CLASSROOM
ON INTERSTATE-880
By Mark Neuling
TechTV
Field Camera Operator
A little over twenty years ago I quit teaching, went back to school
and studied what was called back then “Broadcast Arts.” At
that time, similar to now, there were no full-time teaching jobs
available for inexperienced, young teachers. I started my career
in television with an internship at a Public Access cable television
station close to 20 years ago and never looked back.
When I started here at my current job we had a young and largely
inexperienced staff of reporters and producers. One of the reasons
I was recommended for my job at TechTV was because of the work I
had done at Santa Clara University teaching production classes. Coupled
with that was my position as the intern coordinator at my previous
job. Of course I’m paid to make pictures, but I always
try to impart some lesson or share some experience with the younger
staff members. Subtle stuff like, “I’m glad I don’t
have to log that tape.” Which translated means – your
interview went a little long. Or, “Sure, let’s
shoot the stand-up your way, but could we do one like this?” Guess
which version they choose nine times out of ten?
Early one Friday afternoon the assignment editor comes by my desk
with a shoot that I need to head out on right away. The day
before the San Jose Mercury News had broken a story about six students
at a Fremont high school that had hacked into the school district’s
computer and changed their grades using software they downloaded
from the Internet. The desk wants some b-roll of the school, an interview
with the principal and some MOS from some of the students. Standard
stuff. Then she mentions that they’ll be sending an intern
with me so I don’t have to get this all on my own. Great,
at least I’ll have someone to hold the microphone I think to
myself.
The intern and I head for the car. Neither of us is sure if
this is to be a “day of” story but we want to play it
safe and assume that it is. We also aren’t sure if the
principal will give us an interview. That hasn’t been confirmed. Our
directions from MAPQUEST say that it will take just under an hour
to reach our destination. It is twelve-thirty now; say we need
to be back by three o’clock to give adequate time for the story
to be written, approved and edited. Figure two hours of driving
barring that we don’t hit traffic; that leaves us with about
thirty minutes to actually shoot the story. It’ll
be tight, it won’t be award winning, but it’s doable.
I’d only worked with this intern once before. I’d
rarely seen her around the shop after that one shoot. As we
crossed the Bay Bridge I asked how her internship was going. “Fine,
I’m glad I came back for a second semester,” she tells
me. I wasn’t aware she’d already done one semester much
less come back for a second. This time around she was spending
more time in the field with crews and less time logging tapes. I
try to get some information from her about the shoot, but she doesn’t
know any more than I do. I query her as to what questions she
might have in mind. I can see her wheels spinning but I sense
how unprepared she is.
A news car is a lot of things; cafeteria, confessional, psychiatric
couch and classroom. Occasionally I have to do an interview,
so I know the elements that are a part of most television interviews. I
encourage the intern to cover the basics, get some background on
the situation, make it conversational and listen closely to the principal’s
answers for follow-up questions.
Our drive is rather uneventful for a Friday afternoon. The
producer for this story calls on the cell phone. “Are
you there yet?” he asks in his rapid fire way. “About
halfway,” I tell him. He’s managed to convince
the principal of the school to meet with us for an interview. This
particular producer is a great guy and bloodhound when it comes to
sniffing out stories. But he tends to pre-visualize the story. I’m
all for having an idea about what the story should look like, but
I learned a long time ago to glean what I can from the field. Things
almost never present themselves in a manner that the desk jockeys
back at the station see them. Sometimes the shots just aren’t
there. Besides, most pre-visualized shots are the same old
television cliches that have been floating around the industry for
decades.
It’s a clear blue day with a sky that sparkles from the rains. There
is not a soul in sight as we pull into the school parking lot. The
campus is extremely quiet for a Friday. We unload the gear
and make our way to the Administration Office. The principal
wants to shoot the interview outside. I know the intern wants
to make a good impression and to appear professional. But she
herself is only about four years removed from being a high school
student. The questions feel rehearsed, her demeanor doesn’t
express much confidence. The principal handles the interview
well. He has a good grasp of the technology the kids used to
hack into the district computers. Towards the end of the interview
the bell rings and students flood into the quad as they make their
way to their next class. I need to get b-roll of this.
