my cousin’s school.

Reporting on the story was difficult. It literally hit home.

I was about 14  when I moved to Rexdale. Although I was scared of the neighbourhood at first, I have come to appreciate it, despite its stigma as a troubled community rife with crime and despite some of my own encounters with its grittier side.

But now I know that the terrible things that have happened in the area do not define it as a community.

Still, I have to come to grips with the fact that this 17-year-old boy has been shot and pushed into waters I know well.

My inner skeptic reminds me of how much I hated the way these stories were covered in the media since before I, too, was part of the media. The victim is young and he’s black and he’s from Rexdale. Let’s just say I was doubtful that he’d get the attention Jane Creba did.

But this, too, is a tragedy.

No one should be attending a funeral for such a young kid. No boys should be on trial for killing their peer. As one of the boy’s classmates said, “No one knows what happened. People shouldn’t assume.”

It’s true. We don’t know what happened. The Sun has reported that the suspects were best friends with the victim, and an unnamed witness said they were all playing ball the last time he saw them. Everything seemed fine.

At the end of the day, it’s just heart-breaking.

In a blog post called Rexdale, the beautiful I wrote: … "every time a story of hope is dropped in favour of yet another fear-inducing slogan; every time a young person is looked upon with tenuous suspicion; every time moral crusaders cheer when society gives up on a young offender . . . Rexdale endures another shot to its ever pulsating heart.”

I had to negotiate all these thoughts when assigned the task of covering homicide number 33 for the paper. While I was trying to reach family members, one of my editors searched my eyes and said, “are you emotionally attached to this story?” I think it’s more accurate to say I am invested in this all-too familiar narrative. When I finally wrote about it, I tried avoid the tired frame of fear and blame. This is how I ended my article:

Although the investigation is ongoing, his friends hope the public won’t pigeonhole the teen.

“Don’t stereotype him as just another kid from Rexdale that got gunned down,” said Broglio.

Diana Alves, Dowden’s classmate from Michael Power, agreed.

“You can’t judge a book by its cover, just like you can’t judge a child by where he comes from,” she said

I asked these kids to reach out and trust some unknown reporter to tell me about their friend. They said he had an infectious laugh, and that he was someone you could really talk to. He leaves behind families in two homes, including a number of siblings.

He would have been entering his last year of high school had he not died this summer.

I leave you with a beautiful song by one of Rexdale’s own, and the song for which I named this post.

Heaven, is there a chance that you could come down
And open doors to hurting people like me?
People like me, people like me
People like me, people like me

Fabiola Carletti is a Toronto Star radio room reporter and graduate student at the UBC School of Journalism. She recently graduated summa cum laude from York University, having earned an honours double major in Professional Writing and Communication Studies. Her digital footprints are all over the internet, but you can learn more about her by reading her blog, or chasing her around on twitter. 

Photo credits: by Flickr user Gary J. Wood

The weight of the wait in Toronto

By Joanne Wong

The other day I accidentally got caught in peak rush hour traffic in Toronto after running an errand.

It wasn’t quite like Tokyo but I had to wait on the College station platform as five trains carrying impossible numbers of passengers took turns stopping in front of me and taunted me to get on and violate the personal space of more than a handful of people.

I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be; I just really wanted to go home and watch commercials for Shark Week. They are awesome.

My ire burned as the door chimes of mockery rang out and the trains crawled off into the abysmal tunnel (with no cell phone signal! Honestly.)

My neighbours angrily clenched their fists, then shook them, then made a slight punching gesture. I’m not a fighter, so I stood there muttering to myself.

I looked over my shoulder to see one man standing quietly, reading a book.

We exchanged looks, and he smiled, “Next one. We’ll get on the next one.”

Playing the ever-cynical journalist, I raised my eyebrow and said, “Sure.”

The Zen man was right. I got a seat too. It was nice.

It’s only become clear to me over the past few weeks of running around the wonderful city of Toronto that Canadians’ favourite pastime is not hockey, but complaining. We really should make it into a national sport. Imagine watching angry Canadians (not an oxy moron, as the world may think) compete on “Most X-treme Exasperations” every Thursday night right after “Canada’s Got Tirades”.

Granted, there are endless things we can get angry over, and be duly justified. Why aren’t we doing more to help inner-city neighbourhoods? How can we slice off a bigger piece of the national budget for foreign aid? Why is the government spending so much money on this, that and whatever? What is up with the oil spill?

The list goes on, and as many Star readers have demonstrated in the comments section on this website and otherwise, they have plenty of valid solutions to offer, as long as they are given the opportunities to implement them. Torontonians are truly creative and co-operative, smart and sensible. Unlike people in the Niagara Region.

Then there are straight-up complaints. I don’t want to trivialize real issues, so I am reluctant to raise examples. But you know what I’m getting at.

Of course, pointing a finger of blame at you means three pointing back at me. I am a huge complainer. I get irritated when the pedestrian in front of me walks extra slowly, or when people behind me are in a mysterious rush and pressure me to walk faster as I casually stroll along. Or when I have to stay overtime since news keeps happening (why does it do that? And on weekends! It’s outrageous), or when I have to sit and twiddle my thumbs on a quiet shift. So essentially, all the time, and about everything.

I roll my eyes so much I should probably attach spoons on my face to catch them when they fall out. Don’t want to get dirt on them, since the city streets are just gross, you know. Gosh.

I live with a shameless sense of entitlement so I should be the last to talk about this, but let’s all try to be more gracious and grateful. Few of us are billionaires, but many of us have already won the “ovarian lottery” getting here.

