Fourth Grade is Phat

Earlier this week I reported on a story in the very tiny town of Hallsville (pop. 978) about 20 miles from Columbia. The teachers at the local elementary school are doing their own version of the Biggest Loser and we decided to put a TV package together for it.

All was fine and dandy, and the teachers were very friendly, cooperative and helpful. One of the fourth grade teachers started telling my partner, Shannon, and I about her class’s current project of putting a newscast together. It seems sometime back in the 90s, when governments burned money to keep their populace socially lubricated, the school was awarded a grant and some video cameras.

Before long, the kids had access to a studio and a control console. Each week they produced a news show for a local cable channel–until, they say, the road to the school was resurfaced and the cable cut.

The tradition continues, however, and that’s how Shannon and I found ourselves standing in front of a room of 9 year olds fielding questions about story ideas, anchor presence, and how to stay organized. For two students who until this point have only classroom experience in journalism, it was a bit of a tongue-in-cheek game of ‘pretend we know more than we do.’

All went fine, but for the first time I actually understood how my dad felt when I was in fourth grade and he was asked to come into my class and talk about journalism. My mom would give him a hard time about pacing around the kitchen, and I distinctly remember his eyes tearing up–his nervous reaction.