Reporting live from a back closet

This week was broadcast week. Or broadcast day. We were told to take one of our articles, make a broadcast script out of it, memorize it (sorta) and, yes, report the story *live* in front of the camera.



Not only that, but we all got to play a part in the 'look who's on TV!' game.

Behind ever good reporter is a stellar anchor. Someone who can fit the ear piece in their ear just right. Someone who can read the introductory lines with just enough pause and speed. Someone...who looks this professional on camera.



After doing your anchor spot we each had to go to a back closet to pretend we were reporting live from wherever our story was taking place. It is in preparation for this moment that we worked to make our story as clear and succinct as possible. We took out all of the big words and the alliteration, substituting them with conversation speech and phonetic spellings. At least, some of us did.

My story was littered with Blogojeviches and marathon words. It was not a pretty sights. Also, not something I was going to commit to memory. I chose, the always classy, winging-it option.

By the time I made it to the back broom/reporters closet I had sweated through my once professional looking shirt and my face shone like top of the Chrysler Building. Once the mic was hooked up and the little bit of throw up pushed back down my throat it was time to roll and there was no looking back. or down, at my notes, which we were actually allowed to bring in for safe keeping.

I started off OK. I was told to talk to the camera like my best friend. A lovely sentiment, but I couldn't buy it. The camera was cold and quite possibly giving me the stink eye.

I made it through two tiny paragraphs and my mind went completely blank. Discussing a local state representative's background I found myself grasping at the dust bunnies in my head to come up with the grocery list of issues he supported while in the state capital. I finally remembered to look down at my notes, which were backwards and, once I flipped them, upside down. Not helpful.

There was no time. After much ums and uhhs, I think my sentence went something like, "He did a great, great many things and even worked with Obama."

Now there's a girl who can think on her feet. CNN here I come!

Obama? Sure. Why not. Did he work with Obama? I think he mentioned his name during the interview. Can I even call him Obama? Better than Barack, which almost slipped out.

Ah, yes, and a 'great many things.' So spot on. No doubt my audience of three was hooked. I'm trying to get my hands on the video because it's such a wonderful mix of humiliation and hilarity. It's fun for the whole family and perhaps this season's best stocking stuffer.

Beyond the anchoring and reporting my classmates and I got to bop around the studio: working the cameras, managing the floor, controlling the audio. Without 16 amateurs, I just don't know how the studio can run normally.

I have to admit that it was a lot of fun. The question now is, do I drop print and switch to broadcast?

Um...no way Jose.

No. The real question is, what am I pointing at?





This is L, signing off.
Stay lemony fresh, America.