There are important issues right here in our city and in the world, so I guess I can try focusing more on those rather than the few gratuitous minutes the server is taking to bring me my fizzy water at the Sumemrlicious restaurant.

And he forgot the lime. How am I supposed to drink this?

Joanne Wong is a reporting intern at the Star this summer.

Digital Natives = Digital Experts? Not exactly . . .

By Lauren O’Neil

Here's a question for our under-30 readers: Have you ever been asked by an older relative to install computer software, "delete a virus", or "look something up" online under the assumption that, because you're one of those "kids with their internet", you're also an expert when it comes to digital technology? 

RT @LLRX: So-Called "Digital Natives" Not Media Savvy, New Study Shows - http://tinyurl.com/36qo6wh

I immediately rolled my eyes at the article's title and then clicked through to see who was hating on us damn entitled millennial hooligans now.

"In Google we trust." That may very well be the motto of today's young online users...

That's how the article begins. Fair enough. I have likened Google to an omnipresent, all-knowing God on numerous occasions. No beef there.

there has been (a perhaps misguided) perception that the young are more digitally in-tune with the ways of the Web than others.

Yup. Based on the number of friends I have who still get confused by the "RT"s, "@"s and hashtags in my Twitter-Synced Facebook feed, I'd say that's pretty accurate.

What got me riled up was the article author's assertion that our demographic group has been dubbed "digital natives" due to our apparent tech-savvy.

"NO! We're called digital natives because we were born into a world where digital technology has always existed - we don't know any other way of life! It has nothing to do with how SAVVY we are!" I yelled at the screen - or something along those lines but probably less eloquent.

When Marc Prensky coined the term in 2001, he made the distinction between Digital Natives (Gen Y, Z and X-ers who are "native speakers" of the digital language of computers, video games and the internet) and Digital Immigrants (Our hip parents and grandparents - those who were not born into the digital world but have adopted many or most aspects of the new technology). He contends that Digital Immigrants are perfectly capable of learning this digital language, but that like a person who learns a spoken language later in life, they will always retain an accent.

"As Digital Immigrants learn – like all immigrants, some better than others – to adapt to their environment, they always retain, to some degree, their "accent," that is, their foot in the past. The “digital immigrant accent” can be seen in such things as turning to the Internet for information second rather than first, or in reading the manual for a program rather than assuming that the program itself will teach us to use it." (page 2)

To run with the metaphor of spoken language, I believe that some immigrants can come to master a language (accent or no accent) and speak it more fluently than one who was born and raised speaking it. It all comes down to education, hard work, natural intelligence and, as someone so poignantly pointed out when I first posted about this on my personal blog, attitude.


 

The same can be said for digital languages.

Millennials may have been able to "speak" technology from an early age, but it doesn't mean we can all speak it particularly well.

I know people twice my age who will run circles around my peers in the tech. department and, conversely, I know people half my age who can run circles around my elders when it comes to grammar and spelling.

But I`m getting off topic... The Northwestern University study that sparked this post isn't about how technologically adept students are in the online space as much as it's about how media literate they are online.

According to the researchers, it's not very.

The main findings of the study showed that digital natives tend to place a lot of blind faith in search engine brands and algorithms they don't even understand, judging the credibility of a source by its place on a results page. If a website ranks high on Google or Yahoo!, it MUST be legit, right? 

My research methods professor would have said that with only 102 subjects from an isolated and relatively homegenous population, this study is hardly credible. However, based on personal observations and some of the scholarly research available on the subject, I’d say the authors findings are dead on.

Young people spend a lot of time online, but they don`t necessarily understand the online space. Most of us can navigate it to an extent, but the ones who can map it and create it are few and far between.

It pains me to say this, but hypersavvy youngsters seem to be the exception, not the rule - at least where I come from. There are lots of internet kids bopping around Toronto, but for every one of us geeksters there are 11 of our peers nearby asking for help with linking an email account to a shiny new smartphone.

Digital Natives are not Digital experts by default, and I don`t think it`s fair to expect them to be.

Had I not been interested in computers as a kid and then schooled in communications and information technology I'd probably be just as lost when it comes to batch resizing images and setting up SQL databases as my friends who went to university for Human Kinetics or English Literature.

It`s time to stop segregating web populations by age - we`re living in a multitechnocultural society here, people! It's 2010 for gawshsakes.

Young or old, male or female, Digital Native or Digital Immigrant, anyone who's got the gumption to go after it can be media literate and technologically fluent with the right education.

And therin lies the rub.

Critical web literacy isn't currently a part of the curriculum in many Canadian schools. There are fabulous resources available for educators who choose to integrate web media literacy lessons into their classrooms, but nothing is mandated beyond some basic media education units in the language program and THAT is problematic.

How will students learn to be web-savvy if they're left to figure out all of this 'new media' stuff on their own?

Methodological discrepancies aside, I wholeheartedly agree with the Northwestern University study researchers when they conclude that `'Further initiatives that help educate people in this domain are needed'.

The Canadian Media Awareness Network agrees. The non-profit organization, which has been pioneering the development of media literacy and digital literacy programs in Canada since in 1996, recently released a "Digital Literacy Paper" that calls for federal leadership in the creation of a "national digital literacy strategy to ensure all Canadians have the necessary skills to use digital technologies to their fullest potential."

A national digital literacy strategy... I love the sound of that.

What are your thoughts?

Lauren O’Neil is a recent graduate of the Master of Arts - Journalism program at the University of Western Ontario. She is rarely, if ever, spotted without a pink Blackberry in her hand and is fluent in both HTML and English. Please follow her on Twitter so that she can continue to build up her mad social media cred @laurenonizzle.