Last week I learned a difficult lesson. Actually in the past few weeks I’ve learned many lessons, most of them somewhat painful and embarrassing. The most prominent however, is one that involved others’ lives, reputations and relationships.
I ran an editorial chastising the president for reprimanding a student who disagreed with the logo change. I ran this editorial believing the source I used was accurate and in good faith. My source, though I believe was acting in good faith, was unfortunately inaccurate according to Natasha Kulsha(the allegedly reprimanded) and President Pattenaude.
I struggled with the decision to run this editorial because, though I believed my source a valid one, I was unable to contact Kulsha to verify she had indeed been called into the President’s office and told she ought to be more supportive. Feeling this issue needed to be addressed, I ran with it and hoped the end result would be in my favor. I made an irresponsible decision and was immediately put in my place.
The Monday the paper came out I received an irate email from Kulsha, who claimed my editorial was pure fiction. My heart rate accelerated and I felt my chest constrict. I sat frozen before my computer and my mind hurried through potential courses of action.
Of course I would have to address the issue by contacting Kulsha and not only explain my actions but find out her story. And there was no avoiding it, I would have to call the president.
From what I’ve was able to gather from Natasha, she felt that the source grossly misconstrued the situation. She explained that she had gone to the president burdened with guilt for the comments she made. In reassurance the president supported her by responding that the University is a safe place to express her opinions.
O.k.- so now the next step: explain my actions and apologize to the president. I found myself for the umpteenth time since I began at this post with a tightened tummy and a tingling mass of nerves. This was only my third week…
Unable to reach the president by phone that day I made an informal appointment to speak with him later. The next day my opportunity surfaced. My news editor was bogged down and wishing that he had one less task to complete so I volunteered to coach a new writer covering the student senate meeting. The president was scheduled to speak.
Arriving several minutes late, I snuck in quietly and grabbed a chair by the door. The president was seated just ahead of me, facing away. I hunched in my chair, a feeble attempt to make myself as small as possible. My plan was to snag the president on his way out and plead my case. The senate was conducting standard business and I wondered how long I would sit in discomfort awaiting his departure.
Finally the senate invited President Pattenaude to speak. My pulse quickened at the mention of his name. Polite clapping filled the room and I hoped he wouldn’t see me as he rose. With the door propped open beside me, and evening sounds filling my ears, many of his words were lost to the night. Suddenly I heard the words “The Free Press” and “editorial.” I leaned forward, straining to hear. Though my name was not mentioned, I and many others in the room knew it was me he spoke about I squirmed in my chair as several sets of eyes shifted in my direction and the president recounted my blunder.
I met eyes with no one, wishing I had been able to contact the president prior to the meeting. Fortunately his words weren’t harsh ones and he even praised The Free Press and stated that he appreciated the work we do. When he finished up with questions and rose to leave I followed, calling after him. Smiling at me, he waited while I explained myself. With a fatherly approach he consoled my obvious anxiety and we chatted pleasantly for a few minutes.
He explained that several conversations transpired between he and Natasha concerning the logo. He theorized that maybe an eavesdropper overheard he and Kulsha discussing the logo changes and misinterpreted his gentle ribbing for reprimanding about her strong opinions. Whatever the situation, I made a mistake.
I was wrong. I can admit that. I wrote an article based on second-hand information, information that I believed was the truth. The outcome of this is that I certainly won’t make the same mistake twice.
Christy McKinnon can be contacted at [email protected]