My Life as a Journalist: Part 6 — Rants and Raves
I first met Mr. George during my first semester at The Battalion when I walked in late to a training class.
Mr. George transformed from one of the scariest men I'd ever met to a real inspiration in my life during the four years I knew him.
I had been told to go to the Batt offices to get trained on a Saturday morning but I did not know which classroom to go to or what time training would begin. When I finally found the right the classroom, I was nearly an hour late. Peering into the room through a window on the door, I tried to decide whether I should actually go inside for training or just walk back to my dorm room.
Mr. George did not give me a choice.
Spotting me through the widow, he stormed over to the door and yanked it open. Looking me up and down, he asked if I was there for the training.
I nodded; petrified of this imposing figure whose face was marked with a scowl.
Well, you’re too late, he said and slammed the door in my face.
I walked back to my dorm room in a daze unsure of what had just happened. In high school, I had heard about college professors being a bit unforgiving but this was insane. Who was that horrible, horrible man I had just encountered?
A few days later, I was finally given a name to put with the face of the man who had almost scared me away from the paper forever. The day after my first article was published, I received an e-mail from my editor. The subject line simply read “Batt Rant.”
For those who worked at The Battalion during Mr. George’s tenure as newspaper advisor, the words “Batt Rant” elicited a wide assortment of mixed feelings. There was the fear and apprehension that crawled down your spine just before opening the e-mail. There was the anger when you finally read the comments Mr. George made about your latest work and wanted to know just where he got off saying what he said. Then, of course, there was the striving that set in — the drive to create something that would warrant a compliment from this Anti-Giving Tree of a man.
In my first semester at The Battalion, I avoided Mr. George. Still afraid of his gruff nature, his masterful usage of sarcasm and the fact that he had spent the better part of the fall ripping my articles to shreds in his Batt Rant e-mails, I felt that the less time I spent around the man the more I would enjoy my time at the paper.
Then it happened.
Something I wrote elicited a kind word from Mr. George. He approved.
Like a little Dutch boy pulling his finger out of a hole in a dam, the article paved the way for me to build up the courage it would take to approach Mr. George.
And so, for the second time in my first year at Texas A&M, I found myself peering in on the paper’s advisor through a door window.
This time, instead of teaching a class I was late for, he was enjoying his dinner in his office. After hearing my diminutive knock on his door, he yelled for me to enter. I cautiously opened the door and peered into his darkened office.
I just wanted to introduce myself, I said.
I know who you are, he responded. Good work on the review. Keep it up.
That night I walked back to my dorm room rejuvenated. A week before I had considered quitting — almost scared away from the paper by the Batt Rant Boogie Man. Now that I had gotten good ink in a Batt Rant, though, the only thing I wanted was more.
To be continued…
There’s truth in seeing ourselves as others see us, and it ain’t always pretty. The thing about truth, though, is that it always sets you free, even when it hurts.
Something you must know about people who slam doors in your face — they’re usually insecure bullies who have no business in positions of authority. They’re probably as scared of something as you are of them, so they hide their frightened selves behind frightening bravado.
You have to admire the character of a Man Cub who can take the heat and rise above his own fear to succeed beyond even his own expectations.
And I do.