Editor in Chief

It's a terrifying time in the world of journalism.

We knew what we were getting into when we started at the Collegian years ago; journalism is a field filled with bad hours and worse pay. But in our idealistic "do it for the story" heads, we knew it would be worth it.

Even as major cuts in the field's workforce take place, some as recent as two weeks ago, we here at the Collegian haven't been too stressed. We'll worry about that when it comes to the job search.

But we're doing just fine. It's a beautiful, blissful ignorance -- this windowless basement of the James Building. For now, we still all have a job (albeit not a paying one) and a newspaper to hold (or read online).

For those veteran readers in the audience, you might have noticed something new about us. The old "have you lost weight?" line actually garners a truthful answer. Yes, we have. But that doesn't mean we're happy.

In the summer, we have a much smaller population in town. Low circulation, small staff, little advertising, few stories, fewer news pages -- it's not the Collegian of semesters past.

We don't complain too much about the thin look; we wouldn't be able to do as good of a job covering a fall semester's worth of news in the summer with this size staff, anyway.

It's a painful reminder of the world in which we all reside. It's a world where some newspapers are scrapping their print editions while news Web sites are taking their places.

But for now, our idealism is winning. We're giving up deck chairs for desk chairs and campfires for the AP wire, all because we know it's what we should do. When we graduate, the hours will still be bad and the cost of living will outpace the already-low salaries.

And then, through byline and/or online, we'll be back to our idealistic selves.

For the story.

- Terry

Being a good reporter -- at the Collegian and elsewhere -- means being a good investigator and a good writer.

An honored novelist has nothing on a Collegian staff member if he or she can't find the story. A private eye wouldn't make it through our candidate class if he or she couldn't communicate well.

To do our jobs well, we have to do both the searching and the writing; Christopher Columbus as a poet, if you will.

But sometimes, unlike Columbus, America is brought to us. Such was the case when John O'Brien called the Collegian office a few days back.

In his message, he detailed his morning experience like no other. In the cleanest description possible: His toilet water and its, erm, "accompanying products" traveled the wrong way through the pipes -- fast.

We had a quick chuckle/gag at the thought, but knew we had a story students would want to know about. We also knew that we would have a very specific audience, allowing us to have, well, a bit more fun with the piece than the Centre Daily Times could.

So we did. And the result was exactly what we wanted.

Students all over campus were reading the story, showing their friends and spreading it across the Internet.

Who would have guessed that one of most popular stories this summer would have been total crap?

We've got some great investigators down here, and they do their jobs well. But this week has shown us some of the best stories can fall into your lap...

...after shooting into someone else's.

As journalists, we here at The Collegian are used to being the ones holding the notepads, recorders and cameras. Every day, reporters and photographers are chasing the stories around State College and, sometimes, beyond.

We've had to make some tough phone calls to families of the deceased, and we've had to push Penn State's administrators and the borough's police officers for answers. All in all, this job toughens us up quite a bit.

But if you ever want to see journalists become uncomfortable, simply turn the tables on them. Aim the camera. Ask the questions.

That's exactly what happened last week in our office, when students from a journalism camp visited to see what it is we do here.

For almost an hour, editors from all divisions of The Collegian sat at the front of a classroom while high school students drilled us with questions about our coverage as well as our lives:

-- Yes, this is a full-time job. Yes, we're still students. Yes, that can be very stressful.

-- How do we balance it all? Coffee. Black.

-- I can't begin to guess how many stories we've run about Joe Paterno.

It's not as though we mind these sessions (they happen at least once a semester), it's just that we're not used to being on the other end. Most journalists aren't. We have Collegian alumni return to the office now and then to impart wisdom on their followers, and they all say it's a similar feeling.

But we all get over it. We're the storytellers, after all.

Besides, there's another group coming in about 12 hours.

Some days, a story is on our front page because it's the biggest news -- a downtown fire or a visiting politician.

Other days, a story is on front because it's the latest about a newsmaker -- JoePa isn't feeling well or President Graham Spanier is going on vacation.

But then there are days when something happens that shouldn't be too big of a deal, but you want to read all about it. These are the stories that earn the front page because we know you'll care. And that's exactly what happened a few days ago.

The Princeton Review compiled a list of universities for its annual categorized ranking. As usual, Penn State made the list in several areas, most notably as a party school and a school of students dissatisfied with its financial aid.

Sure, the rank isn't scientific; it's decided by an unofficial poll on the Princeton Review's Web site. But that didn't stop students from taking the rankings -- at least under "party school " -- very seriously.

But, as you've read in our editorial, this ranking is not necessarily something to be proud of; it's simply one aspect of a complex university. With all the alcohol-fueled problems the campus has seen in the last few years, the ranking is really more of a scarlet letter than anything else.

Others, like placing No. 5 for job placement, are the rankings we should brag about.

But if you're really more interested in boasting about how hard Penn Staters party, the (unofficial) No. 9 college newspaper is happy to oblige.

Just don't forget to read our take.