The semicolon is an enemy of journalists everywhere.
At least that’s what one of my journalism professors told me in my undergrad days.
“Just use a period,” she said. “Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be.”
My students received the same advice from me – every semicolon received a red slash, with “just use a period” written next to it.
Scholastic journalism isn’t about semicolons, punctuation, mechanics or the various writing styles, though. At least it wasn’t to me. Teaching writing styles was secondary to teaching the Constitution in context. There was a figurative semicolon there, though, in the Law & Ethics unit at the beginning of every school year.
Teaching Tinker v. Des Moines was exhilarating, with students basking in the newfound knowledge that they don’t lose their First Amendment rights at the schoolhouse gate – as long as they don’t cause material disruption, which is exceedingly rare. Then came the metaphorical semicolon: Hazelwood v. Kuhlmeier. It went something like this: “you don’t lose your First Amendment rights at the schoolhouse gate; however, if you enter this bigger gray area, the boundaries of which are written by my boss and will likely be communicated after the fact, you will not be protected by the First Amendment.”
While Tinker did not offer limitless protections, they are certainly preferable to the unknowable, uncomfortable gray area we had to navigate for the next eight months.
Fortunately, there are ways to address the semicolon in the room: New Voices campaigns exist in a growing number of states, the SPLC has innumerable resources – and now there’s us.
After my 15-year teaching career came to an end, I couldn’t shake the discomfort of that gray area. It felt like I was still there. That feeling led me to a master’s in public administration, which can loosely be described as “public policy supported by math.” It was truly a departure from the wordsmithing of my teaching days, but it helped me understand the semicolons of education policy – “this exists; you are accountable for what happens next.”
The same principles apply to 501(c)(3) nonprofits like the Cathy Kuhlmeier Foundation. We know that gray area all too well – but we also know there’s something we can do. It starts with our mission and vision statements: we hope to educate, then affect policy change.
Let’s start here with this blog. Contributors will include our Board Members – some of the nation’s foremost experts in scholastic journalism and Constitutional law. Occasionally, you will be gifted with posts about my Excel spreadsheets and policy analysis tools. Our goal is to provide useful takeaways for all stakeholders.
If you’re a student journalist or adviser, we will do even more. Email us at admin@cathykuhlmeierfoundation.org for any reason, including booking Cathy as a speaker, requesting a support letter for your staff or administration or school board, offering a partnership, etc. Anything we can do to support you, the answer will always be “yes.”
While you’re at it, bookmark this page and follow our social media:
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If you’re able, please consider donating to our Foundation to help us with our overhead costs. All donations are tax-deductible. On behalf of all of us at the Cathy Kuhlmeier Foundation, I want to reiterate our commitment to enacting our mission and vision. We know that student journalists are future policymakers, voters and educators, and that their voices deserve elevation without threat of recourse. We don’t see Hazelwood v. Kuhlmeier as the end of the sentence when it comes to scholastic press freedom.
Cathy Kuhlmeier Foundation 