I ask the principal for permission to shoot the kids as they scramble
back and forth to class. He gives us the OK for the b-roll
but doesn’t want us to talk with any of them; there is still
an investigation going on he doesn’t want anyone to say something
that may jeopardize it. I have no problem honoring the principal’s
request. I wade into the stream of students passing by.
On nearly every Friday for over a decade I would shoot high school
sports for my old TV station. Some days we’d hit four different
games. I’ve spent many hours at high school events
and around high school students. I have learned to ignore the
requests to “Put me on TV!” There are only a few
minutes to get some footage. My intern still has the microphone
and I can hear the students asking her why are you here? Most
seem to instinctively know the reason. “Are you here because
of the cheaters?” I hear over and over. In a few moments
the quad is empty again save for some JV baseball players waiting
for a ride to their game. We throw the gear into the back of
the car and drive up to the corner to get some signage. The
street outside the school is silent and empty. No cars are
leaving and nobody is milling about. We call it a wrap. I
need to find a restroom.
I return to the car after my break. The intern seems a bit
concerned. She’d checked in with the producer and he’s
disappointed that we didn’t get any sound from some students. He
feels it’s really important to the story; but has us head back
to San Francisco anyway.
There is a fair distance over city streets for us to cover before
we reach the highway. The stoplights give us time to discuss
what options we had.
We could have shot first and gotten permission later. Most
of us in the media have used this tactic from time to time and it
has its merits. Sometimes you’re not going to get anything
unless you take the initiative.
We could have ignored the principal’s wishes. Plenty
of students passed right by us as I shot b-roll. We could have
clandestinely asked any one of them some questions. Even if
it was only sound from my camera mic, it would have provided the
sound bite that the producer wanted. Or we could have
waited a short distance off campus and tried to interview someone
after school.
But we did what we did, which was to honor the principal's request
that we not speak to any of the students. I felt his reasons
were valid.
Now all of this raised another question for us. High school
kids will say and do just about anything to get on TV. Why
would we want their “opinion” about an event that most
of them would have no first hand knowledge about? They might
have read about it in the papers, they certainly heard rumors about
in school but no one most likely would have any personal knowledge
about the incident. Just opinions.
This presents us in the media with an even greater ethical question. Why
do we (especially television) depend so much on opinions garnered
from the man on the street? We mold these sound bites into
little digestible nuggets and present them to our audience in a factual
manner. Why do we continue to pander to the lowest common denominator?
The intern and I ruminate over all this on our way back. But
I’m just a camera monkey and all this intellectual stuff is
better left to the egg head types. About then the cell
phone rings. It’s the producer calling from San Francisco. He
still thinks he needs sound from some students, can we turn around? I
try to keep calm. “No we’re already on the freeway,” I
say. Besides, I silently think to myself, school’s already
out for the day. “Well maybe we could go back on Monday,” replies
the producer. This statement pushes my button. My attempt
to maintain a calm demeanor suddenly evaporates and the tone of my
voice rises. “Look, I promised the principal that we
wouldn’t interview any kids from the school. If you want
to go back on Monday fine, but don’t assign it to me,” I
blurt into the phone. “If the principal finds out about
this what does it say about our credibility?” I ask. There’s
a brief pause as the producer thinks it over. “Well,
maybe we could find a computer class at another school and have a
round-table discussion. I know a teacher who might be able
to help us,” he says. “Hey that’s a great
idea,” I reply. Crisis averted, I hang up the cell phone. The
intern sitting next to me quietly thanks me for defending our position. “You’ll
have a lot to discuss in class next week,” I tell her.
The things they don’t teach you about in college.
©
Mark Neuling 2003
The opinions expressed are solely those of the author.
Email info: markneuling@techtvcorp.com
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