image from jscoopmedia.com / Alyssa Wells

I seem to have been born without that part of the brain that’s supposed to tell me when not to speak up (also known as common sense). This is probably why I found my way to broadcast journalism.

I have discovered that this is actually a good quality for an intern to have. Some of my biggest goals as an intern at a major Chicago news station (we’ll call it XYZ so I don’t get canned) is to get noticed and be memorable. There are three times in the future when this will be particularly important:

     1. When I ask them for a letter of recommendation for future job applications.
     2. When I include them as a reference in future job applications.
     3. When I apply for a job there someday, which I intend to do.

The last thing I want if and when any of these things occur is for them to say, “We had an intern named Jenna?”

Fail.

So, I speak up in the hallowed Morning Meetings almost every day. Keep in mind this is something none of the other interns do. Even interns who have been there longer than I have don’t make a sound. Big mistake. By speaking up, I show that I am not only following the conversation, but I am also capable of constructively contributing to it. Catch the alliteration there? Good.

On that note, if you are going to speak up, make sure your ideas are actually original. XYZ’s current obsession is that we are a “station in transition.” This means they replaced all of the management and everyone is encouraged to try to break the mold and do something the other stations aren’t doing. Or risk getting fired. No pressure. So, every time I pitch a story or propose a new angle, I frame it as something other stations won’t be doing.

For example, a few weeks ago we were talking about a recent scandal at the University of Illinois, where over 600 under-qualified students received preferential treatment in admissions because of political clout. It came to light recently that an unreasonable amount of students who were ushered into U. of I. were from a single private high school in Highland Park. I proposed we get some sound bites from students from that school. Everyone had been talking to administrators and school board officials, but no one had actually been talking to the students. Isn’t this story really about them?

This was one of my most successful suggestions thus far. I use the word “successful” here loosely. It was “successful” in the sense that it was met with several people agreeing it was a good idea, not in the sense that someone ran out with a camera and actually did it. But that’s not what matters as an intern. My priority is to be acknowledged as someone who has good ideas.

My attempts at speaking up are not always welcomed so positively. Earlier in the week, I asked, “Can I pitch a story?” during a lull in the meeting. This was met with silence and blank stares. Just the reaction everyone wants when they’re putting themselves out there. It makes a person feel good inside.

After pausing briefly, I realized I was not going to get any sort of verbal go-ahead out of these people. I decided the best course of action was to continue confidently with my proposal, which had something to do with violence against pizza delivery guys (I know, I’m brilliant). I finished the pitch by framing it as an all-important “story the other stations won’t have.” It was followed by some more silence and a few seconds of awkward mumbling before the meeting moved on. If blushing with embarrassment was part of my evaluation as an intern, I would pass with flying colors. Oh, my puns are as clever as my story pitches.

But I don’t regret pitching the story. Making an effort and being heard is what’s important. I think being unafraid to speak up in such an intimidating environment sets me apart from the other interns. That’s what matters in the long run. Besides, everyone’s probably forgotten my pizza-guy-gets-shot-in-the-face-and-why-we-should-care story. But they sure as hell noticed I was at that meeting.

As for the silent interns? One girl who’s been working there a month longer than I have passed me a note during one meeting saying one of our reporters (who has a bit of an ego and—let’s face it—truly awful hair) had just introduced himself to her for the third time. Let’s just say he’s only introduced himself to me once and, since then, has given me many cheesy smiles of recognition. I have decided to consider this a success.

Again, I use the word “success” here loosely.   (Editor: Alyssa Wells)